Death Eaters

Chapter 39: Relentless Momentum

We'd just left the restaurant, spilling out into a busy muggle street buzzing with people and cars and that irritating city smell. Harry, Hermione, and Ron walked a little ahead of us—close enough that we could keep pace, but far enough that it felt like Draco and I were trailing behind like two very out-of-place shadows. Harry kept glancing back every few seconds, checking if I was still there, still intact, still breathing. As if I'd suddenly disappear if he looked away for too long. Draco walked beside me with that usual Malfoy indifference—shoulders straight, hands shoved in the pockets of his all-black suit, expression bored beyond reason.

Meanwhile, I crossed my arms tightly, my hair slightly disheveled but not a strand daring to fall completely out of place. The bandage on my cheek was beginning to itch. The glamour charm had worn off an hour ago, I could feel the last traces of magic fading from my skin.
But to my surprise... I was shocked he was even here. Draco Malfoy, strolling openly through London with the Golden Trio in plain sight—his actual face out in the open. Anyone from the Ministry or the Death Eaters could've recognized him. Or me. Especially me. Still... I couldn't help but wonder why it was Draco who found us, and not Mattheo.

As we slipped into the flow of pedestrians, Draco and I talked—or, well, discussed the things we absolutely needed to address.

"I'm surprised you're still alive and well," Draco drawled, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Potter taking good care of you, is he?"

I shot him a side-eye, my smile turning involuntarily giddy. I didn't bother denying it. "You could say that. He's... very protective."

"It's essential," Draco said, tone clipped. "If anything happens to you, he answers to us. He'd better be keeping an eye on you—"

Before he could continue, I shushed him and placed a finger on his lips. Immediately, he swatted my hand away with a sharp smack, recoiling like I'd corrupted him. I burst into soft laughter as he stared at me with narrowed eyes, wiping the spot where my finger had been.

"Revolting," he muttered. "Merlin knows what you use those fingers for. Probably on Potter's di—"

I whipped my head toward him so fast he shut up mid-word. My eyes widened, brows drawn low, lips pressed tight—that try it again and I'll hex your spine out look. Draco instantly clamped his mouth shut and turned away with a scowl. I glanced toward Harry—he was preoccupied now, speaking in low urgency to Hermione and Ron. Something serious. Something he wasn't saying aloud yet.

As we continued walking, the question finally clicked in my mind, and I asked Draco before the thought could slip away.

"How exactly did you find us, Dray? And how are you even here?" My tone sharpened with curiosity—this was something I needed to know.

He didn't even hesitate. "I overheard Rookwood and Rowle planning to hit that Muggle café down the street. They said Potter was inside, so I followed them." Draco's voice was matter-of-fact, almost bored. "And—well, yes. I found you four. You, in particular."

"Smart," I said with a nod. "But you didn't really have to follow me here. I'm fine. I've got Potter—the Chosen One—Hermione, the most intelligent witch at Hogwarts, and Ron who... well, was once the most terrified, squeaky-voiced kid and is now somehow brave and a full-time lover-boy." I snorted at my own summary. It was painfully accurate.

"I don't care what you say, cous," Draco replied, tone softening with something unmistakably close to worry. "I just needed to make sure you're alright."

"I appreciate that. Really." I breathed out. "But I've been through hell—almost dying, trying to die, bruised, cut, throwing myself into danger every chance I get for this mission. And I'm still standing, Dray. At the end of the day, it's Potter's life we're guarding here."