The Pact

I find myself once again staring at the door to Malfoy Manor, only this time it’s slightly earlier in the day. The sunlight is clinging to the walls of the manor, golden hour making it much less intimidating.  I take a breath as my father knocks on the door.

Lucius opens it just like last time, and he beckons for us to come inside after giving us a satisfied nod.

“Happy to see you, Lucius. We have much to discuss,” my mother says, her tone measured and even. “Of course Castor and Y/n are here with me as well, as you requested.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Malfoy,” I chime in, desperate to please my mother with my best behavior this time around.

“Of course, Ms. Lavigné. It was lovely to have you last time. Narcissa was rather pleased with your table manners.” Lucius gives me a nod and starts walking to another room. We follow him as the conversation progresses.

“That’s very kind. I’ll have to thank her,” I reply, walking with my hands folded in front of me.

My mother glances over at me, looking satisfied. I haven’t asked any questions today for fear of upsetting her, I just showed up at home looking put together and waited for my father to spell us over here. Her demeanor is still guarded, but not towards me. She regards Lucius carefully, as if she’s walking on eggshells to impress him.

“Well, here she is,” Lucius says, opening the door to their sitting room. Narcissa perks up, a subtle smile settling on her face when she sees us. Draco, on the other hand, keeps a blank expression. Something flickers in his eyes, but I can’t make out what it is.

“Castor, Grace, Y/n. Welcome back to the manor,” Narcissa says softly, making her way over to us to shake my father’s hand and give me and my mother air kisses.

“Thank you, it’s lovely to see you all,” my father grins, nodding curtly.

“Pleasure as always, Narcissa,” my mother chimes in, handing her coat to the house elf who just popped in. I hand him mine as well.

“Thank you, Dobby,” I say quietly, giving the little house elf a smile. He smiles back before snapping himself out of the room.

Narcissa guides us to the plush chairs in the sitting room, the quiet hum of the crackling fireplace filling the space. The atmosphere feels thick, heavy with unspoken words and carefully masked intentions. I sit on the edge of my seat, hands folded tightly in my lap, eyes flicking between my parents and the Malfoy’s.

My parents exchange subtle glances with Lucius, as if communicating in some coded language only they understand. My mother’s eyes are sharper than usual, her posture rigid, every word she speaks carefully measured. I know she expects the same from me.

“Would you care for tea?” Narcissa offers, her voice calm, but there’s something beneath it- a carefully maintained facade.

“Yes, thank you,” my mother replies, but her attention isn’t on the tea. She keeps glancing at Lucius, waiting for something. There’s an air of anticipation, a coiled tension that makes the room feel smaller than it is.

I chance a glance at Draco. He’s sitting beside his mother, shoulders stiff, gaze fixed on the flickering flames. His expression is blank, but I can tell he senses it too—the heaviness in the air, the quiet expectation that something more is coming.

Lucius finally breaks the silence, his voice smooth as silk. “I appreciate you all coming on such short notice. There are… matters of importance that must be addressed.”

My father nods, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course. We understand the significance.”

I look between them, confused. What significance? What matters? The room feels like a stage, everyone playing a role I don’t understand.

“Y/n,” Lucius says, turning his attention to me. I sit up straighter. “I trust you’ve been keeping up with your studies. Your mother speaks highly of your… talents.”

I blink, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good. I expect nothing less.”

The door to the sitting room opens, and Dobby enters, carrying a silver tray with tea and delicate pastries. He sets them down with a small bow, and I catch his eye, offering a quiet smile. He returns it, but it’s fleeting, almost nervous. Something feels off.

Once Dobby leaves, Lucius stands, clasping his hands behind his back. “I have arranged a small… demonstration this afternoon,” he says, his voice carrying an edge of authority. “A way for our families to showcase their… strengths.”

My heart skips. Demonstration? I glance at my parents, but they remain silent. My mother’s gaze flicks to me, a warning hidden in her eyes. Stay quiet. Do as you’re told.

Draco shifts beside his mother, his jaw tightening. He looks at his father, but doesn’t say a word. Lucius continues, his tone casual, but the weight of his words presses down on me. “We have some distinguished guests arriving shortly. It’s important that they see the unity and talent within our… circle.”

Guests? My mind races. This isn’t just a meeting. This is a performance—one I didn’t know I’d be a part of.

Narcissa stands, smoothing the front of her robes. “Draco,” she says softly, “you know what’s expected of you.”

He nods, eyes fixed on the floor, then looks at me. There’s a flicker of something there—sympathy? Resignation?

Lucius turns to me, a cold smile on his lips. “Y/n, your mother has spoken highly of your talents. You will dance.”

The room spins, my heart pounding in my chest. I glance at my mother, searching for some kind of explanation, but she only gives me a firm, expectant nod.

I straighten out my dress subconsciously. “Yes, sir,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “But… I don’t have anything with me.”

Narcissa clears her throat, her lips a thin line. “No matter, dear. I was once a dancer myself. I have some unworn pointe shoes in storage that Dobby will bring out for you.”

Just like that, Dobby pops in with a box. I take it gently in my lap and open the lid. Inside is a pair of beautiful pointe shoes, brand new, and exactly my size. How did they know?

My question is answered when my mother opens her charmed bag and hands me a pair of tights, a leotard, and a dance skirt.

Of course they’re all prepared. This was planned.

“Oh… perfect,” I stammer out, keeping my best smile on.

“We have a small practice studio on the second floor. Feel free to go change and warm up, Y/n,” Narcissa says softly, walking to the door. “It’ll be the third door on the left. You have about half an hour.”

I nod politely, giving her a small smile. I turn to look at my parents who don’t seem to care about anything other than this going well. Draco, on the other hand, meets my eyes for a moment and gives me a sharp nod, as if telling me to go ahead.

Narcissa opens the door, and this time, I hear the murmur of voices—low, commanding, dangerous. The guests have arrived.

Where were they?

I walk out and up the stairs, looking for the door she directed me to go to. Upon opening the third door on the left, I’m greeted with a spacious room, with a mirror along the back wall and a barre across it. On one side wall is a record player with multiple vinyls next to it, and on the other, costumes and pointe shoes are lined up neatly. I get a sense of déjà vu.

It’s laid out exactly like the Room of Requirement.

Could this be what it was preparing me for? Why I needed it, without realizing why?

A knot forms in my stomach as I lock the door behind me and change into the clothes my mother brought for me. I can’t help but feel as if something sinister is going on. Why wouldn’t my parents tell me about this?

I’m no stranger to performing. It’s actually quite common for wealthy parents to showcase their children’s talents to other wealthy wizarding families. I’ve done performances like this a hundred times over, but I’ve always been able to prepare before hand. Now here I am, just now warming up, no idea what music I’ll be dancing to, and in someone else’s pointe shoes.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I lace the shoes around my ankles. The silk ribbons feel unfamiliar, stiff, almost foreign against my skin. Everything about this feels wrong—the rushed preparation, the eerie resemblance to the Room of Requirement, the silence from my parents. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being led into something far more significant than a simple performance.

The distant murmur of voices filters through the door, growing louder as the minutes pass. I focus on my stretches, each movement mechanical, my mind racing. Half an hour isn’t long, but it feels endless. The weight of expectations, unspoken yet crushing, presses down on me like a physical force.

I run my fingers over the row of records, eyes lingering on unfamiliar titles. No clues, no comfort. When the soft knock at the door finally comes, I have to restrain myself from jumping out of my skin.

“Y/n?” Narcissa’s voice is gentle but firm. “It’s time.”

I swallow hard, forcing my face into a mask of calm as I open the door. She waits on the other side, her expression unreadable. “You look lovely,” she says, though her tone feels distant, almost practiced.

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” I reply, my voice hardly much steadier than I feel.

She leads me back down the corridor, the sound of her heels clacking on the floor echoing off the stone walls. As we descend the stairs, the murmur of voices grows louder, until we reach… the dining room? Only the table has been pushed to the side to make room for the piano, and enough space for me to dance. The table is filled with dark-robed figures, their faces shadowed and stern, their eyes flicking to me as I enter.

Lucius stands at the far end, a satisfied smile curving his lips. My parents are seated near the front, their expressions unreadable, their posture perfect. Draco is at the piano, his hands resting on the keys, his eyes fixed on me. The tension in the room is palpable.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lucius announces, his voice smooth and commanding, “tonight, we are honored to witness the talents of our future. A demonstration of the excellence we expect from our families.” His eyes meet mine, sharp and calculating. “Ms. Lavigné, if you please.”

I step forward, my heart pounding in my chest. The weight of every gaze in the room feels like a chain around my neck, pulling me down, binding me in place. Draco’s eyes flicker with something—pity, maybe, or understanding. He nods once, almost imperceptibly, before his fingers press into the keys.

The first notes fill the room, dark and haunting, each chord heavy with unspoken words. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the music seep into my bones, then begin to move. The familiar ache of pointe work grounds me, each step a silent act of defiance.

The room fades away as I lose myself in the dance, but I can still feel their eyes on me—judging, evaluating, dissecting. My mother’s voice echoes in my head, a constant reminder to be perfect, to be pleasing. But with every leap and turn, I feel something shift. This isn’t just a performance. It’s a test. A show of power. A trap.

I pay extra consideration to the way my body looks. Every angle sharp, every line perfect and unbroken, each breath timed to the music Draco is playing. If it weren’t for the guests in the room, I’d have time to be impressed at how effortlessly he plays.

As the final notes of the song linger in the air, I land my last pirouette, breathless and burning with unspoken fury. The room is silent for a moment, then the polite applause begins, hollow and controlled.

Lucius steps forward, his smile cold. “Exquisite,” he murmurs. “Truly, the future of our world is in good hands.”

I bow, my eyes locking onto my parents’. My mother nods, satisfied. My father’s expression is unreadable.

But it’s Draco’s gaze that holds me. There’s no applause from him, no smile—just a quiet understanding. And in that moment, I know we’re both trapped, bound by expectations neither of us can escape.

“Another, if you would,” Lucius says coldly, gesturing back to Draco and me. “That was lovely, and surely our guests didn’t travel all this way just to watch one short song.”

I’m already tired from the one, but a stern glance from my mother tells me exactly what is expected. I’m to do as I’m told, and there will be consequences if I misstep.

I turn towards Draco, who keeps a blank, measured expression on his face, but his eyes give him away. He looks positively depressed, and I just know how badly he wants this to end. I suppose that for once, Draco Malfoy and I might be feeling the exact same way.

He raises an eyebrow subtly, as if asking my permission to continue. I smile unconvincingly, settle into first position, and wait.

He plays the first notes of another song, something slower and more controlled. I tune into the music, and my body mimics the flow of the piece he plays, each step perfectly placed.

At some point I turn to face him, and we lock eyes. Both of us are on autopilot, no doubt, because the only thing going through my mind is how much I want this to end, and the only thing going through his is surely the crushing weight of his parents expectations. He regards me quietly, imperceptibly furrowing his brow and encouraging me to keep going, to dance harder, and I do.

I realize the significance of the song choice. He chose something slow to give me time to breathe. I tell myself I’ll have to thank him later, even if he doesn’t want to speak to me.

Lucius forces us to perform five more numbers, and with each new dance I feel myself getting more exhausted. My arms are tense, my legs are tight, and my toes are sore from being en pointe for so long, but I don’t stop. I push harder, recognizing this for exactly what it is.

A test.

Lucius only grins wider with each new number, watching me grow more weary with every move. During the fourth or fifth song—I’ve lost count at this point—Draco gives me an anxious expression, seemingly… worried for me?

He slows down the piece significantly, taking note of my shallow breathing and the sweat glistening on the back of my neck. Lucius narrows his eyes, but Draco refuses to bring the piece back up to tempo. The silent defiance radiating from him is palpable.

Draco finishes the last piece prematurely, standing up and walking over beside me. I try to quietly catch my breath, plastering on a fake smile.

Lucius gives Draco a positively deadly glare, but Draco merely takes my hand and bows with me, smiling as he regards the guests in his home.

“The lovely Y/n Lavigné,” Draco says confidently, gesturing to me as the guests clap. I curtsy, grateful for the end of whatever power play Lucius was attempting. “Thank you for your time. We’ll allow you all to get back to your meeting while we clean up.”

Lucius narrows his eyes at his son, who has just ruined the fun he was having by taking himself away from the piano. “How courteous of you to allow us back to our conversation, Draco,” Lucius sneers, before plastering an authoritative mask back onto his face to regard his guests as we start to walk out.

I shoot one last glance over my shoulder to my parents who, despite the obviously uncomfortable air in the room, look rather pleased with me. The tension in my body loosens, but only just a little.

Draco leads me out of the dining room, shutting the door behind us.

“That was-” I start, before Draco clamps a hand over my mouth, making a shush sign over his lips with the other. He looks around warily before dropping his hand.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his eyes wide and panicked. He grabs my wrist, dragging me towards the stairs. I follow along without protest, keeping my mouth shut.

He pulls me into his room and locks the door before putting up a silencing charm.

“We’re not allowed to use magic outside of school!” I say anxiously, my eyes going wide.

“Never mind that, we have bigger things to worry about. Go change in the bathroom. I have to tell you something after.”

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. “I don’t have my clothes with me.”

“Here,” he says, shoving a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt into my arms. “You’re staying here tonight, don’t ask questions. Just go. We don’t have much time.”

I swallow a sigh as I walk to his attached bathroom and lock myself in.

What the hell is going on today?