Chapter 17
Pain seared through Theo's arm as he apparated to the first place he could think of—Nott Manor library. Adrian’s body landed with a heavy thump on the thick rug, while Alina fell backward from the rough landing, a strangled gasp escaping her lips.
Theo rolled onto the cold marble floor, clutching his arm. The sharp, biting ache of being splinched tore through him, compounded by the strain of apparating three people while already injured. A string of expletives spilled from his lips as he tried to draw in shaky breaths, his vision swimming.
Forcing himself upright, Theo reached for his wand with trembling fingers, his grip slick with blood. He crawled toward Adrian’s still form, muttering a diagnostic spell that revealed only the lingering effects of a stunning spell. Relief surged through him, cutting through the haze of pain. Summoning the last of his magic, he cast a Rennervate, watching as Adrian stirred back to life with a groggy groan.
Theo’s body felt as though it might give out, but sheer will drove him to his feet. He turned to Alina, who was sitting upright now, the muggle gun still clutched in her trembling hands. Without hesitation, Theo moved toward her, his movements swift and deliberate.
With a firm grip, he wrenched the weapon from her grasp, his expression dark. He spun the gun deftly in his hand, the motions fluid and practiced, as though he’d done this a hundred times before. The sharp click of the safety disengaging was followed by the smooth pull of the slide. A round ejected from the chamber, spinning through the air before landing with a metallic clink on the floor.
His hands worked with mechanical precision, ejecting the magazine and letting the bullets spill into his palm. Within seconds, the gun was harmless, reduced to an empty, inert piece of metal.
“Where the fuck did you get this?” Theo’s voice was sharp, angry, and unwavering.
Alina flinched at his outburst, her wide eyes flickering between his face and the now-empty weapon in his hands. Her voice was small when she finally spoke. “Emily’s boyfriend is a cop… he has them hidden all over their apartment.”
“Did you shoot Nott?” Adrian croaked from his spot on the floor, his voice unsteady but laced with disbelief.
“I…” Alina glanced at Theo, who had slumped into the nearest chair, his face frighteningly pale. Blood continued to seep from his injured arm, soaking through his shirt. “I didn’t mean to—it ricocheted. Theo, are you—are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” Theo snapped, his voice tight as he pressed his unhurt hand to his brow. His breaths were rapid and shallow. “Pucey, can you conjure a patronus?"
Arian paused, “no.”
"Son of a… They may as well rename Slytherin house to Those Too Traumatized to Think Happy Thoughts." He sighed. "Get Potter. Bring him here. Now.”
Adrian hesitated, his gaze shifting uneasily between Theo and Alina. But before he could move, a loud crack echoed through the library.
Narcissa Malfoy appeared in the room, her posture regal despite the urgency of her arrival. Beside her stood a diminutive house-elf clutching her hand.
“For fuck’s sake,” Theo groaned, his head lolling back against the chair. “Tipsy, what are you doing here?” His voice was heavy with exhaustion, irritation flickering in his eyes. “This is turning into a circus, and I don’t have the consciousness left to deal with it.”
“Tipsy sensed young master’s distress and brought help,” the elf said in a high-pitched voice, her large, luminous eyes darting nervously between Theo and Narcissa.
Narcissa wasted no time, crossing the room swiftly and kneeling beside Theo. Her elegant features twisted into a mask of concern as she examined his arm. “Theodore,” she chided, her tone sharp but not unkind, “what in Merlin’s name have you managed to get yourself into? I saw you only hours ago.”
She muttered a string of healing spells, her wand moving deftly over the torn flesh. Tipsy had already vanished with another loud crack, and Narcissa barely glanced up as Adrian staggered to his feet and moved toward the floo.
“I’ll be back,” Adrian said, his tone clipped as he disappeared into the green flames.
Narcissa’s voice softened, though her hands remained steady. “This is going to hurt,” she warned, giving Theo only a second to prepare before she cast a sharp summoning charm.
Theo let out a strangled scream as a small, bloodied shard of metal flew from his arm, clattering onto the table nearby. He doubled over, clutching at the chair’s armrests as the pain seared through him.
Narcissa inspected the object with a frown, holding it between her delicate fingers. “What in Merlin’s name… were you shot?”
“Yes,” Theo ground out, glaring at Alina, who remained frozen in place. “And then splinched. Lucky me.”
Narcissa’s attention shifted to Alina for the first time, her gaze sweeping over the young woman with a sharpness that made Alina flinch. For a fleeting moment, Narcissa’s expression betrayed something close to shock as her eyes lingered on Alina’s features. But just as quickly, she schooled her face back into its usual calm, composed mask.
Tipsy reappeared with a small tray holding dittany and blood-replenishing potions. Narcissa worked quickly, her touch efficient as she sealed Theo’s wound.
“You’re lucky I was nearby,” she said, though there was no malice in her tone. “Next time, perhaps try to avoid bleeding out on your library floor.”
Theo grunted in response, too tired to muster a retort. His eyes flickered toward Alina, who was still sitting on the floor, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
Harry Potter stepped through the floo, urgency propelling him forward. His robes were slightly askew, and soot clung to his hair, but his sharp green eyes took in the room in an instant. He stumbled momentarily as he stepped onto the polished floor, his gaze landing on Narcissa Malfoy.
“Uh, Mrs. Malfoy,” he greeted with an awkward nod.
“Please, call me Narcissa,” she replied, her tone regal but polite, a faint smile gracing her lips.
“Potter!” Theo interjected from his chair, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Take this walking Cruciatus from me before she murders me!” He gestured toward Alina, who flinched slightly at his outburst.
Harry’s brow furrowed, but he shook his head and refocused. “Right, Narcissa,” he said, his voice measured. “I don’t mean to be rude, but would you mind if I had a confidential moment with Theo and Alina?”
“Ali,” a small voice corrected from the floor. Alina’s tone was soft, but there was a thread of quiet defiance in it.
Narcissa rose gracefully from her crouched position beside Theo. “One moment, Mr. Potter,” she said smoothly, her attention turning back to Theo. “Is Draco involved in this?”
Theo hesitated, his expression tightening. “He wasn’t with us when we were…” He trailed off, clearly recalling the confidentiality of the situation. “Well, he wasn’t there when it happened. Actually, I have no bloody clue where the prat is. That’s next on the agenda.”
“You boys will be the death of me,” Narcissa sighed, exasperation flickering across her otherwise composed features. She began to walk away but paused in front of Alina, who was still sitting on the floor. Extending her hand, Narcissa said, “Ali, I’m Narcissa Malfoy. I’d love to reacquaint myself once this… situation is resolved.”
Alina hesitated before taking her hand, her movements guarded. “Um… okay,” she murmured uncertainly as she rose to her feet.
Narcissa gave her a faint nod before making her way to Tipsy, the house-elf, who was waiting patiently nearby. Taking the elf’s hand, Narcissa glanced back at Theo one last time.
“And Theo,” she added with a touch of wryness, “I know I raised you better. Mind your tongue when speaking to a lady.”
With a sharp crack, Narcissa and Tipsy disappeared, leaving the room momentarily silent.
Theo stared at the empty space where they had stood, then threw his hands up in disbelief. “Unbelievable. Chiding me over my manners when I’m literally on my deathbed.” He shook his head. “And it was her fault!” He jabbed a finger toward Alina.
Alina crossed her arms, her posture stiffening. “Hey, it was not entirely my fault. And it was an accident,” she shot back, her tone defensive.
Harry raised a hand, cutting through their argument with an edge of authority. “Alright, what the hell happened?”
Theo’s eyes narrowed as he glanced toward Harry. “Where’s Pucey?” he asked, suddenly noticing Harry had come alone.
“I sent him to St. Mungo’s to get checked over,” Harry replied, his tone clipped.
“What a wuss,” Theo scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “It was just a stunning spell.”
“Focus, Nott,” Harry snapped, his patience thinning.
Theo let out a huff but launched into an explanation of the events, his voice dripping with irritation as he recounted the chaotic escape, the gun, the ricochet, and the splinching. By the time he finished, Harry’s expression had darkened considerably, his jaw tight with unease.
“And where the fuck is Malfoy?” Theo added, his frustration boiling over.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose before answering. “He and Hermione went out early this morning looking for her.” He gestured toward Alina.
“Well,” Theo muttered, pushing himself upright with a groan, “they’re obviously the world’s worst Where’s Waldo competitors.” He paused, casting a sharp glance at Harry. “Delivered as asked. She’s your responsibility now. I’m going to find the wonder twins.”
Without waiting for a response, Theo stalked toward the floo. He grabbed a handful of powder, his posture rigid with suppressed anger. “Zabini Estate,” he called out, his voice echoing in the library as green flames engulfed him.
****
Theo marched down the alley in irritation toward the motel Blaise had told him about. Its peeling paint and flickering neon sign a testament to its disregard for appearances. Theo scowled as he surveyed the place locating room #7. “Of course she would pick a dive like this,” Theo muttered under his breath.
When he reached the room, Theo hesitated briefly. The door was ajar, just enough to allow a sliver of light to spill into the hallway. Unease prickled at the back of his neck. His wand was in his hand before he even realized it, instincts honed from years of living in the shadow of danger kicking in. He nudged the door open with the tip of his wand, his eyes quickly sweeping the room.
The scene inside was a disaster. The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled and partially hanging off the mattress. A chair had been overturned, and shards of glass glinted on the threadbare carpet where a lamp had clearly been smashed. The faint scent of ozone lingered in the air, a telltale sign of magic.
Theo’s gaze landed on the corner of the room, where two wands lay abandoned on the floor. His heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned. One of them, pale and elegant, was unmistakably Draco’s. The other—slimmer, darker, and worn with age—belonged to Granger.
“Bloody hell,” Theo muttered, his irritation evaporating as cold dread took its place. He crouched to inspect the wands, his fingers hovering over them as he tried to piece together what had happened.
Standing again, he surveyed the room more carefully, his sharp eyes picking out details he’d initially missed.
“Dammit, Malfoy,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair. Neither of them would have left their wands behind unless forced…. or worse. Theo tried to shake the haunting thought from his head.
****
Draco was jolted awake as something struck him square in the eye.
“Ow, what the fu—” he hissed, sitting up abruptly. A small pebble lay on the ground beside him.
“Shhh!” Hermione’s urgent whisper carried over from her cell. “I’m trying to hear what they’re arguing about!”
Still groggy, Draco blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the disorientation from being woken so suddenly. His hand instinctively moved to rub his sore eye. Across the room, Hermione was pressed close to the bars, her head tilted as she strained to catch the muffled voices beyond the door.
Draco’s attention sharpened as he heard the faint creak of the handle turning. But before the door opened, a soft, silver glow radiated from the other side, and whoever had been reaching for the knob seemed to hesitate, pulling their hand back.
“…Too many involved,” a distorted voice murmured, barely audible through the thick door.
Draco’s brows furrowed as he leaned closer, straining to catch more of the conversation.
“Was that a Patronus?” Hermione whispered, her voice low but steady.
“I think so,” Draco replied, his voice equally hushed. “All I caught was ‘too many involved.’” He craned his neck, trying to hear anything further, but the voices had faded into an unsettling silence.
Hermione stayed perfectly still for another moment before whispering, “I think they’re gone.”
Draco nodded absently, his mind already turning over the cryptic phrase. Too many involved. It sounded like a warning—or worse, an admission.
“I don’t think I like the ominous nature of that message,” Hermione said softly, her tone edged with unease.
Draco didn’t answer immediately. He was too busy trying to piece it together, the words lingering like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. Whatever that Patronus had been meant to convey, it wasn’t good news for them.