分卷阅读23（1 / 2）

Harry ushered them to a far corner in the back, in the dark shadows of wizarding cloaks that had been left there from decades past. He pushed Malfoy against the wall and held his sides when he realized his eyes were twisted shut in pain. “Malfoy,” Harry whispered. There were droplets of sweat forming at the end of his temples. “Draco, breathe,” he said.

Something in Malfoy’s face relaxed. Harry waited minutes. Merlin, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Finally, Malfoy’s breathing was back to normal. When his grey eyes slowly opened and stared back at him, Harry didn’t know what to say.

A clamor at the entrance of the room made them break their stare and turn toward the noise. Two figures had entered the cloak room. Harry peered through a gap in the thick huddle of cloaks. It was the hotel manager, Valentine, and a shorter figure in a dark blue hooded cloak.

“I told you not to come here,” Valentine hissed. The look of outrage on his face was something so completely foreign to Harry, he almost thought he’d been mistaken in his recognition. But then, “This is my place of work,” Valentine added. “We can’t be seen together.”

“I wanted to tell you in person that I’ll be voting against you,” the woman seethed. Through her disdain, Harry knew that voice. It was the woman from the house, the one holding Bertrice.

Valentine scoffed. Harry was still in shock at his harsh tone. “And why would that be? We need more if we’re going to accomplish our goals. Zivantus controls the supply and holds our aspirations hostage in the process. This is the only way.”

The woman shook her head. “You want to risk the life of an innocent girl?”

“I want to hold the world on its knees, Carmen. Is that too much to ask?”

Harry gasped and stepped back into Malfoy. They fell into a shelf with a thud and something metal clattered to the ground. Malfoy grabbed him and crowded him into the cloaks on the other side of the aisle. Standing chest to chest, Harry leaned back as he felt Malfoy’s hand between them. “What are you—” but in the shadowy darkness he made out the shine of gold, and the next moment they were falling through time, once again pressed closer together than might otherwise have been necessary.

When the steady feeling returned, Harry didn’t move. Malfoy’s face was above his shoulder and he could feel his breath against his neck. The warm sensation of it hooked at something in his chest and made him lean closer.

“We should be safe,” Malfoy whispered and pulled away, stepping out from the cloaks and into the deserted aisle. “I’ve taken us forward a few hours.”

“Safe,” Harry shivered. “Right.”

He pushed the sudden emptiness that rose up back somewhere deep inside himself. He didn’t have the time to deal with his body’s reactions to Malfoy. And it wasn’t Malfoy, Harry told himself. It was simply a physical response to stimulus.

“Are you alright?” Malfoy asked.

Harry gulped. “I—I should ask you the same, Malfoy.” Harry’s inner turmoil was replaced with concern. Before they’d been interrupted, Malfoy had been on the verge of a panic attack. “What happened back there?”

Malfoy pursed his lips. “What indeed. Was that the hotel manager colluding with the kidnapper? Your boss is the mastermind behind this whole thing and you had no idea.” He added sarcastically, “Paint me surprised, Potter.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh.

“It all makes sense now,” Malfoy declared. “Zivantus must have provided these malefactors with the inquollis anicorpus. They managed to figure out he had the Timepiece, and presumably used it to cultivate the plant, and now they’ve finally decided to extort it from him.”

“They switched Bertrice with the kneazle as collateral,” Harry added.

Malfoy smirked, “Leverage, Potter.” Harry’s gaze lingered on his lips. Realizing the distraction, Harry turned around and focused on a shaggy, purple fur coat.