Chapter 1
Draco shook the rain from his waxed jacket and stepped into the small cafe. The open sign in the window flickered in the window, casting neon streaks out into the heavy downpour.
A portly woman with a permanent scowl was wiping down the long counter with a greyed cloth. Draco eyed a man in the corner and a man at the far side of the counter with a flat cap. They looked muggle enough.
He slid into one of the bar stools and placed his hands on the counter.
The woman rubbed at the same spot and looked him up and down.
“Evening,” he said.
She nodded and waddled towards him. “Watch’ ah getcha?” She asked.
“Just a cuppa,” he answered and placed some bills on the counter from the folds of his black dragon leather wallet.
“How ya take it?” She asked as she poured from the pot.
“Milk and honey,” He answered as he put away his wallet. The man with the flat cap peer over.
“Don’t got it.” She pushed the cup over to him.
“Milk and honey?” He asked, puzzled.
She waddled to a small fridge under the counter and leaned down. “Honey,” she answered as she stood up with some milk in hand.
The thunder rolled dramatically. Draco glanced outside and saw the street lights flicker, or maybe it was lightening, it was hard to tell in this weather. He was reaching for the small white pitcher when he felt his wand vibrate in the pocket of his jacket.
The man in the flat cap stared at his frozen hand.
Draco noticed and quickly drew the milk back but didn’t pour it. He reached into his jack and grasped his wand just enough for a faint voice to ring out in his ears alone. “All call. 6-23 in South Dover. All available agents please respond. 24 Waterloo Crescent.”
Draco was out of his seat before the message had finished and out the door just after. He braced his jacket and marched the few blocks over. He saw the lights of the muggle police first, which was never a good sign in a situation like this. He slowed his strides as he approached the area marked off with caution tape on the shore.
An ambulance was backed up to the curb and a gurney was being wheeled down to the edge of the walkway.
Draco peered into the storm, looking for another agent from the Ministry when he felt a firm grasp on his shoulder and turned to see Romilda Vane. “What are you doing here? I thought you were taking that smuggling case in Wales?” he asked in surprise, leaning in close to her and the black umbrella she stood under.
Romilda’s expression was stern and concerned. She didn’t meet Draco’s gaze but stared out at the scene before them. “I was. I am. It brought me here.” She watched as a team of medics carried a litter through the rain and placed it on the gurney.
“Here?” Draco tried asking, but Romilda had reached out and gripped his arm tightly.
“It isn’t a body bag.” She started walking forward.
Confused, Draco followed her even as she ducked under the caution tape.
A constable stepped out from one of the van and held up a hand. “Officials only, please,” he shouted through the heavy rain.
Romilda was already holding up the badge that identified her as part of MI5, which was a bit of a stretch in the strict sense but the ministry and MI5 had an agreement on the use of the badge.
The constable nodded and let her forward. Draco made to follow, but the constable motioned to stop him. Irritated, Draco dug into his coat and pulled out his own badge. The constable was appeased and allowed him to pass.
Romilda had stopped just a few feet from the gurney. As Draco approached, he saw that a medic had climbed on top and was performing vigorous CPR. Lights from the open doors of the ambulance cast an erie glow. Draco shielded his eyes and stepped forward, afraid to get in the way. All he could see was bushy brown curls at first. Then his eyes adjusted, and he realized he was looking at none other than Hermione Jean Granger, and she was blue.