Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling.

Prologue

(December 31, 2026)

The Italian man tugged at the unfamiliar serving robes, discreetly surveying Malfoy Enterprises' New Year's Eve party. Extravagant decorations, expensive alcohol, and live music from Wizarding Britain's hottest band of the moment: the entire scene reeked of privilege—not that the dark-haired wizard was surprised. If Fazzino himself had access to Scorpius Malfoy's influence and fortune, he'd be spending it in quite a similar fashion.

Raphael Fazzino busied himself with tidying up the desserts table (his assigned station of the night) while surreptitiously observing the wizard in question. As CEO of the multi-national technology empire, Malfoy would be integral to their plans. His desire to cooperate mattered not; Fazzino could be very persuasive.

An elderly witch was speaking at a nearby table. "Has Miss Weasley spoken to you about donating to—"

"You mean Malfoy's girl? Don't bring that up, Mother. She spent ages talking about it earlier. As if I care! Thank Merlin I don't have the bleeding heart of a Weasley," snapped the table's other occupant.

"Oh hush, Hilda! Are you really that cruel? Those poor Italians. I can't believe the Prophet hasn't reported any of it! Not the poverty, not the unemployment rates—nothing!" She went quiet for a moment. "You don't think the Italian Ministry will actually go bankrupt, do you?"

No. He wouldn't allow that to happen, thought Fazzino as a dull pain burned through his uniform pocket. Annoyed, he gritted his teeth, completely caught off guard. Fazzino knew that the searing sensation could only be caused by the token, but he was surprised that they would contact him during a mission. Was he wanted back at headquarters already?

"Sir, are you all right?"

Fazzino's head snapped up, startled. Staring up at the petite redhead, he only just realized that he'd been clutching his side quite forcefully. He cleared his throat and plastered on a smile. Rose Weasley was one of the few British witches who gave a damn about his country. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hilda, red-faced, dragging her mother away from them.

Fazzino nodded to Rose. "Yes, thank you, I'm fine." His English accent was flawless. "Just a childhood injury. The Healers were never able to completely fix it."

"Oh—I'm sorry to hear that. Do you need anything? Some ice, perhaps?" She grinned. "Or maybe some Firewhiskey?"

Fazzino smiled, hiding his surprise. "I really am fine, Miss."

"Well, if you're sure..." She extended a hand. "I'm Rose."

Fazzino shook her hand. "Rob Samuels. This is a great party you've hosted, Miss."

Her lips curved as if at an inside joke. "Oh, believe me, my boyfriend is the far better host. He's a natural at this sort of thing. I'm really only here for the food," she said, winking.

Fazzino chuckled, and as Rose examined the vast assortment of sorbets, casually said, "Honeydew's been a popular one. Although, if you're feeling adventurous, I recommend the persimmon sorbet. I think you'd like it. You seem to enjoy dessert much more than Mr. Malfoy does." The Italian repressed a scowl. He hadn't been able to get close to Malfoy all night.

Rose laughed. "Oh no, you've been misled, Rob! Scor's even worse than I am when it comes to dessert! I'm surprised he hasn't dropped by yet. He's probably just..." She scanned the room, her eyes lighting up after mere moments. "Oh, he's talking to Minister Turner," she said, her voice slightly duller.

This was old news to Fazzino, but he made a show of following Rose's gaze. The two men were seated at a table in the far corner of the room, the blond looking perfectly at ease as he conversed with the British Minister. Fazzino was impressed; the only time he would ever want to speak with Otto Turner was if Unforgivable curses were involved.

Rose arched an eyebrow as Turner suddenly burst into guffaws, but returned her attention to the dessert spread. "There are actually lots of interesting people here, Rob. For instance—Oh Merlin!"

The redhead looked horrified, and Fazzino immediately began to scope out the situation. He relaxed at the sight of a garishly dressed woman engaging in a sort of mating ritual with her paunchy companion, but even he could admit the sight was a bit unnerving.

"That shouldn't be legal. Oh, the risks of throwing a party," Rose lamented.

Fazzino couldn't agree more.

Rose sighed. "So tell me, Rob, are you sure that childhood injury of yours isn't still being a pain?"

"Nothing that will impede my ability to work, Miss." A slight lie—he still felt the token's aftershocks.

Rose shook her head and grinned, her eyes sparkling with a plan. "Well, I think you should get some rest. You look like you could use the night off—especially since it's New Year's Eve."

"But this is my job…"

"Don't worry." Her smile was warm. "I'm sure our guests will be fine without you. I'll take care of any problems."

He nodded slowly. He was certain she meant speaking to that grouchy supervisor he'd met earlier. No one who worked for Malfoy Enterprises would dare question Rose Weasley, so his cover would be safe. It really was the perfect getaway opportunity.

And yet he couldn't ignore the slight guilt that was forming in his stomach. Miss Weasley wouldn't be quite so kind to him if she knew their true plans...

He shook himself mentally. This was for the greater good. They simply had too few other allies, and even less time.

Fazzino smiled. "Thank you, Rose. Have a happy new year." While he knew the sentiment would likely ring false for the redhead, he was confident his fellow Italiani would enjoy a very happy new year. He'd make sure of it.


A/N: Hi there. Thank you for reading and I hope you're at least intrigued enough to leave me a review about what you think! I know this doesn't make much sense right now, but it will soon (I hope)!