分卷阅读24（1 / 2）

The kneazle put its paws on Luna’s knee and stared up at her.

“I’m sure he knew you didn’t hate him,” Luna pet Bertie’s head. “We always say things we don’t mean when we’re angry,” she looked up at Pansy, “or scared.”

Luna’s words hit Pansy like a gust of painful forgiveness, and the floodgates that had been holding back all her shame and guilt since the end of the War opened. She broke down, and it was in front of Loony Lovegood and the soul of her goddaughter trapped in a kneazle, for Salazar’s sake. The thought of it made her laugh for a brief moment between the tears and the sobs. It was freeing. Pansy realized she’d been carrying too much of the past inside her. It had been weighing her down, distracting her from the things that really mattered. Clarity felt like flying.

By the time she’d collected herself, she’d figured out how they were going to get Bertrice back in her own body. Never do what they expect. It was her own advice, and she planned on following it.

“Feel better?” Luna finally asked. She’d curled up on the sofa with one of Longbottom’s books, Bertie snuggled up in her lap.

Pansy wiped her face. “Yes,” she nodded. “And I’ve had a thought. What’s the best way to catch Tinsel Gnats?”

Draco convinced Harry to apparate with him to Marwan Zivantus’ home in the outskirts of Edinburgh. He realized he’d started thinking of him as just Harry, and supposed it might be a symptom of the time travel. Or maybe a symptom of having him pressed close. Or maybe— it was “Draco.”

“Potter,” Draco distracted himself. “When are you going to take off that ridiculous coat?”

The other man furrowed his brow, “I thought you said purple was my color.”

Draco smiled, and then Potter smiled too. Good, he thought. It was back to Potter. “I didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“Your concern warms my heart,” Potter said as they walked toward the large gothic home down the private, warded lane. “Malfoy,” Potter pointed to the dark glasses on Draco’s face, “what’s with the sunglasses?”

“It’s part of my disguise.” Draco was suddenly awash with a flurry of different emotions, but most of all, he felt guilty for not telling Potter things which might be important. Draco didn’t know how to explain the curse, or how it had suddenly magnified tenfold since they’d gone back in time. Instead of linear threads, they extended outwards in all directions, connecting the two of them to countless people and places across their entire lifespans.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“So?” Draco questioned. The sunglasses helped alleviate the sight of the threads when they went bright. Specifically, the threads between them, and a few of the threads he was following to Marwan’s house. “That’s not stopping you from parading about in Celestina Warbeck’s rejected wardrobe.”

“Nevermind, Malfoy. If you can see, by all means, leave them on.”

“Of course I can see!”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t see, I was just implying you don’t need a disguise, especially since Zivantus already knows who you are.”

A cool, smooth voice said from behind them, “Does he, though?”

“Helga, Salazar, Rowena, and Godric!” Draco jumped so high he thought for a moment he’d accidentally activated the Timepiece. When he landed and whirled around, Marwan Zivantus stared back at him, deep honey eyes and a tremendous scowl visible even in the lamp lit lane and with Draco’s sunglasses. The man’s wand was raised and he had a Capture- All Net in his other hand. “Marwan—”

“Have we met?” he interrupted.