the girl who lost it all [d.m]

sixty one: officium

Compared to the other houses he'd visited, it was shabby and uninteresting. Like where someone who wanted to keep out of sight would stay.

He pushed open the rickety gate and it made a loud creak as he stepped through, casting one last glance at the empty street behind him.

Orion would be on the other side of Wiltshire, doing his own rounds with the addresses he'd jotted down. But seeing as Draco hadn't received a Patronus yet, he assumed his friend had had no luck either.

His knock on the door echoed within the house—as if it were small enough for the sound to bounce off all the walls. Draco narrowed his eyes and took a step back, squinting against the sun as he took a look at the top story. The curtains were pulled over the window.

He knocked again. No answer. Drawing his wand, he cast a Detection Charm, not really expecting it to work. They were easy to counter and block if the proper wards were placed.

As he suspected, it came back blank. He wouldn't be able to tell if someone was inside unless he went in.

The door was easy to crack open, the lock weak and it took just a shove of his shoulder for it to snap. It swung open, revealing a dark hallway, bare and empty except for a lone lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

Immediately, every single one of Draco's senses went on alert. He kept his wand drawn and at his side as he took cautious steps further in, eyes skating over the derelict stairs ahead of him, the peeling grey wallpaper.

The floorboards creaked underneath his feet and he caught a rat darting across the hallway, disappearing into a small hole in the wall.

There was a scuffle from behind him—barely audible—but he whirled on instinct, finding nothing behind him. Another shuffle of footsteps and he was forced to swivel back around to face the stairs.

There was definitely someone in here.

A couple steps forward and Draco was beginning to think he'd imagined the sounds. There didn't seem to be any sign of life in here—apart from the rats.

But a nagging feeling in his stomach didn't let him leave. If Freya was here and he left, he'd never forgive himself. This was the one thing he could do for Elara—and he intended on carrying it out to the last degree.

He vaguely wondered if Orion had had any luck. Maybe he'd already found Freya. Maybe his Patronus was on the way to Draco right now—

He didn't realise there was a knife pressed to his throat until he felt a thin trickle of blood. Didn't realise there was a wand jabbed into his side until his assailant dug it in deeper.

Yeah. There was definitely someone in the house.

"Who are you?" It was a hiss from behind him—definitely female.

It was difficult to speak around the knife pressed to his Adam's Apple but he managed. "I'm sure you already know."

Whoever his attacker was, she was not in a good mood. He could feel her hand tensing, could feel her a second away from dragging her hand across his throat and slitting it.

So he said, his tone calm, "Elara sends her regards."

He heard her gasp and felt her muscles slacken in shock—but he didn't move an inch. She wouldn't attack him now.

"What did you say?" She sounded breathless, her grip on the knife loosening.

"Your sister," he said without missing a beat, still unable to see her, "sends her regards."

The knife fell away. Clattered to the ground. The wand receded from his side—but when he turned, she still had it pointed at him.

Freya Jacobs hadn't changed. Her silky straight golden hair was free around her shoulders, brushing her hip and her eyes were that warm caramel brown—although they'd hardened. Her skin was as tan as Elara's—but she had no freckles, not even a beauty spot on her face.