Connection
The medical bay was eerily quiet in the dimmed hours that marked the ship’s artificial “morning.” The soft hum of the ship’s systems merged with the rhythmic beeping of the monitors, forming a steady backdrop to Hermione’s still form. Her chest rose and fell with the shallow cadence of deep sleep, her features pale but peaceful. Wires and magical runes intertwined around her, a strange juxtaposition of muggle technology and wizarding diagnostics. The magical symbols pulsed faintly, casting a soft glow that matched the beat of her heart on the monitors.
Draco leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Hermione. His wand rested loosely in his hand, his fingers idly tapping the polished wood, a rare giveaway of his tension. Across from him, Theo sat strapped into a chair, his wand tracing lazy arcs in the air, sending faint sparks upward like errant fireflies. Though his posture was casual, his eyes flicked toward Hermione every few moments, betraying his unease.
The door hissed open, and Aditi stepped inside, a tablet in hand. She paused briefly at the threshold, her sharp eyes sweeping over the room before she moved forward, her steps brisk yet careful.
“I see you’re both here early,” Aditi remarked, raising an eyebrow as she approached Hermione’s bedside. “Any changes?”
Draco pushed off the wall, his tone clipped. “None. She’s stable.”
Aditi turned her attention to the monitors, her fingers deftly adjusting the settings as the tablet hovered beside her. She leaned closer to Hermione, her brow furrowing as she checked the connections running to Hermione’s arm. “No anomalies,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. “But the energy field around her—it’s still active. That’s not normal, is it?”
Theo unbuckled himself with a practiced motion, floating toward the centre of the room with his usual air of irreverence. His grin was faint but persistent. “Nothing about this is normal, Doc. Magic and muggle tech? That’s uncharted territory even for us.”
Aditi gave him a sharp look, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m aware, Theo.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender, the glint of mischief returning to his eyes. “Just saying—don’t be surprised if the machines start levitating.” Kicking off lightly from the console, he propelled himself toward the exit. “I’m heading to the kitchen. Back in ten—with something marginally edible. Oatmeal, if we’re lucky.” His voice carried down the corridor as he disappeared.
Aditi shook her head, rolling her eyes as she returned her focus to the monitors. After a moment, she glanced at Draco, her expression curious. “Has he always been like this?” she asked, her tone light but probing. “It’s like he’s always deflecting with a joke.”
Draco’s gaze remained fixed on the diagnostics screen, his expression distant. “In a way,” he murmured. “But Theo didn’t have it easy. In our world…” He hesitated, his voice growing quieter, almost reluctant. “There was a war. And a wizard who went as bad as you can imagine.”
Aditi looked up from her tablet, her curiosity piqued, but she stayed silent, sensing the weight behind his words and giving him the space to continue.
Draco exhaled, his grey eyes darkening as he stared at the blank wall ahead. “Theo’s father… was one of his followers. Nott Sr. was a cruel man. Publicly, he was cold, calculating. But behind closed doors…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as though the memory itself was a burden. “Let’s just say no one really knows the full extent of what Theo endured growing up.”
He shifted slightly, his voice steadier now, but still laced with something raw. “After his father’s death—after the war—Theo disappeared for a while. We were all too consumed with trying to put the world back together to notice at first. And when he came back…” A faint, almost wistful smile tugged at the corner of Draco’s lips. “It was like he’d reinvented himself. Confident. Carefree. He swore he’d never let anyone cage him again—not his father, not the expectations of our world.”
Draco’s smile faded, replaced by a more sombre expression. “He uses humour as armour, to keep people from looking too closely. But he’s stronger than he lets on. He’s always been a survivor.”
Aditi absorbed his words in silence, her expression softening as she processed the weight of what he’d shared. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice gentle. “For telling me. I can’t imagine what that must have been like—for him, or for any of you.”
Draco gave a small nod, his composure returning. “He’s a good man, even if he hides it well. Just… don’t let him charm you into thinking he’s nothing but jokes. There’s more to Theo than meets the eye.”
The room settled into silence once again, the faint whirring of the equipment and the soft glow of the magical runes filling the quiet. Draco leaned back against the wall, his gaze returning to Hermione’s still form.
After a few moments, Aditi, unable to suppress her curiosity, broke the quiet. “Draco, I’ve been wondering about something else.”
Draco raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable but his tone edged with mild interest. “What’s that?”
“Do wizards ever wonder about the origin of magic?” Aditi asked, her tone careful but inquisitive. “You said it’s been around for centuries, but do you ever think about where it comes from? Is it genetic?”
Draco straightened slightly, clearly caught off guard by the question. He shifted his weight, crossing his arms as he considered it. “I don’t know. Genetics is a muggle science, after all,” he said after a thoughtful pause, his voice distant, as though dredging up half-remembered lessons. “Traditionally, it’s believed magic is passed down through bloodlines. In the old pureblood families, you see extremely powerful magic passed from one generation to the next, woven heavily into our estates.”
He paused, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Quince—you might know him from the ESA board—wrote a theory decades ago about magic originating from mushrooms.” His smirk twisted into a wry smile as he shook his head slightly. “People laughed him out of the room. Hermione says he misinterpreted the data but insists he’s brilliant. I still think he’s mad. But that’s probably the first time anyone even tried to look into the origins of magic.”
He paused, his gaze softening as it lingered on Hermione. “But then you have witches like her,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of something almost reverent. “No magical heritage, and yet, they wield magic with a precision and brilliance that shames most purebloods.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips, softening the starkness of his features. “She was the bane of my existence at school. Always outperformed me for top marks, much to my father’s endless frustration.”
Aditi followed his gaze, her expression thoughtful as she regarded Hermione. “She is impressive,” she murmured, her tone more reflective than complimentary. After a brief pause, she added, “But what if magic isn’t from Earth? What if it’s… external?”
Draco’s eyes narrowed, his focus snapping back to Aditi. “What are you implying?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with suspicion.
Aditi shrugged lightly, her tone speculative yet measured. “I’ve been wondering if magic could be part of something larger. What if it’s not just ours—what if it’s universal? Part of a bigger system we’ve barely begun to understand.”
Draco regarded her for a moment, his posture stiffening slightly. “From what I understand, that’s actually the focus of Hermione’s research,” he said, his tone easing into something closer to neutrality. “I don’t know all the details, but I do know she’s worked closely with Quince on it. He’s the one who recommended her to our Minister for this mission. She—”
His words were abruptly cut off as a subtle ripple passed through the room. The golden runes encircling Hermione’s bed pulsed brighter, their glow intensifying as the monitors began to beep more rapidly. The rhythm of the machines quickened in tandem with a faint, radiant light emanating from Hermione’s chest.
Draco and Aditi turned sharply toward her as her chest rose with a sudden, sharp intake of breath. Her eyelids fluttered, and then, slowly, they opened, revealing unfocused but unmistakably alert eyes.
The room fell into stunned silence, save for the hum of the machines and the frantic beating of their own hearts. For a moment, neither Draco nor Aditi moved, their shock palpable.
Hermione Granger was awake.
In the kitchen area of the ship, Simon, Robert, and Theo had gathered around the collapsible table for their first meal of the day. The compact space, with its functional design and faint metallic hum, wasn’t exactly cosy, but the presence of warm drinks and shared company lent it an air of camaraderie.
Theo leaned back in his chair, holding up an odd-looking protein bar and inspecting it as though it might sprout legs. “I know space rations are meant to keep us alive,” he said, his voice dripping with mock gravity, “but I’m starting to think they’re also a form of punishment.”
Simon smirked as he shook the bag containing his rehydrated coffee. “Not much of a gourmet experience, huh? You’d think with all the money that goes into these missions, they’d at least throw in some decent snacks.”
Robert, already halfway through his own packet of oatmeal, chuckled. “Decent snacks? Be glad we even got this. If Elena had her way, we’d all be on a strict liquid diet to maximise efficiency. No chewing allowed.”
Theo groaned dramatically, shoving the protein bar away with exaggerated flair. “Merlin’s beard, that sounds like something straight out of the Ministry’s ‘how to ruin everything’ handbook.”
Simon raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-sip. “Ministry handbook?”
Theo waved him off with a broad grin. “Long story. Lots of red tape and absolutely no fun. Trust me, you’re better off not knowing.”
Robert snorted. “Well, if Elena ever does ban solid food, I’ll riot. Chewing is non-negotiable.”
Theo nodded sagely, his tone suddenly solemn. “Exactly. What’s the point of saving the galaxy if you can’t have a proper meal while doing it?”
Simon laughed, shaking his head. “You keep this up, Theo, and I might start thinking the magical world is just one giant inside joke.”
“Maybe it is,” Theo replied with a wink, his grin returning full force. “Keeps things interesting, though, doesn’t it?”
Robert leaned back, the corners of his mouth quirking upward. “I can’t deny that. It’s fascinating, really—magic coexisting with all this science. I mean, think about what we could accomplish if we combined the two.”
Theo’s grin softened, taking on a more reflective edge. “I guess this mission can be our trial run, then, yeah? Bridging the gap. Though,” he added, leaning conspiratorially toward Robert, “if you start suggesting liquid diets, I’m out.”
Simon chuckled, raising his coffee in a mock toast. “Here’s to avoiding liquid diets—and keeping our snacks strictly chewable.”
Theo raised an imaginary glass with dramatic flair. “Cheers to that.”
The lighthearted conversation continued, the tension from the previous day’s events receding into the background. But before Theo could launch into another exaggerated tale, the comms system crackled to life, shattering the moment of levity.
“Aditi to all personnel,” came the clear, slightly breathless voice over the intercom. “Hermione’s awake. I repeat—Hermione is awake.”
The words hit like a thunderclap. Theo froze mid-gesture, his grin vanishing in an instant. He exchanged wide-eyed looks with Robert and Simon, the weight of the announcement sinking in.
Robert was the first to recover, unbuckling himself and shoving his chair back. “We should go,” he said, urgency threading his usually calm voice.
Theo nodded, already out of his chair and heading for the door. “Agreed. Let’s not waste time.”
Simon followed suit, glancing at Theo as they hurried toward the corridor. “How do you think she’ll take us knowing about magic?”
Theo shot him a fleeting grin, though his tone carried a mix of humour and caution. “She wanted you all to know from the start. Though she’s always been one for rules, our Hermione. But I don’t fancy being on the receiving end of her wand if she’s upset. Let’s blame it on Draco.”
Simon snorted, and Robert shook his head with a faint smile as they quickened their pace. As they turned the corner, Elena joined them, her expression sharp but curious. Together, they rushed toward the medical bay door, their collective sense of anticipation growing with every movement.
When they arrived at the medical bay, they pushed through the door to find a confused Hermione sitting propped against the raised section of the bed. Her features were still pale, but her sharp brown eyes flickered with growing alertness, darting around the room as though trying to piece everything together. The glow of the magical runes encircling her bed pulsed brighter now that she was awake, their soft golden light dancing across the walls.
Aditi hovered by her side, her hands moving deftly over her tablet as she muttered under her breath. “Vitals are holding steady… elevated heart rate, but that’s to be expected after—well, whatever that was.” She glanced up briefly, her expression a blend of clinical focus and genuine concern. “Hermione, can you tell me how you’re feeling? Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea?”
“I’m fine,” Hermione replied, her voice raspy but determined. She shifted slightly, wincing at the stiffness in her limbs. “Just tired. Like I ran a marathon in my sleep.”
Aditi hummed thoughtfully, her sharp eyes narrowing as she resumed tapping at her tablet. “Fatigue makes sense, considering. You’ve been out for nearly 30 hours. Your body was… struggling with something. We—”
“What the hell was that, Granger?” Draco interrupted, his voice clipped as he floated closer. His wand traced glowing diagnostic patterns over her, each movement precise and deliberate. “That was incredibly stupid—”
Hermione cut him off, her voice rising despite its hoarseness. “We needed information. We couldn’t understand anything it was showing us, and I was solving the problem!” She leaned forward, the fire in her tone unmistakable. “Honestly, I—”
She trailed off suddenly, her gaze shifting. Her eyes darted from Draco’s raised wand to the muggle team members standing nearby. Confusion crept across her face, quickly replaced by sharp anger. Her glare landed squarely on Draco, her voice low but laced with incredulity.
“What. Did. You. Do?”
Theo, ever quick to deflect, raised both hands as he pointed toward Draco, his voice coming out in a rapid ramble. “He did it! I had nothing to do with it, Granger—”
“Oh, that’s rich, Nott,” Draco shot back, his voice cold and biting. “You agreed it was necessary given the situation—”
“Necessary?” Theo countered, his tone edging toward mock indignation. “Malfoy let the cat out as soon as we returned. I only helped with explanations once the damage was done. If you’re going to curse someone, it shouldn’t be me—”
“She could have died, Nott!” Draco snapped, his wand lowering slightly but his temper still rising. “Given the circumstances, we were completely justified in violating the Statute. You were on board from the start—”
“ENOUGH!” Hermione shouted, her voice straining as it cut through the heated exchange like a whip. She leaned back, her hands gripping the edges of the bed as she glared at both of them.
The room fell silent instantly. Draco’s jaw tightened, his grey eyes narrowing, while Theo made a show of clamping his mouth shut, though his expression remained faintly amused.
From the side of the room, Robert and Simon exchanged a look, their amusement barely concealed. Simon raised an eyebrow at Robert, his tone dry as he murmured, “So, this is what magical teamwork looks like.”
Robert snorted softly. “Reminds me of a family dinner.”
Aditi shook her head but couldn’t suppress a faint smile. “And to think, I was worried we’d run out of entertainment.”
Hermione exhaled sharply, her sharp gaze flicking toward the muggle team. “You’re all enjoying this far too much.”
Elena, crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Oh, we’re loving it,” she said dryly. “Don’t mind us. Please, continue.”
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. “Someone explain—calmly—what happened.”
Draco and Theo exchanged a look before Draco finally sighed, his tone begrudging but measured. “We had to tell them, Granger. There wasn’t a choice. You were unconscious, your condition unstable, and their equipment—” He gestured toward the muggle medical machines. “We didn’t know if it would be enough.”
Hermione stared at him, her expression a mix of frustration and resignation. She exhaled slowly. “I’ll deal with you two later,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing briefly before she turned back to Aditi. “You said nearly 30 hours?”
Aditi nodded, her tone brisk but kind. “Yes. You’ve been unconscious since the spell. Your body needed time to recover.”
Hermione glanced at the magical runes pulsing softly around her, their golden light catching in her eyes. “Right,” she said quietly. “Then we’d better catch me up quickly.”
The atmosphere in the medical bay was thick with tension, like the charged stillness before a storm. Hermione sat upright in the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression composed but searching. Her sharp brown eyes flickered across the faces of the muggle crew gathered before her. Elena floated against the far wall, arms crossed and gaze sharp, though unreadable. Aditi hovered near the monitors, her notebook clutched tightly as though it were a lifeline. Robert and Simon were off to the side, exchanging wary glances. Draco leaned against another wall, his posture deceptively casual, but his eyes never strayed far from Hermione. Theo, perched on a nearby chair, twirled his wand lazily between his fingers, the movement betraying a nervous energy he didn’t otherwise show.
Hermione exhaled deeply, her gaze shifting to Draco and Theo. “Have you told them everything, then?” she asked, her voice calm but edged with expectation.
Draco’s nod was curt, his grey eyes flickering briefly toward the muggle team. Theo, in contrast, gave a languid shrug, his grin faint but present.
Hermione let out a slow breath, turning her attention back to the others. Her voice softened, steady but tinged with regret. “First, we owe all of you an apology. We should have been honest from the start, but… circumstances made that impossible.” Her gaze rested on Elena, her expression sincere. “You deserved the truth, especially as the leader of this mission. For that, I’m sorry.”
Elena’s lips pressed into a thin line, her stance unchanged. “Honesty would’ve been appreciated, yes,” she said curtly, though her tone lacked the bite Hermione had expected. “But I understand why you didn’t. Magic, as you call it… It’s not exactly the easiest thing to process.” Her voice softened slightly, the sharpness fading as curiosity took over. “What I want to know now is what this means—for the mission and for us. I’m hoping this scare at least provided us with some answers.”
Before Hermione could respond, Theo leaned forward, his grin widening. “What it means, Doc, is that you’ve joined the exclusive club of people who know magic is real. No membership fees required. Welcome aboard.”
Draco shot him a withering look, his voice cutting. Theo shrugged, undeterred, though his grin took on a cheekier edge.
Hermione’s brow furrowed as she glanced back at Elena. “You believe us, then? You don’t think we’ve been compromised?”
Elena nodded slowly, her arms uncrossing as she shifted her weight. Her gaze turned distant, her voice lowering. “When I was a kid, there was this boy in my neighbourhood. We were best friends. He could do the most amazing things—make objects move, change colours, even fix broken toys without touching them. At the time, I thought it was the sort of magic you see in cartoons.” A faint, almost wistful smile tugged at her lips before it quickly faded. “Then, when I was around ten, he disappeared. Off to some fancy boarding school. I assumed I’d made it all up—childhood imagination running wild. But now…” She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. “Now I realise it wasn’t a dream. It was magic.”
Draco, who had been silent throughout her story, tilted his head slightly, his grey eyes sharpening with curiosity. “And that’s why you believed us so easily,” he said, his tone calm and measured, more observation than question.
Elena nodded again, her gaze turning back to Draco, her voice firm. “It made the impossible easier to accept. And seeing what you’ve done—the evidence you’ve shown—it just… fits.”
Hermione watched her, her expression softening. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For trusting us.”
Elena straightened, her gaze sharpening once more. “That doesn’t mean I’m not furious about being kept in the dark,” she said firmly. “But I understand why you did it.”
Simon, who had been silent until now, raised a hand slightly, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “I still can’t wrap my head around it. Magic. You’re telling us it’s been real this whole time? How is that even possible?”
“It’s not just possible—it’s fact,” Aditi interjected, her tone brisk but tinged with wonder. “I’ve seen enough over the past couple of days to know there’s no logical explanation for what they can do. That levitation spell alone… it defies everything I thought I knew about physics.”
Hermione offered a small, apologetic smile. “It’s not something we ever expected to share with the non-magical world. The Statute of Secrecy was created centuries ago to protect both our worlds—from fear, persecution, and chaos. But now…” She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Now, the Statute may no longer be an option.”
She cleared her throat before continuing, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. “This mission is unlike anything any of us could have imagined. The ship, its connection to magic, and the knowledge it holds—it could change everything. Not just for wizards, but for muggles as well.”
Draco interrupted, his tone cutting through the quiet. “Before we get into all that, I’d like to ensure everything is alright medically. We only knew the basic diagnostic spells, Granger, since you’re our healer. If you could share anything more relevant, we might actually avoid catastrophe next time.”
Their eyes locked for a moment before Hermione leaned back against the bed, murmuring dryly, “Honestly, Malfoy, you sound more worried than irritated. Should I be flattered or concerned?”
Draco’s sharp grey eyes narrowed briefly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Granger,” he muttered, though his grip on his wand tightened. “It’s not like I enjoy saving you from your own idiocy. Honestly, what were you thinking, casting a spell like that on your own?”
Hermione shot him a glare, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness. “I didn’t exactly plan for things to go wrong,” she said pointedly. “And for the record, I was thinking. The spell was carefully calculated.”
“Calculated to do what? Blow yourself to pieces?” Draco’s tone was icy, but his hand lingered near the edge of the bed, as though ready to steady her.
Aditi raised her hand sharply, her exasperation evident. “Enough, you two. I don’t care about your philosophical debate over magical recklessness.” She turned her focus fully on Hermione, her gaze as piercing as ever. “What I care about is whether your vitals will stop giving me an aneurysm. So, I’ll ask again—how do you feel? Be specific.”
Hermione sighed, reaching for the water packet beside her and taking a careful sip. She met Aditi’s gaze with a mixture of exhaustion and uncertainty. “Honestly? I feel… strange.”
She shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, the faint glow of the magical runes reflecting in her dark eyes. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket draped across her lap as she continued, her voice hesitant. “There’s something else.”
Aditi paused, her tablet still in hand, her eyes narrowing. “Something else?” she asked carefully.
Hermione nodded slowly, her brows knitting together as she glanced around. “I… I don’t know how to explain it, but I can sense things. Emotions, I think.”
Aditi froze mid-motion, her tone sharp with intrigue. “Emotions?” she echoed. “What do you mean, exactly?”
Hermione’s brow furrowed, her words measured as she gestured vaguely toward Draco. “It’s like… there’s this faint hum in the back of my mind, but it’s not mine. It’s yours.” Her gaze flicked to Theo. “And yours.”
Aditi straightened, her fingers hovering over her tablet. “Hermione, are you saying you’re empathic now?”
Hermione winced slightly at the word, as though reluctant to embrace it. “It’s not quite empathy. It’s… similar, but faint—just an undercurrent. Right now, for example, I can sense Theo’s worry.” Her gaze shifted to Draco, and a faint blush coloured her cheeks. “And Draco’s…”
She hesitated, her voice softening. “I’m not sure what to call it. Frustration, maybe? Or concern. It’s… muddled.”
Draco straightened, his sharp features hardening into a mask of scepticism. “That’s absurd,” he said tightly, though the faint tension in his voice suggested otherwise. But as the words left his mouth, he stilled, his expression flickering as though something had clicked.
A faint, charged silence hung between them, unspoken possibilities thrumming in the air before Draco stiffened, his grey eyes narrowing. “I think you’re imagining things, Granger.” he said, his tone guarded.
“I’m not,” Hermione replied firmly, her voice gaining strength despite the fatigue etched in her features. “I know it sounds strange, but it’s there.”
Aditi raised an eyebrow, scepticism flashing briefly in her eyes before she gave a small nod and began scribbling in her notebook. Theo tilted his head, his expression a blend of confusion and curiosity.
“Wait, hold on,” Theo said, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not just guessing, it’s real?”
Hermione shook her head, her brow furrowing. “No, it’s not guessing. It’s something I actually feel.” Her gaze settled on Theo. “I noticed it even before you came in. I could feel your mood—light, amused, but with an edge of worry.”
Theo blinked, his grin faltering. “You… felt that? From all the way in the kitchen?”
“Yes.” Hermione exhaled, leaning back against the raised bed. “It’s faint, but it’s there.”
Theo scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly unsettled. “Weird. Because now that you mention it…” He trailed off, his expression shifting as he glanced at Draco. “I’ve been feeling… something too. I think I can pick up on your mood. And hers.”
Draco’s sharp gaze snapped to Theo, his voice low and clipped. “What?” he demanded, his tone cold but with an undercurrent of unease.
Theo gestured vaguely between Hermione and Draco, a faint smirk returning to his lips. “Yeah, I thought I was losing it earlier. When I was in the kitchen, I could swear I felt… something from you, Malfoy.” His smirk widened. “Quite the brooding presence, you are.”
Draco scowled, his posture stiffening. “This is ridiculous.”
“Is it, though?” Hermione countered, her tone calm but insistent. “Think about it. The ship’s magic reacted to us—it changed something. Maybe this is part of that.”
Aditi, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke, her voice tinged with fascination. “If you’re right, then this… empathic ability could be a byproduct of the ship’s energy. It’s possible it altered the magical frequencies of your cores to create some kind of… shared resonance.”
Draco’s sharp eyes turned to Aditi, his voice laced with scepticism. “What are you suggesting? That we’re all connected now?” His tone was measured, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease.
Hermione hesitated, weighing her words before nodding. “Maybe. Or at least partially. It would explain why I’m picking up on your emotions—and why Theo is too.”
Theo, ever the one to deflect with humour, smirked faintly. “So what you’re saying is, we’re stuck in a magical group therapy session? Brilliant. Can’t wait for the team-building exercises.”
Draco’s glare deepened, his expression darkening. “You are insufferable.”
Theo grinned, floating forward with exaggerated flair to drape an arm over Draco’s shoulders. “And yet, here we are—sharing our feelings. Bonding, even.”
Draco shrugged him off with a roll of his eyes. “If you don’t stop, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Hermione, despite the tension in the room, let out a soft laugh. “Well, if we’re stuck with this, we might as well make the best of it.” She glanced between the two wizards, her gaze lingering on Draco for a moment too long. “And maybe try not to kill each other in the process.”
Aditi tapped her pen against her notebook, drawing their attention back to her. “Before we worry about who’s killing who, let’s focus on figuring out what this connection actually means.” Her voice softened slightly as she turned to Hermione. “You’re stable for now, but I’d like to monitor you closely for the next 24 hours. We still don’t fully understand why it took so long for you to wake.”
“Of course.” Hermione gave a quick nod, her voice steady.
Robert stepped forward, his arms crossed, though his expression was far more intrigued than wary. An excited smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “In the meantime, what happens next? Magic and science—they’ve been kept apart for so long. But I can’t help wondering… what could we achieve if we worked together?”
Aditi nodded enthusiastically, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Exactly. The potential applications are limitless—medicine, energy, even space travel. Imagine if we could combine your spells with our technology. The possibilities are staggering.”
“I’ve always believed we could do great things combining magic with technology,” Hermione said, a small smile playing at her lips. “Wizarding curiosities are a fair bit stifled with so much being done by magic alone. This could improve both our worlds.” Her tone grew firmer, conviction threading through her words. “But it does require understanding—and respect.” She turned her gaze to Elena, her expression softening. “Which is why it was so important to keep it secret. We didn’t want to risk exposing magic to the world before we were ready to handle the consequences.”
Elena nodded slowly, her expression pensive. “I get that now,” she admitted. “And, for what it’s worth, we’ll keep your secret, though I’ll need to inform Rodotà. He’s been going over my head since before this mission began, and that will stop.”
For the first time since the mission began, there was a sense of tentative unity in the room. The divide between magic and science, though still tangible, seemed less insurmountable. But as Hermione glanced at the glowing runes encircling her bed and the faint pulse of the ship’s magic still lingering in her veins, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the hardest part was yet to come.
“Ms. Granger,” Elena’s tone cut through the quiet, pulling everyone back to focus. “Was your spell successful, at least? Are you able to share anything with us?”
Hermione shifted upright in the medical bay bed, her legs crossed beneath the blanket, her pale face betraying her exhaustion, though her eyes held steady determination. Her hands rested in her lap, but the tension in her posture betrayed the storm of thoughts swirling within her.
She exhaled slowly, glancing at each of them in turn before speaking. “I… I took in everything the ship was holding. All its data. It’s like I opened a dam, and it just flooded in.”
Theo arched an eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. “That was reckless, even for you.”
“It wasn’t reckless,” Hermione retorted, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness. “The spell was designed to extract information—to bridge the gap between the ship’s magical systems and my mind. I accounted for the risks.” She hesitated, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. “I just… underestimated how much there was.”
Draco’s voice cut through the room like a knife, his arms crossing over his chest.
“Underestimated? Granger, you’re lucky you didn’t burn out your magical core—or your brain.”
“She’s lucky she didn’t implode,” Theo added with a faint smirk, though his eyes held a glimmer of concern. “You’re a right idiot for trying that yourself, Granger.”
Hermione shot him a withering glare, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s… complicated,” she said after a moment, her tone softening. “The information isn’t linear. It’s like a puzzle, but half the pieces are missing.” She paused, glancing at the magical runes glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. “And the pieces I do have—they don’t make sense. Yet.”
A heavy silence filled the room as her words sank in, the enormity of what she had undertaken clear on everyone’s faces. Hermione pressed on, her tone steady but tinged with urgency. “What I do know is that the ship wasn’t abandoned. It was sent here—on purpose.”
Robert’s brow furrowed, his curiosity evident as he leaned forward slightly. “Sent here? By who? And why?”
“That’s the part I’m struggling with,” Hermione admitted, her frustration clear. “The ship’s systems were adapted to sustain something—living organisms, I think. But they’re not human. At least, not exactly. They’re… similar to us. Humanoid, but different.”
Elena folded her arms, her expression sceptical but laced with curiosity. “So, you’re confirming that aliens sent this ship?”
Hermione nodded slowly. “Yes. And it wasn’t just a random encounter. They found this ship drifting in space and saved it. They altered it, bonded with it in ways I don’t fully understand. Then they sent it here for a specific purpose—though I still don’t know what that is.”
Draco pushed off the wall, his voice clipped as he crossed the room. “If they saved the ship, why did it lose power? What went wrong?”
“That’s another piece of the puzzle I can’t figure out yet,” Hermione said, a flicker of frustration creeping into her voice. “The magic they used—if it works like ours—it could have sustained the ship indefinitely. But something disrupted it. Something broke the connection.”
Simon, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice laced with scepticism. “So let me get this straight. A ship full of aliens—or whatever they are—sends itself to Earth, and you’re telling us we have no idea why?”
“Not yet,” Hermione admitted, her voice quiet but firm. “But the more time I spend with this data, the clearer it becomes. It’s how the spell works—my mind needs to organise it, sort it into something coherent. I just need time.”
Theo leaned back further in his chair, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Time, huh? Well, lucky for you, Granger, we’re not going anywhere.”
Draco ignored Theo’s quip, his sharp gaze zeroing in on Hermione. “And the muggles? Do we know why it didn’t respond to them?”
Hermione’s expression tightened, her eyes flicking to the non-magical members of the team. “That’s… another problem. The information I accessed isn’t just about the ship. It’s connected to us—humans. Earth. Magic. The aliens know about us, or at least enough to think we’re important in some way. And now, thanks to the spell I cast, they know more than ever. When the light connected with me, I could feel something like a message being sent off.”
Theo let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “So not only do the muggles know about magic, but the aliens do too. Nice going, Granger. Shacklebolt’s going to love this.”
Elena shot Theo a sharp warning look, her tone firm but calm as she turned to Hermione. “You’re worried about the Statute of Secrecy, aren’t you?”
Hermione nodded, her voice steady but tinged with unease. “It’s been broken. Revealing ourselves to you—it was forbidden at the start, but there are allowances for life-threatening situations. We can defend your knowledge to the Ministry.” She cast a brief glance at Theo before continuing. “Though he’s correct—the Minister will be upset. But finding out that there is an extraterrestrial race that knows about us has far more serious consequences. And the fact that they are intentionally reaching out? It could mean the world as we know it is about to change. Whether we’re ready or not.”
Aditi, who had been quietly taking notes, glanced up, her tone brisk but edged with concern. “That’s assuming the world even believes us. We’re a small team on a classified mission. If this gets out, there’ll be chaos.”
“Which is why we need to figure out what’s coming,” Hermione said firmly, her eyes glinting with determination. “I don’t have all the answers yet, but I will. I just need time to process the data.”
Elena nodded, her expression hardening as she stepped forward, her presence commanding. “Then take the time you need, but be ready to share everything you find. This mission isn’t just about discovery anymore—it’s about survival.”
The room fell silent, Hermione’s words settling heavily over the group. The hum of the Arcanis’s systems seemed louder in the stillness, a reminder of the alien presence that had set all this in motion. They had come to the ship expecting to uncover secrets. Instead, they had found themselves standing on the precipice of something that could upend their entire understanding of the world—and their place in it.
The medical bay was quiet once the others had left, save for the faint hum of the ship’s systems and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors still tracking Hermione’s vitals. The glow of the magical runes encircling her bed had dimmed, their soft, golden light flickering like embers. Hermione sat cross-legged on the bed, her hands resting lightly on her knees, her eyes closed in concentration.
She inhaled deeply, holding her breath for a moment before releasing it slowly. The hum of magic connecting her to Draco and Theo was a constant presence now, subtle but unmistakable, like the faint pressure of fingertips brushing against her thoughts.
Focus, Hermione, she told herself. Piece it together. The information is there; you just need to find it.
Her breathing slowed further, and the chaotic fragments of data she had absorbed from the ship began to surface in her mind. Star charts, alien script, and faint echoes of a voice she couldn’t quite place swirled together like a tempest. She pressed deeper, trying to separate the pieces, to make sense of—
A soft knock interrupted her concentration, pulling her back to the present. Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her head toward the door.
Draco stood there, framed by the dim hallway light. In his hands, he held a packet of oatmeal and a bottle of water. He floated inside without waiting for an invitation, his movements deliberate but hesitant, as though testing the waters.
“Granger,” he said, his voice low, his usual sharpness softened. “You’ve barely eaten. Figured I’d bring you something before you keel over.”
Hermione blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Oatmeal, Malfoy?” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re spoiling me.”
He rolled his eyes but released the items to float beside her bed. “It was either that or another protein bar. I assumed you’d prefer something edible.”
She chuckled softly, her body relaxing slightly as she reached for the bottle of water. “Thanks.”
Draco moved near the wall, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched her take a sip. His gaze was unreadable, but Hermione felt the faint tug of something beneath the surface—curiosity, concern, and something warmer she didn’t dare name.
She hesitated for a moment, then decided to address the unspoken tension. “You don’t have to hover, you know,” she said lightly, setting the bottle back down. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” Draco echoed, his tone edged with scepticism. “You’ve just absorbed the collective knowledge of an alien ship, developed a new empathic connection, and nearly fried your magical core. Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”
Hermione sighed, her lips quirking into a faint smile despite his sarcasm. “Fair enough.”
Draco tilted his head slightly, his grey eyes sharpening as he studied her. “Is it still there for you?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
Hermione hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly as she focused inward. “Yes,” she admitted softly. “It’s faint, but I can sense… something.” She glanced at him, her voice lowering. “You’re… concerned, though you’re trying not to show it.”
Draco stiffened slightly, his gaze flickering away for a brief moment before snapping back to her. “Concerned?” he repeated, his tone defensive. “I’m cautious, Granger. There’s a difference.”
Her smile widened, though it remained subdued. “If you say so,” she murmured.
Draco exhaled, his posture relaxing slightly but his eyes never leaving her face. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward but carried an unspoken weight, the hum of their connection faint but undeniable.
“What else can you sense?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.
Hermione closed her eyes briefly, focusing on the thread of magic connecting them. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat in the distance, carrying emotions that weren’t hers. When she opened her eyes, her gaze met his. “You’re worried,” she said softly. “Not just about me. About all of this—what it means, what’s coming.”
Draco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “It’s a lot to take in,” he admitted, his voice low. “Magic, aliens, the Statute… it’s all unravelling faster than we can keep up.”
Hermione nodded, her expression sombre. “It is. But we’ll manage. I’ve yet to come across a problem I can’t solve.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them, not awkward but laden with unspoken thoughts. Hermione felt the faint hum of his emotions settle, his guarded exterior softening ever so slightly. And then, like a ripple in still water, she felt something else—warmth, tinged with hesitation. She looked up to realize he was watching her intently.
Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the oatmeal instead. The connection between them made it impossible to ignore the undercurrent of emotions they both seemed determined to suppress.
Draco cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “If this empathic connection is another long-term effect of the ship’s magic, we’ll need to find a way to control it. Otherwise…”
Hermione glanced up at him, her lips curving into a wry smile. “Otherwise, you’ll have to get used to me knowing when you’re worried about me.”
He snorted softly, the sound genuine and unexpected. “Merlin forbid.”
She laughed quietly, the sound lightening the tension in the room before letting the silence settle again.
Draco’s voice broke through once more, softer this time. “You feel light,” he said, almost hesitantly. “I know that doesn’t make much sense, but it’s the only way I can think to describe it.”
They stayed silent for a moment longer, his words lingering in the air before he added, barely above a whisper, “I’m glad you’re alright, Granger. I suppose, since you can feel what I feel, there’s no use in pretending. I was… uncomfortable with the thought of losing you.”
Hermione looked up, her eyes locking with his once more. Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile. She could feel his anxiety through their connection and decided to leave it at that.
“Thanks for the oatmeal, Draco,” she said after a beat, her voice quiet but sincere.
He nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long before he turned toward the door. “Don’t stay up all night meditating,” he said over his shoulder. “You’ll need your strength for whatever insanity comes next.”
Hermione watched him leave, the door hissing shut behind him. She exhaled slowly, her hand brushing against her chest as the faint pulse of their connection resonated within her. Whatever this was—this new bond, this magic—it wasn’t something they could ignore. But for now, she set the thought aside, turning her attention back to the oatmeal.
The storm outside could wait a little longer.