Preparation
The restaurant was opulent, even by wizarding standards. Le Meurice’s grand dining room glittered under an intricate chandelier, its soft golden light illuminating mirrored walls and elegant table settings. The soft clinking of cutlery against fine china echoed through the air, underscored by the low murmur of conversation. The trio were seated at a corner table, the chandelier’s light glinting off the crystal glasses. Hermione had to admit Theo’s choice of venue was impressive. The gilded décor, with its mirrored walls and lush drapes, was a far cry from the simple meals at Grimmauld Place. She couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place and regretted not taking the time to pack more appropriate clothing
There’s no way I could have ever imagined ending up in a place like this, she thought, shaking her head minutely. She was dressed in a modest black dress she’d transfigured from one of the robes she’d thankfully had tucked into her enchanted pouch. There wasn’t much that could be done with the limited fabric, but it would have to do. Despite her efforts, the simplicity of her attire stood out against the extravagant Muggle evening wear of the other patrons.
Theo, however, seemed entirely at ease, lounging in his chair with the confidence of someone who belonged. Draco sat across from him, posture stiff but composed. Hermione had no idea how they’d managed to find such outfits on such short notice. Neither had brought anything with them, yet they’d both emerged from the bathrooms before leaving for the restaurant, clad in sharp, tailored Muggle suits, complete with cufflinks. Leave it to the aristocrats to always be prepared, she thought, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.
The silence stretched a little too long, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, fiddling with the corner of her napkin. She was preparing to speak when Theo’s voice rang out, saving her from the awkward pause.
“Well,” he began, his voice lilting with humor, “we’ve successfully survived our first day of briefing without anyone getting hexed. I’d say that’s worth celebrating, wouldn’t you?”
Hermione let out a soft chuckle, only then realising how tense her shoulders had been. She relaxed slightly as Draco gave Theo a pointed look over the rim of his wine glass. “Low bar, Nott.”
Hermione suppressed a smile, glancing at Theo, whose easy grin remained intact. “You’re surprisingly upbeat, considering the stakes,” she remarked, genuinely curious. “Doesn’t the idea of alien magic unnerve you?”
Theo leaned back in his chair, gesturing expansively. “Unnerve? Hardly. Excite? Absolutely. Come on, this is history in the making. We’re talking about something that could flip everything we know about magic—and ourselves—on its head.”
“And yet,” Draco interjected smoothly, “you’re treating it like a holiday.”
“Don’t mistake my optimism for complacency, Draco.” Theo countered, his tone taking on a rare seriousness. “I understand the risks. But what’s the point of being here if we can’t find some joy in the experience?”
Hermione tilted her head, intrigued by his perspective. She turned her attention to Draco. “And you? What made you agree to this mission?”
Draco’s expression darkened slightly, but he didn’t shy away from her question. “I didn’t ‘agree’ so much as I was recruited. Apparently, my expertise in potions and alchemical analysis is…invaluable.”
Theo snorted. “Modest as always.”
Ignoring him, Draco continued, his grey eyes fixed on Hermione. “But I suppose, if you’re asking why I accepted…it’s because this is something different. Something beyond the shadow of my family’s reputation. A chance to make my own mark.”
Hermione nodded slowly, recognizing the vulnerability beneath his words. The man sitting before her was a far cry from the boy she knew in school and it left her terribly confused. She knew he had changed of course; refusing to identify Harry, Ron, and herself when captured by the snatchers, tossing Harry his wand to defeat Voldement in the final battle. She thought back to the last time she’d seen him, immediately after the war. He had looked so utterly defeated, his arrogance stripped away, leaving only the hollow shell of a boy caught in the aftermath of choices not entirely his own.
Yet the man before her now was vastly different. Agreeing to work alongside Muggles, speaking candidly about his motivations—it wasn’t what she would have expected. Who are you, Draco Malfoy? she wondered, though she refrained from voicing the thought aloud. This wasn’t the Malfoy she knew at all.
For a moment, a flicker of unspoken understanding passed between them, but it was quickly broken by Theo’s boisterous laugh.
“Look at us, getting all introspective over dinner,” he said, raising his glass. “To new adventures and unlikely partnerships.”
Hermione hesitated before lifting her own glass. “To understanding the unknown,” she said softly.
Draco raised his glass last, his movements precise and deliberate. “To not dying in the process,” he said dryly, his earlier mask of indifference slipping back into place.
Theo grinned as they lightly clinked their glasses together lightly. “Ah, but we’re all experts at survival, aren’t we? We’ll come through just fine. Tell me, Granger, did you learn to appreciate fine wine while researching the effects of dark magic on human cells, or was that before you single-handedly revolutionised magibiology?”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Actually, it came after I realized that my research partner in France couldn’t discuss cellular structures without a glass of Chardonnay in hand.”
Draco smirked faintly, setting down his menu. “Sounds like a man with his priorities in order.”
“He was,” Hermione admitted, her tone softening. “He taught me that science isn’t just about answers—it’s about asking the right questions.”
Theo tilted his head, intrigued. “What’s the big question then, Granger? I mean, alien magic—it’s a bit of a leap, even for you. It’s not like you to chase something you can’t cram into a textbook or footnote. Aren’t you all about ‘books and cleverness’?”
She gave a small smile as she hesitated, glancing between the two men. “I’ve actually been looking into the potentiality of magic originating outside of our planet for quite sometime, it’s why I’m familiar with Master Quince.” She paused, her expression thoughtful. “At the core of it, I suppose I’m asking what it means to be magical. If this ship’s energy is connected to magic, it could rewrite everything we think we understand about ourselves.”
Theo leaned back, his expression thoughtful a moment before a roguish grin spread across his face. “Heavy stuff, Granger. But let’s get to the real questions. Like, do aliens have Quidditch? And if they do, are we about to get schooled by some seven-foot-tall space chaser with extra arms?”
Draco groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, Nott, can you go five minutes without mentioning Quidditch?”
“Alright then,” Theo said with a wicked grin, leaning forward conspiratorially. “How shaggable do you reckon these aliens are? Might be time to expand my horizons, don’t you think—OW!” He cut off sharply, glaring to his left as a faint thump echoed beneath the table. “Merlin’s bloody beard, Granger, was that your foot?”
Hermione took a measured sip of her wine, her lips twitching in amusement. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Theo spluttered, throwing his hands up dramatically as he looked between the other two. “I’m just saying, aren’t you even the slightest bit curious?”
Ignoring her exasperated look, he shifted his attention to Draco. “Alright, Malfoy, what about you? What’s the big question keeping you up at night—other than how you’ll survive a whole week without your house-elves?”
Draco shot Theo a withering look but answered nonetheless, his tone measured. “I’m asking what kind of force could sustain a shield that powerful. Magic weakens when exposed to cosmic radiation or a vacuum—it shouldn’t even be active, let alone this strong.”
Hermione nodded, impressed despite herself. “That’s a good point. Magic relies on certain environmental conditions. Since those conditions don’t exist in space, the ship must have adapted somehow.”
Theo tapped his chin thoughtfully. “So, we’re talking about adaptive magic? Living magic?”
“Possibly,” Hermione said, her mind racing through the implications. “If that’s true, it could explain why the ship returned—it might be seeking compatible magical energy.”
“Or,” Draco cut in sharply, his grey eyes narrowing, “it’s looking for something it lost. Either way, it’s no coincidence it’s here—and now.”
The table fell silent as the weight of his words sank in. For all their banter, the reality of their mission loomed large, a constant undercurrent of tension.
“Well,” Theo said finally, raising his glass. “Here’s to not getting obliterated by alien magic.”
Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance before lifting their glasses. The second clink of crystal marked the end of their conversation, but the questions lingered, unspoken, as they finished their meal.
________________________________
The training facility was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the restaurant. Located deep within the ESA complex, it was a sprawling, high-tech space filled with holographic displays, simulation rigs, and an array of unfamiliar machinery. The air smelled faintly metallic, like ozone after a spell gone awry, and the low hum of equipment provided an almost meditative background noise. Hermione felt a thrill of excitement as she stepped inside the following morning, the sheer scale of the operation reminding her of the first time she’d walked into Hogwarts. The overwhelming sense of possibility was almost intoxicating.
Theo let out a low whistle, spinning slowly as he took in the holograms and towering machinery. “Merlin’s beard, Granger, it’s like stepping into a sci-fi film. Are we sure these Muggles aren’t hiding wands up their sleeves? This lot could probably give Starfleet a run for its money.”
Hermione turned to him, half amused, eyebrow raised. “I assume you mean from Star Trek? You lot are just full of surprises aren’t you.” She looked pointedly at Draco, who arched a brow, clearly unimpressed.
“Don’t start,” Draco drawled, his tone clipped. “Unlike you two, I haven’t wasted time watching Muggle television.”
Theo clutched his chest dramatically. “Malfoy, that’s cultural ignorance. Criminal, really. We’ll have to fix that.”
Dr. Katherine Harrow, their instructor for the day, interrupted any further banter by striding into the room. She was a sharp-eyed woman with an air of no-nonsense authority, her posture stiff and her voice brisk. She wasted no time diving into the basics of spacecraft design, gesturing to a rotating hologram of their assigned ship following her brief introduction.
“This is the Arcanis,” she began, “It’s been retrofitted to accommodate your projected needs. You’ll need to familiarize yourselves with its layout, systems, and protocols.”
Hermione listened intently, scribbling notes in a small notebook, as Dr. Harrow continued explaining its layout and systems in rapid detail. The hologram shifted, revealing the ship’s intricate structure. Theo leaned forward, his usual levity briefly replaced by curiosity. Draco stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes fixed on the display.
“What happens if the thermal shielding fails during reentry?” Theo asked, his tone casually light, but his brows furrowed.
Dr. Harrow raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze locking onto him. “If that happens, you’re likely incinerated. Flash-fried in the atmosphere. Which is why you’d be wise to avoid such scenarios.”
Theo winced, leaning back slightly. “Cheery. I can see why you’re so popular.”
Dr. Harrow ignored the quip, moving on. Hermione found herself attempting to translate technical terms for the two wizards quietly. “Think of the thrusters as a propulsion charm,” she murmured to Draco, who looked less than impressed.. “Except they rely on controlled chemical reactions instead of magic.”
Draco’s mouth twitched as though he couldn’t decide whether to smirk or grimace. “I can’t decide if that’s ingenious or primitive.”
“It’s both,” she replied, smiling slightly. “Muggles make do with what they have.”
By midday, they were introduced to the virtual reality rig, a towering contraption that looked part broom simulator and part magical duelling platform. It was designed to simulate zero gravity while they completed necessary tasks. Hermione adjusted her harness as the rig powered up, a faint hum filling the air.
The simulation began, and Hermione immediately felt the disorienting tug of weightlessness. Her movements were awkward and uncoordinated, and every attempt to propel herself forward seemed to send her floating in the wrong direction. She grabbed for a railing, only to drift past it, muttering under her breath. Theo, however, took to it with surprising ease, spinning through the simulated corridors with an almost childlike glee.
“This is amazing!” he exclaimed, and she looked up to see him flipping upside-down with ease. He pushed himself through the simulated corridor with a large grin spread across his face. “I could do this all day.”
“Show-off.” Hermione muttered, clutching a nearby railing for stability. She cleared her throat before calling out louder, “Do try not to crash into anything.”
Draco, to her surprise, navigated the simulation with impressive precision. His movements were deliberate, his hands steady as he worked the controls. “It’s just a matter of logic,” he said quietly when she complimented his capability. “Unlike someone who’s treating this like a game,” he added much louder, shooting Theo a pointed look, who responded with a cheeky wink.
“Lighten up, Malfoy,” Theo retorted with a wink, lazily spinning in mid-air. “We’re practically astronauts now.”
Draco shook his head, muttering something Hermione couldn’t quite catch, and turned his attention back to her. “You should try focusing on your center, Granger. That’s the key”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, her jaw tightening as she steadied herself. Determined not to let him show her up, she took a deep breath and launched herself forward, gripping the controls with renewed focus.
They continued for a while longer before breaking for a quick lunch. Afterwards, the trio returned to the training facility, where Dr. Harrow introduced a series of increasingly complex exercises. Emergency protocols, communication drills, and team-based problem-solving scenarios designed to push them to think under pressure. One particularly harrowing drill simulated a breach in the ship’s hull. The alarms blared, and Dr. Harrow’s voice rang out sharply. “Seal the section! You’ve got thirty seconds before decompression.”
Theo bolted for the console, his hands flying over the buttons. “What am I even looking at here?” he shouted, glancing back at Hermione.
“Override the vent sequence!” Hermione called, her voice steady despite the chaos. She pulled up the schematic, her fingers darting over the holographic screen. “Draco, shut off the oxygen flow to that section—it’ll buy us time.”
Draco’s lips thinned, but he didn’t hesitate. “Done,” he said curtly, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. The alarm silenced, and a faint hiss of simulated air pressure returned.
Dr. Harrow crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. “Sloppy, but effective. You’ll want to tighten that up before the real thing.”
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Hermione’s mind was a tangled mess of technical jargon, Draco’s patience had worn visibly thin, and even Theo’s usual levity was subdued. The exercises had pushed them hard, but they’d uncovered something surprising: moments where they actually worked well as a team.
That evening, they trudged back to their quarters in silence, the weight of the day pressing heavily on their shoulders. Theo was the first to break it, letting out a theatrical sigh. “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I think we’d make a fantastic comedy troupe. ‘Nott, Malfoy, and Granger: In Space.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve lost whatever shred of sanity you had left.”
Hermione smiled faintly, her exhaustion too deep for words. She briefly mumbled a good night as she retired to her room. As she collapsed onto her bed, she couldn’t shake the thought that despite the challenges, they were making progress. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was a start. And for the trials ahead, it would have to be enough.
The day had been an unrelenting onslaught of information, and the looming prospect of another gruelling session hung over them like a leaden weight. Yet, despite their exhaustion, one thing was undeniable: progress, however incremental, was being made—and they would need every bit of it for the challenges ahead.
________________________________
Their second day of training was interrupted by a meeting with Archibald Throckmorton, Hambledon Quince, and Soledad Cervantes. The trio of experts had gathered in a secured briefing room, its walls lined with enchantments that shimmered faintly, ensuring privacy and security. At the center of the room, a holographic display of the mysterious spacecraft rotated slowly, dominating the space with its presence. Magical runes hovered intermittently around the ship’s projection, glowing softly.
“Scans show a unique pattern of magical energy embedded in the hull,” Throckmorton began, his tone gruff. “Raw, unrefined—unlike anything we’ve encountered before. It feels... alive. Certainly beyond anything we’ve ever created.”
Theo, who had been leaning lazily against the wall, straightened slightly. “That’s not exactly comforting.”
“Alive doesn’t mean hostile,” Hermione interjected before Throckmorton could respond, her brows furrowing as she studied the projection. “It could be a byproduct of an advanced magical system we simply don’t understand yet.”
“Or it could be both,” Draco muttered under his breath, his arms crossed. “Unfamiliar magic has a habit of being unpredictable.”
Quince leaned forward, his excitement palpable as his fingers tapped rapidly on the table, his eyes alight with excitement. “Hermione, this is strikingly similar to the latent magic we theorised during your research. Think about it—an energy field capable of interacting with technology at a molecular level.”
Hermione’s mind whirred, connecting pieces rapidly. “If that’s the case, the ship’s trajectory is very unlikely to have been accidental. It would have been guided—or guiding itself.”
Cervantes, who had been standing quietly near the hologram, stepped forward, her sharp gaze sweeping over the group. “The patterns suggest some form of intelligence. Whether it’s an attempt to communicate with us or a signal meant for something—or someone—else, we can’t say yet. So far, it defies interpretation.”
“Let’s hope it’s not summoning its friends,” Theo quipped, though the unease in his voice undercut the levity.
Draco shot him a withering glance. “If that’s your contribution, perhaps you should save it.”
“Boys,” Hermione said sharply, her tone brooking no argument. She turned back to the hologram. “If it’s intelligence we’re dealing with, then understanding its purpose needs to be our priority.”
As the discussion continued, Hermione found herself drawn into a quieter exchange with Quince. He leaned slightly toward her, his voice pitched low, though excitement gleamed in his eyes. “Do you remember the hypotheses we developed on magical microorganisms? The idea of magic interacting at a cellular or molecular level?”
“Of course,” Hermione replied, her mind already racing ahead. “We speculated that magic might not just flow through us but also exist as independent entities—latent energies that could be activated under the right conditions.”
Quince nodded eagerly. “Exactly. This energy field—what the scans are picking up—it feels like a natural extension of that research. If it’s capable of merging with technology at a molecular level, we could be looking at a form of magical evolution, or perhaps magic as an organism itself.”
Hermione’s thoughts swirled, connecting theories and possibilities. “Evolution is the right word, I think. It’s as if magic is adapting, learning to exist in new environments, completely unlike our own. If this energy is sentient...” She hesitated, her voice dropping. “It could redefine everything we understand about spellwork. The implications—”
“—are staggering,” Quince finished, his tone reverent. He paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “And possibly dangerous. If this magic can evolve beyond traditional boundaries, it raises questions about control. Sentient magic... it wouldn’t necessarily follow the rules we know.”
Hermione tilted her head, considering. “You’re thinking about instability. Or resistance. But sentience doesn’t necessarily mean malevolence.”
Quince pressed his lips together, his enthusiasm tempered by caution. “True, but it doesn’t preclude it either. We should tread carefully.”
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by Throckmorton’s gruff voice cutting through the hum of discussion. “Focus, Granger. This isn’t an academic seminar.”
Hermione started slightly, glancing toward him. His sharp gaze was fixed on her, but his tone carried no malice—only urgency. She nodded, suppressing a flicker of irritation. “Yes, of course.”
Quince gave her a fleeting, understanding smile, leaning back as the larger group’s conversation resumed, discussing various magical anomalies that had been picked up across the planet. Hermione allowed herself one more moment to catalogue her thoughts before turning her full attention to the broader discussion, cutting in with a deliberate tone.
“The ship’s arrival coinciding with recent magical disturbances on Earth can’t be ignored. If the energy field is sentient, it might have detected those shifts. Or perhaps something about our magic is... familiar to it.”
Quince rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That’s plausible. A resonance between magical fields, perhaps. If it’s seeking alignment—or a source of sustenance—it might explain its proximity to Earth.”
“Or,” Draco said, his voice sharp, “it could be something far simpler: a distress signal.”
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over them. Hermione glanced at the hologram again, her mind a tangle of curiosity and unease. “If it’s a distress signal, we need to know who—or what—it’s calling.”
“Exactly,” Cervantes said, her voice cool but firm. “And whether we want them answering.”
Throckmorton nodded gruffly. “We’ve got plenty to ponder, but not much time. For now, I expect all of you to focus on your training. Speculation is fine, but it won’t save your skin if things go south.”
Hermione started slightly at the pointed comment, catching Throckmorton’s gaze. It carried no malice, but the weight of his expectations was unmistakable. “Yes, of course,” she replied, straightening in her seat.
“Good,” Throckmorton said. “Dismissed.”
After the meeting, the trio returned to the training facility with the weight of the discussion still lingering in their minds. Despite their best efforts, the exercises felt even more demanding than before, each task requiring them to integrate Muggle concepts with their own magical instincts. Hermione was surprised to find that both Theo and Draco were adapting to the unfamiliar terminology more quickly than she’d expected, even if Draco’s occasional sneer betrayed his frustration and Theo’s commentary bordered on flippant. They worked steadily through drills and simulations, their movements becoming more precise and their coordination smoother, though still far from perfect. By the time the day ended, the looming reality of their final day of training hung heavy in the air. The day after, they would meet their Muggle teammates, and the thought of fully immersing themselves in a world where magic didn’t exist made Hermione’s stomach twist with nerves. The magical world had become second nature to her; imagining how it felt for two pureblood boys, for whom magic was as natural as breathing, only heightened her anxiety. Passing as Muggles—flawlessly, without a single slip of their magical identities—felt daunting. They weren’t ready. Not yet. But time wasn’t on their side.
________________________________
The final day of training was the most grueling yet. They spent hours mastering Muggle technical terms, running emergency drills, and reviewing the latest data from the spacecraft. By now, the trio had developed a tentative rhythm, their initial uncertainty giving way to a grudging respect. Hermione found herself surprised at how well they had started to work together; their differences no longer felt like obstacles but rather like pieces of a puzzle slowly clicking into place. Even Draco, who she had once been certain was allergic to collaboration based on their school years, had softened enough to contribute useful insights—albeit delivered in his characteristically dry and clipped manner.
By the time they wrapped up, their bodies ached, and their minds were buzzing with information. The instructors had left them with one final warning: Tomorrow, no mistakes. It was meant to motivate them, but it hung in the air like a lead weight.
That evening, Hermione found herself alone in the common room of the joint suite they had been assigned. The space was comfortable, if unremarkable—an understated blend of Muggle design that she found oddly charming. Seated on the small sofa near the window, she was poring over the latest scan data, the soft glow of the lamp catching the edge of her pen as she scribbled notes on her notepad. The patterns on the hologram seemed to dance before her eyes, teasing at meaning, and she struggled to make sense of what the ship might be trying to communicate—if it was communicating at all. Too much was left to assumption, and she found herself wishing, not for the first time, that they had more time.
The sound of footsteps broke her concentration, and she glanced up to see Draco entering the room, two steaming cups in hand. Without a word, he set one down beside her before settling into the chair opposite her.
“You’ve been at that for hours,” he remarked, his voice as measured as ever.
“Thank you.” she murmured, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. She blew lightly on her tea before continuing.
“It’s fascinating,” she admitted to the man sitting across from her. “If the ship is sentient, we’ll need to approach it carefully. The wrong move, no matter how minor, could provoke it.”
Draco studied her for a long moment, the firelight catching the silver streaks in his otherwise pale blond hair. “You’re relentless, Granger. It’s... admirable.”
She blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “And you’re more adaptable than I expected,” she countered cautiously, unable to resist adding, “Even with all the Muggle jargon.”
His lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Don’t tell Theo. He’d never let me live it down.”
Hermione chuckled softly, then turned her attention back to the notes in front of her. For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the faint crackle of the enchanted fire and the occasional rustle of paper.
The peace was broken by the dramatic arrival of Theo, who burst into the room with a flourish, throwing himself onto the couch like an actor taking the stage. “Well,” he declared, arms spread wide, “are we ready to dazzle the Muggles tomorrow?”
Draco didn’t look up from his tea. “If by ‘dazzle,’ you mean terrify them with your complete lack of restraint, then yes.”
“Terrify? Malfoy, please.” Theo placed a hand over his heart, feigning offence. “I’m a paragon of charm and subtlety.”
Hermione snorted. “Subtlety isn’t exactly your strong suit, Theo.”
“Not yet,” Theo admitted, winking. “But give me time. By the end of this mission, I’ll have them convinced I’m a Muggle-born astrophysicist with a penchant for good coffee and bad jokes.”
“And intergalactic mushrooms,” Draco added dryly.
Theo grinned. “Ah, yes, the pièce de résistance of my cover story. Do you think they’ll buy it?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “If you actually learned the material instead of making jokes, you wouldn’t need to rely on such... creative storytelling.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Theo quipped. Then, his tone shifted, becoming quieter, more reflective. “Honestly, though, are we ready for this? Passing as Muggles, I mean. It’s... daunting.”
Hermione hesitated, glancing between the two men. She appreciated Theo’s candor; beneath his bravado, she knew he was wrestling with the same nerves she was. “It’s not going to be easy,” she admitted. “I’m nervous myself, and I grew up as a muggle. But we’ve made decent progress. More than I thought we would.”
“Progress,” Draco echoed, his tone sharp. “But not perfection. And that’s what they’ll expect from us tomorrow.”
Theo shrugged, though his usual levity was absent. “Good thing I’m not aiming for perfection. Just passable.”
“Passable might not cut it,” Hermione murmured, almost to herself. She stared at the notes spread before her, the weight of the mission pressing down on her chest. “We’ve had less than a week to prepare, and now we’re meant to blend seamlessly into their team. If one of us slips, even for a moment...”
“We won’t,” Draco interrupted firmly, his grey eyes locking onto hers. “We’ve gotten this far. We’ll manage.”
There was a conviction in his voice that caught her off guard. She nodded slowly, his certainty bolstering her own resolve. “You’re right. We’ve worked too hard to fail now.”
“Exactly,” Theo said, his grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And if all else fails, I’ll just dazzle them with my charm. Works every time.”
Draco muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Merlin help us.”
Hermione stood, stretching her arms above her head. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, though the knot in her stomach remained. “We should get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be... intense.”
The three of them exchanged brief nods, the air between them thick with unspoken understanding. As Hermione made her way to her room, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. They weren’t perfect—not by a long shot—but they were a team now. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.