The Aurora Paradox

The sky above London was covered with a cloud, filling with myriads of small drops, threatening to soon spill out as warm rain on the asphalt. Hermione looked at the riot of nature, and something inside gave off an obsession. She brushed away the bad thoughts and stepped into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. It was unlikely that today anything could go wrong. After all, she was really looking forward to today's trip. The first assignment abroad, and she would spend another day with him. Approaching the elevator, she saw in the crowd, goosebumps familiar, a flash of platinum hair of her partner. As if feeling her gaze on him, he turned around. - Miss Granger. - Mr. Malfoy, - she greeted him, approaching him. The elevator arrived, they silently entered along with the rest of the staff. A few dozen seconds later, a metallic voice announced "Department of International Relations", colleagues left through the open doors and headed to the common office. - How did you sleep? Everything okay? - Yes, Malfoy, I'm just a little nervous before moving. And you? - My morning is always good when I have a morning meeting with you, - he grinned and opened the office door for her, - come in. She rolled her eyes and smiled. Draco walked further into the office, unlocking the desk with a key and a spell. He took out a package in wax paper. - We still have thirty minutes until activation. Do you want coffee? - Yes, but there is no one to make it. - Oh, don't worry, it's just a coffee machine, it will brew everything itself. One day I will teach you how to use it. Walking up to the table with the coffee machine, she took out two cups, inserted one into the recess and pressed the button. The coffee machine buzzed, filling the porcelain with double espresso. The beloved aroma swirled in the air. - Granger, - smiling mysteriously, - Where did we leave off yesterday? You were telling me about your children's books. You know I'm waiting for the continuation. - Wow. What's wrong, took you back to your childhood? Probably wanted a continuation of my story before going to bed? - not immediately thinking about how ambiguous it could sound. - What? - I wanted to say ... oh, don't look at me like that, Malfoy! You know what I mean. Your obsession is starting to make me think that your mother didn't read you enough fairy tales, - smiling, she took the cups of coffee, heading to the table and chairs. He took out the cream and sat down opposite her. The package with the portkey was placed in front of him on the table. — Narcissa said that they were all based on real stories. But they were different. I didn't live in the Muggle world, who knows what they teach children before bed? — he persisted, — Do you want me to add? — Yes, please. What makes you think that Muggles are taught anything special? They're just children. And children's stories. — They're not that childish. Many of them are creepy. The stepmother poisoned her new husband's daughter? Because she was prettier than her? What did the mirror tell her? What kind of nonsense is that? — Well, you know, I think many of the girls from your house would have liked the story. — No one in Slytherin would think of poisoning children, don't exaggerate. They're not that bad. You would even have become friends if you'd gotten to know each other better and there had been no war. On the other hand, they were very jealous of you," he smiled, examining the cup in his hands, and continued, "Well, you know, you became very popular after Skeeter's publications. And after the ball with Krum. It was literally the worst day for them. You spoiled their mood. They didn't calm down for another month. They dubbed you the Gryffindor princess. If that stepmother had been among them, I think you would have been in trouble. - What? Could any pureblood girl envy me? And wait, did you think I was the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts? - Didn't you? You were like something out of that fairy tale. Did you tell me what it was called? The one who didn't keep an eye on her shoes and turned into a pumpkin. - She didn't turn into a pumpkin. The carriage did. And she lost her shoe when she left. The prince found it later. With the help of that shoe. You weren't listening carefully. - Sorry. I haven't remembered everything yet. So much new information, - the porcelain felt cold on his lips, - so what about the one who was poisoned? Did she die? What about her fiancé? Sounds like a Shakespeare play. They were poisoned there too. - She survived when the spell wore off. The prince found her and kissed her. What? Malfoy, have you read Shakespeare? - A healing kiss? Probably with the taste of a bezoar? - He smirked, ignoring her question. - There was no bezoar, it's a Muggle fairy tale, Malfoy. - Well, you know, the author could have been a wizard. By the way, is it true that Weasel was poisoned with a love potion in his sixth year? - True. Harry gave him the antidote in time. More precisely, it was not the potion that poisoned him, but the professor's drink! Ron is not to blame, the sweets were for Harry. And it was not from the potion. Just strong Amortentia. Harry thought he had gone crazy. - Yes, I know, I am to blame for his poisoning, I did not know that it was both - he darkened, looking at one point - it's good that Potter was not "that prince" for him, he gave the antidote and did not rush to kiss. Slughorn would have had a stroke. He is so impressionable. The only thing missing in his life was Potter kissing Weasley. And your red-haired one is the most unfortunate of the three. First the sweets with a shock dose of Amortentia, then immediately the poisonous mead. It's no wonder he stayed close to the Chosen One and you. He wouldn't have lasted on his own, with his pathological mania for putting everything in his mouth. I apologized to him, if anything. I don't like him, but not enough to poison him. — I'm glad you realized it. — Well, you know, I didn't really have a choice. It doesn't matter that I realized it even then. You know, the regular Legilimency intrusion and the mind monitoring. No one gave me the chance to choose sides. He tortured my mother all through sixth year, my father was in prison, no one to protect her - staring at one point, without blinking. — Just the right dark story for one of your fairy tales. Where the Chosen One, in the end, saves even the villains. — You're not a villain, Malfoy. You just had bad luck. You know who the villain really was. — But you also had bad luck being the prince who gets everything. That role was filled by Potter from the start. It was not for nothing that Pansy picked him up. She had been crazy about him since first year. The perfect couple from a fairy tale. — Yes, they are perfect for each other. Who would have thought. After everything. I didn't know you wanted to be a character from a fairy tale, - finishing her coffee, a gentle smile touched her lips to the barely visible dimples on her cheeks. - Of the ones you told me, I would like. - And which one is yours? He glanced at the clock on the wall, then looked at her. "I think I'll find out. We should get up." He picked up the package from the table and pulled out a wristwatch-shaped portkey. Who even chose these things to move? Did the Ministry take the forgotten things out of the Room of Requirement? They stood opposite each other. Hermione adjusted her bag and slid her warm palms over his forearms, squeezing lightly. Draco watched the movement, and held his breath at her touch. The faint scent of cherry and vanilla hit his nose. Her scent. He would think about it later. "Ready?" he asked hoarsely, clearing his throat. "Yes." He looked at her hands again and then at the eyelashes that framed her eyes. - Granger? - What? - Tell me about Shakespeare when we get back? She smiled one of his favorite smiles and nodded. They were sucked into the magic of the portkey, leaving the room empty. *** Draco almost fell. Clutching his watch in his hand, he realized something was wrong. Hermione was not with him. He turned, his eyes searching the area. He was in the forest. What the hell? This wasn't the Ministry of Magic in France, where they were supposed to be transported. Potter gave him the wrong portkey? - Granger? Where are you? There was a noise in the distance. He turned around. A horse and rider were rushing towards him, raising dust from the road. As they approached, their pace began to slow. A young man drew level with him, and his horse snorted from the headband pulled back. “Good afternoon. Have you seen a girl here? Dark, long hair. Her name is Aurora,” the stranger said, evening out his breathing. “Good... afternoon... no?” Malfoy stammered at his unexpected appearance, then seemed to remember, “And you mine? Very curly hair? Her name is Gre... Hermione?” “Just like the heroine of a Shakespearean play,” smiling with all his teeth in a kind smile, “Aurora read to me.” He nodded to himself, and came to his senses, “No, I haven’t met her.” A bird screamed in the forest, took off from a branch and flew away. - Well, I have to go. Not much time. Nice to meet you. Malfoy called out to him as he was about to leave. - Sir, wait. I don't know how I ended up here. My...girlfriend... - hesitating - and I were heading to France. But instead, I woke up here, right before you arrived. By myself. I don't know what happened. And I need to find her. - You're in France. You can come with me. When I find Aurora, I'll help you find your...wife? - No. We're not married... yet. - I see. Well, get on your horse. My name is Nicholas. - Draco, - not knowing what manners to use in such a situation. Malfoy put the watch in his pocket, which he had been clutching in his hand the whole time. He felt his wand in his pocket. It was there. He saddled the animal and they set off. The horse picked up speed. - Draco, where are you from? - England. - Not close. And your carriage is gone. - ... that's true. But I'll deal with that ... later. The main thing is to find my girl. She could be in trouble. - Probably. My Aurora too. She sent me a letter at night. She wrote that her father's new wife had something in mind after he left. I'm going to pick her up. I'm afraid that if she didn't wait for me, she left on her own, through the forest. I left in the middle of the night, a long way. But we're almost there. Her castle will soon be in sight. The dust rose from the blows of the hooves, carrying the riders into the distance through the dense forest framed by the meager rays of the sun.