The Pact

A good few weeks pass by mostly uneventfully. My classes aren’t too difficult so that’s good for me, and I haven’t had any major run ins with those annoying slytherin boys. And, on the bright side, Neville has made himself a part of our friend group, and I met Luna last week. She’s lovely, and she hangs out with us occasionally as well.

The only major development is when I was wandering the corridors a few nights ago, I came across this huge ornate door. I’d never noticed it before, so I poked my head inside. And to my complete chagrin, it was a ballet studio! No one told me Hogwarts had one, so I was ecstatic to discover it. The room is large, the whole back wall a mirror with a barre, and leotards, tights, pointe shoes, and everything else I could possibly need all lined against one of the side walls. I’ve been coming to the ballet studio nightly since I found it, and it’s so nice to have time to just decompress and dance.

All that aside though, I have a major paper due Monday for muggle studies, so I got up this morning and wandered out to the library. Thank Merlin for weekends. I didn’t have time to get this done over the week.

I walk in and sit down in the library next to Hannah. The library is so nice, I’ve been here as much as possible. I like that it’s busy enough to not be silent, but not loud enough to be distracting. We work on our respective homework assignments, gossiping away on our little break intervals. During one of those breaks, however, I hear someone calling our attention.

“Hey, y/n! Hannah!” Neville calls out to us. I shoot him a big smile and wave him over.

“Hey, Nev. What’s up? How’s your day been?” I ask.

“Just fine, thanks. Hey, y/n, I wanted to introduce you to my mates!” He gestures to the two boys behind him, the redhead and the brunette with glasses he’d pointed out to me when we met.

The boys shoot me wide grins almost in sync with each other. I can tell they’re close.

“Hi! I’m-” I start, before the redhead cuts me off by saying, “Y/n Lavigné, right?” I nod. “Nice to meet you! I’m Ron Weasley. This is Harry.”

Ron points to Harry, who’s standing awkwardly to the side. I chuckle softly before tilting my head. “Nice to meet you both. Oh, wait. Harry? As in, like, Harry Potter?” I ask, recognition dawning in my eyes.

The boys look at each other with a sigh, and Harry replies, “Yeah, that’s me. I see you know who I am already?”

“Of course I do!” I reply, a fondness in my tone. “You’re the boy who saved Fleur’s sister last year in the games, right? I heard all about you from the older students at Beauxbatons.”

He gives me a sort of confused look, before smiling, seeming more relaxed. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Honestly, I can’t thank you enough. Gabrielle is so sweet, it would have just broken my heart if something happened to her. And congratulations on winning, by the way.”

He still seems caught off guard and a somber look fills his eyes. Did I say something wrong? But he tightens his mouth into a smile, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Thanks. What are you working on?”

Grateful for the change in subject, I hand over my parchment to him. “Just muggle studies. It’s an easy A, since I had so many muggleborn friends at my old school.”

“Easy A for me, too. I was raised by muggles,” Harry adds. I want to question him on why, but I get the sense that he doesn’t particularly want to talk about it, so I bite my tongue.

“Nice. Mind giving it a once over for me, then?” I ask him, diffusing the tension. He just smiles and takes a seat next to me, Neville and Ron plopping down near Hannah. After a minute or two, he gives it back.

“Looks pretty dead on to me.” He smiles, running a hand through his hair. His fingers brush past a scar on his forehead, which is actually pretty neat, but I don’t bring it up. I just give him a smile and a nod before tucking my parchment away into my bag.

“Say, girls. What are you up to tonight?” Ron asks, a goofy grin on his face.

“I don’t think we have any plans. Why?” Hannah asks.

“Oh, right!” Neville exclaims, pressing a palm to his forehead. “Totally forgot that’s why I came over here. There’s a party in our dorm tonight, and we wanted to know if you guys wanted to come.”

Hannah and I exchange a quick glance and with a shrug, I say, “Sure! Sounds like fun.”

“Wicked!” Ron says, fist bumping Neville. I chuckle and look over at Harry. He isn’t laughing with the rest of us, and he has this sullen look on his face. I want to ask what’s wrong but I don’t want to put him on the spot.

I decide to bite my tongue, but I can’t completely stop myself from trying to help. 

“Do you like chocolate, Harry?” I ask quietly, letting the others carry on with their conversation.

“Uh… yeah, I do. Why?” He looks at me with pure confusion in his eyes.

I pull some mini muggle candy bars out of my bag, holding them out to him. “Take some. Every time I go home I smuggle some back with me. My old friends got me started on them and now I’m addicted.” 

He laughs lightly and regards me curiously, and I chuckle right alongside him. He takes three, popping one into his mouth and shoving the others into his pockets.

”Thanks,” he says with a warm smile, his deep green eyes lighting up.

”Any time, Harry.”

~

I look in the mirror, finishing my hair. It hangs in loose curls around my face, half up half down, held with a crescent moon shaped claw clip. I think I look nice enough. A lacy top, a flowy skirt, and some Mary Jane’s. Neville said it was more of a casual kind of party, so I don’t want to overdress.

“You look lovely!” Hannah tells me, clapping her hands in excitement.

“And you look stunning as ever,” I reply with a wide smile. She has on an outfit similar to mine, although she opted for some cute shorts instead of a skirt. “Ready to go?”

“Hell yeah!” Hannah replies, linking our arms together.

We walk through the halls of the school, staying quiet so we don’t grab any teacher’s attention. Eventually Hannah pulls me down a corridor and up a flight of stairs, in front of a large portrait. Conveniently enough, Neville was waiting for us just outside to let us in.

“Hey! Glad you could make it.” He turns around to the portrait, saying “Fortuna Major,” and it (she?) opens up, leading into the Gryffindor common room. My eyes go wide.

There’s loud music playing, with dozens of other students milling about, chatting and dancing. In one corner some girls are playing exploding snap, next to a couple boys playing chess. I see Harry and Ron near the fireplace laughing and taking to a girl with frizzy hair and a charming smile. Hermione, I assume. Their best friend Neville mentioned.

“Well, go make some friends Y/n! I’ll keep an eye on Hannah,” Neville says cheerfully, gently pushing me into the mix of the party. I look at Hannah who’s already transfixed on Neville’s smile (that girl has it bad) and make my way over to Harry and Ron.

“Hiya,” I say with a head tilt, waving at Ron.

“Y/n! You made it! Want a drink?” Ron asks, pointing to a table nearby. I shake my head no, offering him a smile before turning to Harry and their friend.

“Oh, right. Y/n, this is Hermione,” Harry says, gesturing to her with his head.

“I knew you had to be Hermione! It’s awesome to finally meet you. Nev and Hannah told me all about you,” I say with a toothy grin. Hermione looks slightly surprised before breaking into a smile. “I can only imagine what they have to say about me,” she replies with a chuckle.

“Just that you’re basically a genius and probably the smartest and most talented witch in the school. You know, no big deal,” I muse, shrugging my shoulders playfully. “Oh! And I heard you’re a big reader. What’s your favorite genre?”

“I mostly read non-fiction and course books. I like to keep my mind sharp. But I don’t mind a fairytale or two,” she grins, nervously playing with her hands.

“No wonder you’re so smart. I prefer romance novels myself, but my favorite are dystopian novels.”

“Solid choice,” she chuckles, sitting down on the couch. “Would you like to sit? Ron and Harry have told me about you, but I’d like to get to know you for myself if you don’t mind.”

“I’d love to!” I say excitedly, plopping down next to her.

The night wears on and Hermione and I get lost in conversation, talking about professors, courses, S.P.E.W., politics, boys, you name it, we’re rambling about it. We bounce off of each other, and I feel like our energies just match.

“I really like you, Hermione. You’re a spitfire!” I say with a laugh, criss-crossing my legs.

Hermione smiles warmly. “And you’re quite the firecracker yourself. I can see why Harry and Ron like you so much.”

I grin. “I think they’ll come to be good friends of mine. At least, I hope so. I’d be lucky to have them.”

“You would,” she agrees. “Though they can be a bit… much sometimes.”

I laugh. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for example, Ron nearly set his eyebrows on fire in Potions the other day. I’ve never seen Snape look so close to laughing.”

I shake my head fondly. “To be fair, I heard Harry isn’t much better when it comes to staying out of trouble.”

“Believe me, he’s not. He can be really sarcastic and blunt, even with our professors. I’m pretty sure he told Snape that he had a big nose and needed to keep it out of his business once.”

We both laugh, and a comfortable silence settles between us. I feel like I’ve known her forever.

“Thank you for this,” I say softly. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to who just… gets it.”

She nods, her eyes kind. “It’s nice for me, too. Especially being surrounded by boys all the time. We’ll look out for each other, okay?”

“Deal.” I smile, getting a bit closer to her.

I’m not sure how long we stay there, talking about everything and nothing all at once. All I know is that it keeps me so thoroughly entertained I nearly forget all the stress I’ve been under.

Eventually, though, I excuse myself to grab a drink. I walk over to the table to pour myself some punch but get pulled out to the dance floor by a tipsy Ginny Weasley, Ron’s little sister.

“Don’t tell me the French don’t dance!” she teases, tugging my arm. I shake my head with a laugh and give in, knocking back three shots in the span of about fifteen minutes. She looks impressed every time with my lack of facial expressions- I’ve had enough bitter tasting potions to give me that leg up- and we jump around to the music blasting through the common room.

I can tell she’s related to Ron, not only because of their distinctive features but her personality as well. She’s sweet and touchy and honestly just really fun, flailing about as if no one else is around. If I were the sorting hat, I may have sorted both her and Ron into Hufflepuff, but that’s just me.

At some point, tipsy and warm and a little dizzy, I start to feel my heart race.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to Ginny before slipping out to the corridor, sitting down on the cold stone floor of the castle.

My heart beats faster and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears as breathing gets more difficult. It’s okay, this has happened before. Its just anxiety. Just breathe.

I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. I’m shaking like a leaf, but I keep telling myself to breathe, just breathe, I’m safe and everything is okay. It’s all in my head.

My heart is beating even faster now, and I’m convinced it’ll beat right out of my chest. I take in a deep breath, but somehow it feels like I didn’t get any air in my lungs at all. I can hear my own shaky breaths now, and my eyes go hot, tears threatening to fall.

What was it I’m supposed to do? The grounding thing. Using my senses. 5 things I can see: my shoes, the floor, my ring, a portrait, a door. 4 things I can touch: my hair, my necklace, the ground, my skirt. 3 things I hear? My breathing, portraits gossiping, a door opening-

“Y/n! What are you… are you okay?”

I look to the side and see a pair of jeans standing next to me. Whose voice is that? I look up and-

“Harry! I’m… I—” I cut myself off, well the catch in my throat does, and I look up at him completely panicked. He reflects it right back to me, looking around frantically as if begging for someone to turn the corner and handle this for him.

“I think I’m having— like a panic attack— you know?” I say desperately, my words coming out choked between sobs and ragged breaths. “It’s been so long— since I’ve had one— I can’t think— I don’t remember how to— what I’m supposed to do—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts, still looking a bit frantic but a little less so. He sinks down next to me and faces me, putting a hand on my knee. “I get them too. Just try to breathe. Like me,” he says softly, taking a long inhale, pausing, and exhaling twice as long, exaggerating each breath.

I try to mimic him as best I can, even though I still feel like I’m not getting any air when I take a breath in. He never breaks eye contact with me, and my gaze flits between both of his eyes rapidly, the panic really setting in.

“It’s not working!” I cry, exasperated, worry flooding my features. I’m suddenly all too aware of the position my body is in, how warm I am, the cold sweat plastered to every inch of my skin. Am I dying? Is my body giving up on me? Bloody hell, I’m going to die, or pass out, and why is the air so thick? Why is the hall so bright? It’s so hot in here, or maybe it’s just me. It must be just me because I’m dying, I’m certain of it.

“Open your mouth,” Harry says gently, squeezing my knee and pulling something out of his pocket.

“What?” I ask, my body trembling.

“Just trust me. Open your mouth.”

I give him a confused, panicked look before opening my mouth. He pours the contents of a small vial down my throat, and I swallow it with a grimace. Merlin, it’s really warm. Worse than firewhiskey.

Suddenly, the pressure in my head starts to dissipate, the weight on my chest starts to lift, and I can take a few sharp, desperate breaths in. I’m still crying, still shaking, but the panic is… gone.

“Calming draught?” I question him, my voice still shaky and broken.

“I keep it on me for emergencies. This definitely seemed like one,” he replies softly, letting go of my knee and closing the empty vial before vanishing it. “I don’t know how else to help. I’m not great about talking things through, especially… feelings. But I can sit with you, if you’d like,” he offers, his intensely green eyes studying my face.

I nod, grateful for the presence of someone else. It makes me feel less alone, less crazy, and it reminds me of what’s real and what isn’t. He nods back, smiles warmly, and leans against the wall next to me.

We sit in silence for what could’ve been minutes or hours, I’m not quite sure. Time doesn’t feel real when you’re coming down from an absolute adrenaline rush. Slowly, painfully slowly, I stop crying. Then my breathing evens out, then my heart rate. I’m left with a killer headache and a slight shake in my hands, and I feel gross from sweating so much.

Mostly, though, I’m just tired.

Every time I have a panic attack, it absolutely wipes all the energy out of me. It leaves me feeling half dead, almost like a hangover without the nausea. It’s not pleasant, at all, and all I can manage to do is readjust my position. I put my legs down, propping my elbows onto my knees, before sinking my face into my hands.

“Did something happen?” Harry’s voice is clearer now, and everything stops feeling muffled.

“I don’t think so. Just comes out of nowhere sometimes.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprises me, just a little. I turn my head to look at him, my cheek resting on my hand. “So… you get them too? Anxiety attacks?”

Harry runs a hand through his hair- a nervous habit I’ve picked up on- then clears his throat. His eyes are stormy, and I see my reflection in them. “Erm… sort of. I get panic attacks, but ‘Mione says most of mine are from PTSD triggers.” The last words fall out of his mouth a bit clumsily, as if he had only just learned what they meant. I look at him solemnly, and he knows what I want to ask, but I don’t have to.

“A lot has happened to me. A lot of bad things have happened around me, too,” he says quietly, almost like a prayer. “How much have you heard about… me and my friends?”

“Enough,” I say softly, not wanting to pry but perfectly willing to let him vent.

It’s true, my newfound friends have done a lot of filling in the gaps for me the last few hours. News about some evil wizard overlord hadn’t yet reached France—or at least, hadn’t reached me—before I transferred, so I was completely in the dark. Hannah, Diana and Alice sat down with me while we got ready and told me about Harry’s background, his parent's death, and his adventures with his friends to save the Wizarding world from a man who tried to kill him as a baby. It broke my heart, and it still does. So much weight must be on his shoulders, so much guilt and stress all the time.

How wonderfully terrifying it must be, to be “the boy who lived,” wondering every day when you’ll die.

“Then I’m sure you can figure out why-” he says regretfully, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, “-I am the way I am.”

“I can only imagine. I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough go of things,” I say softly, rolling my neck and stretching it side to side. “But for the record, all of the things you’ve done… you’re really brave.”

“I think it’s a Gryffindor thing,” he replies, trying to brush off the compliment.

“No, it’s just a you thing.” I laugh lightly, and he gives me a small smile. “Listen, I know we’re not particularly close or anything, but if you ever need to talk to someone about everything, I’m happy to listen. I know sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger than people who already know you.”

He turns to look at me with consideration. After a moment, one side of his mouth quirks up into a small smile. “Thanks. That’s… very kind of you.”

“Maybe it’s a Hufflepuff thing.”

He chuckles lightly before pushing himself up off the floor. “You’re funny.” He offers me his hand and I take it, pulling myself to my feet. “I’ll get Hannah for you. I’m sure you’re ready to lie down.”

I smile at him gratefully, then brush myself off. “Thanks. I’m drained.”

He steps inside the common room, and I stretch my arms above my head, yawning. After a few minutes, Hannah rushes out, enveloping me in a hug.

“Y/n! Are you okay? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I’m okay, Han. I didn’t get anyone, Harry just kind of stumbled across me on accident. I thought I could handle it…” I reply, talking into her hair, slightly relieved at the deep pressure from her squeezing me so tightly.

“Well, you don’t have to handle things by yourself. That’s the whole point of having friends,” she says gently, pulling back to look at me. “I’ve got your back.”

“I know.”

She gives my shoulders a squeeze before taking my hand, leading me back to the Hufflepuff dorms. She can tell I’m not up to talking, so she rambles on about the party, how fun it was, and how Neville touched her hand, which must mean something, right? And apparently Hermione is taking a liking to me, which is unusual for her.

I just listen, thankful that I’m not in complete silence. The last thing I want is to be left alone to my thoughts just about now.

When we get back to the dorms, I’m too tired to shower so I opt for a quick cleaning charm instead. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough for now. I slip into some shorts and a tank top and crawl into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.