That night, a prominent wizarding couple entered a popular London nightclub; a Muggle nightclub.

“Why, in Merlin’s green garden, did you drag me to a Muggle club?” Draco sneered to his fiancée, Pansy.

“Because dear, it’s the hottest club in London to be seen at,” replied Pansy as they entered, waving to a few people.

“I bet they don’t even have firewhiskey,” he grumbled looking over at the bar. The bartender, who was currently getting security to escort a rowdy drunk out of the club, was attractive, for a Muggle; she had bright blond hair and light eyes, a nice body too. If he were anything like his father, he’d bed her and erase her memory by morning. But he wasn’t like his father, he would not cheat on Pansy; he was working very hard to prove that.

Pansy whispered in his ear, “Is there any particular reason you’re staring at the bartender?”

“She looks familiar,” Draco blurted out. It wasn’t a complete lie; she did have some qualities that reminded him of someone – someone that he hasn’t seen in about three years.

“Oh Merlin!” she gasped. “It’s Cole! It’s Kimberly Cole!”

“No it’s not,” he scoffed. Draco glanced at her again, “Merlin’s beard! Go and send an owl to Snape. I’ll try to keep her distracted until you get back.” Pansy nodded in agreement and scurried off to the bathroom; Draco nonchalantly walked over to the bar. The woman walked over and smiled.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She said in a very American accent.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled charmingly. “You look like someone from my school days that a few of my friends and I have been looking for; is your name Kimberly Cole, by any chance?”

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I’m not who you’re thinking of; best of luck finding her though. What can I get for you?”

“Firewhiskey?” He replied, looking around for Pansy. He inwardly cursed himself for not catching the mistake in time.

“Is that a new brand? Or an exotic one?” She tilted her head to the side. Why does that sound so familiar? She thought.

“It’s a very rare whiskey,” he replied. “How about a beer?”

“What kind do you like? We have Guinness, some American imports that are really just colored water, Killian,” she trailed off.

“I’ll have a Guinness.”

“Draft or bottle?”

“Draft,” he replied, glancing around again. He wanted to make sure that Muggles weren’t watching. She turned her back to get his drink as he attempted to place a tracking spell on her. A drunken Muggle bumped into him and Draco hastily put his wand away.

“Do you mind if I ask where you are from?” He tried to sound casual.

“Not at all, I get asked that question all the time. I’m from the good ol’ United States of America, if it wasn’t obvious by the accent. I hale from the great state of Pennsylvania and from the fantastic city of Philadelphia.”

“So do you like the Philadelphia Eagles then?”

Her face showed her pleasant surprise. “You know your American football teams, I’m impressed. No I don’t; I adore the Cowboys.”

“The Dallas Cowboys?” Draco sounded amused. “They aren’t a bad team. My friend from school, however, would have to disagree on you. She loves the Eagles.”

The bartender laughed, “Well, she and I would have to fight it out.”

“Draco Malfoy,” he extended his hand.

“Elizabeth Bernard,” she shook it as Pansy started to make her way over. “I’m sorry, I do have to go. I wish you the best of luck finding your friend, again.” She disappeared into the crowd before Draco could get his wand out again.

“Any luck placing a tracking charm on her?” Pansy asked, sitting down. Draco took a sip of his beer and shook his head. “Maybe, as our dear friend Cole would say, a ‘miracle will happen’.”

 

Elizabeth Bernard entered the apartment that she shared with her fiancé. He was working another late shift at his office, so Elizabeth was alone. She preferred to be alone right now; her mind was racing. This was the third person she thought looked extremely familiar. However, he was the first one to approach her. She shook her head and went into her closet. Liz donned her favorite Cowboys’ jersey and a pair of booty shorts. She glanced around again before digging deeper into her closet. In the very back, there was an unopened shoebox that she had kept with her for the longest time, since the start of her trip of self-discovery, starting three years ago. She apparently wrote all over it not to open until her trip was finished, but she couldn’t wait any longer. She didn’t remember what was in the stupid box anyway; what was the difference if she opened it now or when she discovered her “true” self, whatever that means. She ripped oven the box and discovered an oddly shaped piece of wood. That was it. How anticlimactic, she thought as she gingerly lifted it out of the box. She wrapped her right hand around the handle and it shot off red sparks as a warm feeling spread from her hand down her arm. She screamed, shoved the object back into the box, and the box back into the closet. Liz decided it was a very long night; that she was hallucinating; and she was going to go to bed now. Meanwhile, at the Ministry of Magic’s Auror Department, Ronald Weasley ran into Harry Potter’s office with a piece of parchment in his hand.

“You are bloody well not going to believe what the Improper Use of Magic office just sent me,” he walked in slamming the paper onto Harry’s desk. “We have to tell Neville.”

Harry looked at his friend with shock at the intrusion and read the paper. “No bloody way,” he muttered, jumping out of his seat and running out of his office with his best mate on his heels.