Umbras ? Harry Potter

August 16, 1994 • Quidditch World Cup

"Are you changed?" Alaric's voice came from just outside the tent walls of Ciara's room.

Ciara had just slipped out of her green dress and into a pair of gray sweatpants and a mint green tank top. "Yes," she said, unsure why he was asking so late at night.

"Draco will be coming into the tent," he said as she opened the door to her room. "Lucius and I have something to take care of before bed."

"Um... okay," Ciara began, but before she could form a proper response, her father had already stepped out of the tent. A moment later, the Malfoys entered.

"Remember—one o'clock," Lucius said to Draco before giving him a firm push into the tent. Then, without another word, he and Ciara's father hurried off, leaving Draco standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Ciara frowned. "What was that all about?" she asked, hoping Draco had a better idea than she did.

"No clue," Draco said, stepping further into the tent. "But it can't be good. My father told me to make sure I head to the woods at one in the morning."

"Well, that's not for another forty-five minutes!" Ciara said, dropping onto the couch with a sigh.

Noticing Draco shifting uncertainly, Ciara gestured toward the sofa in their makeshift living room, silently inviting him to sit.

"Any idea why they want us hiding in the forest?" Ciara asked, raising a brow at the Slytherin boy.

Draco hesitated. "I... do."

"Well, spit it out!" she pressed, watching as he fidgeted with the rings on his fingers.

He exhaled sharply. "I've been overhearing hushed conversations at the Manor all summer. My father's had meetings—lots of them—with suspected Death Eaters from the war..."

"What?" Ciara said, shocked. "But why would my father be involved?"

Draco gave her a knowing look, knowing all too well how difficult it is to accept that their parents aren't who they wish them to be.

"It was hard for me at first, too," he began, but she cut him off.

"It's not hard for me, because my father would never do that!" she snapped, her frustration growing with each word. "He would never harm people just because he thinks he's better!"

After her outburst, Ciara paused, reflecting on her words. He would hurt people just because he thinks he's better. He'd done it to her just over six months ago.

The silence stretched between them for a while before Ciara finally looked up at Draco.

"Why would they?" she asked, her voice breaking.

Draco opened an arm for her, a silent offer of comfort, letting her know without words that he was there. They waited like that for around thirty minutes before Draco looked at his watch.

"We better start getting ready to leave," he said, gently shifting her off his arm. Part of him didn't want her to go—this was probably the closest they'd ever been. But he also knew they couldn't get caught up in whatever their fathers had planned.

Ciara slipped on a black jumper she had in her trunk and made her way back to the main area of the tent.

"Ready?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty, as she wasn't sure if she was ready herself.

They began their small trek toward the forest, the silence between them stretching out like a shadow that loomed over everything. Neither of them spoke—words seemed unnecessary. Their steps carried them deeper into the trees, where everything around them seemed to blend into shadows.