Hi everyone, I have had this story in my drafts for a long time now. I first went ahead and published my Dramione fanfiction because this story felt more vulnerable in some ways with the creation of an original character. But I figured it was time to put it out into the world. The usual disclaimers about characters aside from Sera.
Please check out my other HP work, His Redemption, for some Draco x Hermione. Or for original work, The Floating Lily (https/www.amazon.co.uk/Floating-Lily-Em-Nevern-ebook/dp/B0DLPW24JN)
Sera had long since accepted that the Ministry of Magic's elevators always smelled of something vaguely metallic, like charmed silver gone sour. She leaned against the far corner, hands tucked in her pockets, trying to ignore the magical crackle of wards in place. Magic had a way of reminding her where she didn't quite fit, of slipping just out of her reach. Today was no different. She could almost feel the wards pulsing, whispering secrets she'd never be privy to. But Sera held her head high, the same way she had in Muggle school when whispers about her "unusual" parents followed her through every hallway.
As the elevator doors parted with a hiss, she stepped into the Muggle Liaison Office, where the air was thick with tension. Negotiating disputes between the Muggle government and the Ministry of Magic was like trying to convince oil and water they belonged together. Today was no exception. Wizards in robes too stiff for their own good traded glares with a handful of suited Muggle officials. Sera included.
Sera slipped through the chaos like a practiced shadow, her heels tapping against polished marble floors. At twenty-eight, she had mastered the art of blending both worlds, evident in her outfit: a tailored black blazer that fit snugly over a high-necked black blouse and a pleated black skirt that swished just above her knees. A delicate silver necklace in the shape of a crescent moon—a subtle nod to her magical roots—rested against her collarbone, while her boots, stylish yet sensible, echoed the chic but practical look often seen in Muggle London. A childhood spent walking the blurred line between both worlds had trained her well, in both fashion and fortitude.
She offered a sharp smile to one of her colleagues who gestured for her input, a middle-aged wizard with deep frown lines and tired eyes. His voice was tense, almost pleading. "Another attack. A woman near Euston Station—she appeared to be a Squib. The Auror office believes it was a witch or wizard that attacked her. The Muggles are reporting it as a knife assault. The British government is demanding we step in, provide resources, anything. They're tired of covering up incidents with flimsy stories."
Sera clenched her jaw. Her squib status was strictly confidential. People at the Ministry of Magic believed she had limited, weak, magical abilities. People at the muggle Ministry believed she was a full fledged witch. The irony was not lost on her.
Attacks on Squibs—people like her—felt personal, though she couldn't afford to let it show. She turned back to her colleague, her expression shifting to one of determination. "I'll speak with the muggles at the British Ministry to ease their worries," she said, meeting his anxious gaze. "But the Ministry of Magic has to understand the pressure the muggle government is under. They need reassurances that their concerns are being taken seriously."
The wizard nodded, brows furrowing. "But how do we convince them? The magical upper echelons can be rigid. They'll want to sweep this under the rug."
Sera straightened her shoulders, her resolve hardening. "Then it's our job to make them see it's not just a matter of image. This isn't just about Squibs; it's about the safety of magical and non-magical people. If either group thinks the other doesn't care, it won't end here. We can't let the divide grow wider."
"The Ministry of Magic might not be willing to cooperate," he replied simply.
Sera shook her head, her confidence unwavering. "Then we'll have to push harder. If they see the ramifications of their inaction, they might just reconsider. I can speak to the Muggle Relations Committee. They need to understand that we're allies in this, not just separate entities. I know how to frame this issue in a way they'll understand."
His expression softened slightly. "You really think you can change their minds?"
Sera offered a faint smile, her spirit igniting with the challenge. "If I can bridge the gap between muggle and magical London every day, I can do this."
With a final nod, she turned away, her resolve solidified. Stubbornness coursed through her veins, a legacy from parents who believed she should rely on her wits alone. She would face this head-on, for herself and for those who needed a voice.
Sera spent the next two hours reviewing the report on the Squib woman - Merope. The document was riddled with redactions, entire sections blacked out. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration; the report's omissions spoke volumes.
The initial findings indicated that the woman had been attacked in an alley near Euston Station late at night, and although the authorities classified it as a simple mugging gone wrong, Sera sensed there was more lurking beneath the surface. Witness statements had been largely suppressed, and the few snippets she could glean described the woman's assailants as "hooded figures" and "unusual shadows." A chill ran down her spine at the thought—unusual shadows—what did that even mean?
The urgency of the situation pressed against her like the weight of the report itself. She noted how the muggle authorities had documented the incident but had been quick to close ranks, avoiding the implications that would inevitably ripple through both communities if the truth were revealed. A lingering suspicion gnawed at her. Something wasn't right.
In the margins, she scribbled notes to herself, trying to piece together a clearer picture. "Redacted details on injuries sustained," she jotted down, underlining the phrase with a scowl. The report glossed over what she assumed were crucial elements of the attack. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was deliberately obscured.
"What are they hiding?" she murmured to herself, her fingers tapping impatiently on the desk. The frustration swelled within her, a rising tide threatening to drown out her resolve.
Needing air, she stood abruptly, her heart racing with the urge to escape the confines of the office. She craved a distraction, something to scrape away the feeling of always being an imposter in a world she'd grown up around but never fully belonged to. With a quick motion, she pulled her coat around her, the worn fabric familiar against her skin, and slipped out.
The narrow, twisted streets of Knockturn Alley had an allure that Sera couldn't quite shake, even as a Squib. There was a pulse to the alley, shadows dancing around corners, the mingling scents of herbs, dusty parchment, and spiced tea. It was dangerous, intoxicating, yet so completely magical that she couldn't help feeling drawn to it. Her feet found their way to a small café wedged between a secondhand apothecary and a curious shop advertising cursed trinkets.
The door creaked open, and warm, spiced air wrapped around her. It was a stark contrast to the cool November breeze outside. Sera made her way to the counter, ordering a steaming cup of strong black tea, and sank into a corner table. The wood was splintered and scarred by years of use. She traced the marks absently, her fingers ghosting over what could've been spell burns.
That's when she felt a pair of eyes on her.
Sera looked up to find a set of dark eyes on her. The stranger had tousled dark hair and an expression that seemed carved from marble. It was as if he'd mastered the art of indifference. Yet there was something sharper in his gaze, something that made Sera's defenses prickle, even as a thrill sparked in her chest.
She looked away quickly. She'd long since known to avoid attention from Wizards, especially the handsome ones.
"Is this seat taken?" His voice was smooth, almost too casual. Sera wanted to say no, wanted to hold onto her solitude, but instead, she nodded. He slid into the chair opposite her, and she kept her spine straight, meeting his cool stare.
"I'm Theodore Nott," he said, tilting his head slightly as if assessing her. "But you may call me, Theo."
Sera took in a sharp breath. Theodore Nott was exactly the kind of wizard she'd learned to avoid—old family name and pureblood roots. His family were known Death Eaters during the war against Voldemort and were infamous for their prejudice against anyone they considered less than.
"Sera," she replied, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach.
He studied her for a moment, an inscrutable expression on his face. She knew he was waiting to her to share her last name but that was a secret she'd keep tucked away for now. If he picked up on her being tightlipped he didn't let it show. "You don't seem like the typical visitor to Alley Cafe," he observed, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Neither do you," she countered, raising an eyebrow. "I would have thought someone like you would prefer the more… glamorous spots in Diagon."
His lips curled into a half-smile. "I prefer the hidden corners. They tend to hold the most interesting stories. What about you?"
Sera shrugged, playing it casual, though the weight of his gaze made her pulse quicken. "Just taking a break from work. The Muggle Liaison Office isn't all that exciting."
Sera half expected him to get up and walk away. Purebloods were known to disagree with the ministry's work with muggles.
"Ah, a government employee then?" he replied, his tone teasing, as if he were testing the waters. "How does that feel, being a bridge between two worlds?"
"Frustrating, sometimes," she admitted, letting her guard down just a fraction. "Especially when neither side seems to fully understand the other."
"Sounds like you have your work cut out for you," he said, his voice dropping slightly, as if he genuinely empathized.
Sera felt a flicker of connection but quickly stifled it, reminding herself to maintain her aloofness. "It's a challenge, but someone has to do it," she responded, refusing to let her vulnerability slip through the cracks.
"The way you speak about your work suggests you care more than most," Theo said, his gaze steady and probing. "It's rare to find someone so invested in bridging that divide. Most wizards just… ignore the Muggle world."
She felt a familiar twinge of pride at his recognition. The pride was short lived as Sera's thoughts flickered to her own family history.
Her parents, despite their love for her, had often seen her as a disappointment, a link in the chain that tarnished their magical line. They had fought for status, yet here she was, tied to the Blackwood family left feeling like a ghost haunting their legacy.
"Maybe they're afraid of what they don't understand," she replied, her tone edged with defiance. "But I think ignorance only breeds more fear. Knowledge is the key to acceptance."
"Quite the philosopher," he said with a playful smirk. "Do you have any grand plans to enlighten the masses?"
"Perhaps I'll start with the Ministry. One bureaucratic headache at a time," she quipped, letting a smile creep onto her face despite her earlier resolve. The warmth of their conversation felt dangerously inviting.
"Good luck with that," he chuckled, leaning back in his chair, clearly amused. "I can only imagine the bureaucratic resistance. But you strike me as someone who doesn't back down easily."
"Stubbornness is a family trait," she said, her heart racing as she recalled her parents' relentless pursuit of their ideals, even when they were ultimately doomed. "It's not always a gift, but it's what keeps me going."
"Sometimes stubbornness is exactly what you need," he said, his tone turning more serious. "Especially in a world that's constantly shifting. So, what's your secret? How do you stay so determined?"
Sera hesitated, aware that sharing too much would risk exposing her vulnerabilities, the truth of her existence. "I suppose it's about knowing who I am," she said carefully, her mind racing. "I've always had to carve my own path. It's the only way to make my voice heard."
"Impressive," he replied, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I can respect someone who forges their own way in a world that expects conformity."
She met his gaze, holding it steady, feeling a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension. "You don't conform?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, intrigued by his perspective.
"Not if I can help it anymore," he replied with a slight smile. "Though it's a challenge, especially with family expectations. My family has… very particular views about how I should live my life."
"Ah, family expectations," she echoed, her voice slightly strained. "A universal truth, I suppose."
The atmosphere between them shifted, a thread of shared understanding weaving through the conversation.
Sera cleared her throat. Theo might not know it, but their exchange danced like chess pieces. Each word carefully chosen, each phrase a step in a game of strategy. Sera was determined not to reveal too much.
Sera cleared her throat, steadying herself against the weight of their conversation. Theo might not know it, but their exchange danced like chess pieces, each word carefully chosen, each phrase a step in a game of strategy. Sera was determined not to reveal too much.
Just as she began to formulate her next thought, a witch rushed by their table. Her arms laden with books and a water cup precariously perched atop a stack. In her haste, she collided with the edge of the table, sending a splash of water cascading over Sera's skirt.
Sera gasped, the cold liquid soaking into the fabric and instantly cooling her skin. "Oh!" she exclaimed.
"Are you going to clean that up?" he asked, his voice edged with an undercurrent of annoyance.
Sera's heart raced. The question hit her like a jolt. Panic gripped her as she fought to maintain her composure. "I—," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't let him know the truth, couldn't let him see her vulnerability.
Sera glanced up, but Theo wasn't looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the woman, who stood frozen in place, eyes wide with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry!" she blurted out, glancing between them. "I didn't mean to—"
Sera's stomach churned as the young witch's mortification hung thick in the air. Just as she opened her mouth to reassure the stranger, Theo cut in. "Perhaps you should be more careful next time."
The witch flinched at his tone, but Sera saw her eyes flicker to the damp patch on Sera's skirt. In a swift movement, the woman raised her wand. "Let me fix that," she said, her voice a mixture of desperation and sincerity.
Sera felt her heart drop as she realized what was about to happen. With a flick of the wand, the water vanished, leaving her skirt dry.
The woman smiled apologetically, her relief evident. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to spill—"
Theo's expression was cold as he regarded the witch. She seemed to cower in response.
"It was an accident," Sera interjected, surprising herself. "We all make mistakes."
The witch's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'll be more careful," she promised, casting one last apologetic glance before scurrying away.
Theo watched the witch retreat, then turned his attention back to Sera. "It's a dangerous place for someone so… naive," he said, his tone laced with an edge of skepticism. "You shouldn't be so quick to defend others, especially in an alley like this. They won't always have your best interests at heart."
Sera bristled slightly at his implication. "I can handle myself, thank you," she replied, her voice firmer than she felt. "I'm not naive. It was an accident, not a targeted attack."
"Right," he said slowly, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "Of course. You're likely a smarter witch than most."
Sera tilted her chin up, "Right." She felt an inexplicable pang of guilt. He assumed she was a witch—because who else would find themselves in Knockturn Alley so comfortably? And she let the assumption stand, just this once.
"I—" she began, her voice faltering slightly as she glanced toward the café's entrance. The lively chatter from inside felt like a distant echo compared to the tumult of her thoughts. "I should go."
"Already?" Theo's brow furrowed slightly, a mix of curiosity and disappointment flickering across his features. "Can I ask how I can contact you?"
She hesitated, the instinct to protect her secret flaring within her. "I… don't know if that's a good idea," she said, keeping her tone light but her heart racing. "I'm busy with work."
He leaned forward slightly, his expression earnest. "I get that. But I'd like to continue our conversation."
Sera felt a rush of warmth at his compliment, but she quickly masked it with a calculated smile. "I'll be around," she said, her voice deliberately vague. "You never know who might show up in a place like this."
He chuckled softly, but she could see the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "Is that your way of saying I should keep an eye out for you?"
"Something like that," she replied, taking a step back. The air felt thick with unspoken possibilities, and she fought against the urge to linger.
"Don't be a stranger, then," he said, a note of challenge in his voice.
"Right," she echoed, the word feeling more like a shield than a farewell. Sera turned abruptly, moving toward the door, her heart pounding as she stepped back into the bustling chaos of Knockturn Alley. Behind her, she could feel Theo's lingering gaze.