"Draco," Johns called over his shoulder, and Draco tugged his arm away from Hermione, and rapped his wand on top of his head. He made his way to the Auror’s side, happily not falling over any of the invisible others and waited with his face impassive, mind and gut inwardly churning. Who the fuck was this contact supposed to be? And where were they? Was it a trap? Draco fidgeted as they waited in silence, feeling sick with nerves. And then a shortish figure in a heavy, hooded cloak melted out of the deepening shadows.