The Pact

I walk outside to the Hogwarts gardens, passing through the greenhouse on the way there. Hannah chatters excitedly next to me, Neville following us closely.

“I can’t believe we got Professor Sprout to let us do this! She’s so sweet,” she beams, letting her fingers run over the plants as we pass.

Neville cuts in, smiling widely. “You’re a genius, Han. Honestly. All that stuff about inter-school unity you told her? She ate it up!”

I chuckle, adding, “The puffs would’ve thrown the party anyway. At least we got permission this time.”

We wander into the fresh air of the gardens, taking in the scene. Fairy lights and lanterns are charmed to float above us, the golden glow caressing the flowers and decorations. A few seating areas have been arranged, with tables full of sweets and drinks for everyone to snack on.

“You really outdid yourselves this time,” Neville says, looking around in awe. “You puffs have an amazing eye for aesthetics.”

Hannah and I giggle, watching some of our friends finish up the last minute details. “We just love to host. Comes with the warmth and friendliness, I suppose,” Hannah teases.

Students from every house are out and about, mingling with some of the new arrivals from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The turnout for the party is already huge, but the warm atmosphere makes it feel more inviting than overwhelming.

Hannah and Neville spot Luna by the punch table, who waves us over cheerfully. I’m still trying to find Aury, so I tell them I’ll be there in a second.

As we step further into the garden, Aurélien appears beside me, his usual charm on full display. “So, are you going to introduce me to your friends, mon étoile, or must I continue stealing all your attention for myself?”

“There you are!” I say excitedly, giving him a quick hug. “I’d be happy to, just don’t scare them. Your confidence can be… overwhelming for some people.”

”I make no promises,” he teases, ruffling my hair as we walk towards the group.

Hannah brightens as we approach, already offering Aurélien a warm smile. “You made it! Glad you came out.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Aurélien responds, his tone playful. “Who’s this?”

“This is our friend Luna. We were just telling her about you,” Hannah says lightly, gesturing to the dreamy eyed girl beside her.

“All good things, I hope,” he says with an easy grin, taking her hand in his and giving her a small bow. “I’m charmed, Luna. Mon étoile has written of your kindness.”

Luna smiles softly, tilting her head. “It’s nice to meet you, too. You have a lovely aura about you. Very warm.”

Aurélian places a hand over his heart, looking pleased. “Coming from someone as radiant as you, Luna, that means the world. Warmth recognizes warmth, non?”

Luna’s smile widens, and there’s a flicker of delight in her eyes. “You’re quite charming,” she says, her tone airy but sincere.

“Only when inspired,” Aurélien replies smoothly, giving her an almost reverent look. “And I suspect you inspire many, with a heart as open as yours.”

Hannah glances at Luna, beaming. “I told you he was something else.”

“Indeed,” Luna says thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on Aurélien. “You’re like a bright flame in the middle of winter—very rare, and very special.”

Aurélien inclines his head with a soft smile. “Merci, Luna. But it seems to me you are the true rarity here. I consider myself lucky to bask in your light tonight.”

Luna gives him an approving nod, a content smile on her face. Neville steps forward next, looking a little shy but determined. “I’m Neville,” he says, offering a hand. “It’s great to meet you.”

Aurélien takes his hand firmly, his expression softening. “Ah, Neville. The one with the green thumb, yes? She speaks of you often.”

“She does?” Neville asks, his cheeks turning red.

“Oui. She admires your bravery.”

The compliment leaves Neville too stunned to respond, so Hannah fills the silence with a laugh. “You’re very charming, aren’t you?”

Aurélien winks at her. “It’s a burden, but someone must carry it.”

Just as Hannah and Neville exchange amused looks, a familiar voice chimes in.

“I see we have company. Y/n, who’s this?”

We turn to find Harry, Ron, and Hermione approaching. Aurélien straightens slightly, his gaze sharpening. “Bonjour! I’m Aurélien Bordeau. It’s a pleasure.” He shoots them a charming smile, running a hand through his hair. “I presume you’re the Golden Trio,” he says, his tone curious. “Y/n has mentioned you.”

“Has she?” Hermione asks, tilting her head.

“Oui. All good things,” Aurélien replies, his grin turning mischievous. “You must be Hermione. The brightest witch in the school, I’m told.”

She flusters slightly, completely disarmed by my smooth talking friend. “That’s… an exaggeration,” she says nervously. “Surely I can’t be the brightest, I’m only a fifth year.”

“Age and wisdom are not mutually exclusive, Miss Granger. Neither are knowledge and experience. Though I’m told you have both.” He takes her hand gently, leaving a small kiss on her knuckles. Ron stares daggers at him, which I have to stop myself from laughing at.

Harry just looks uncomfortable, but that doesn’t stop Aury. “Let’s see. Round glasses, mischievous smile, and curious eyes. You’re Harry.”

“Um… yes, I am.” He turns his gaze to me, still a bit in shock at the introduction. “Mischievous smile and curious eyes, huh?”

I open my mouth to respond, but Ron cuts me off with banter of his own. “Don’t worry, mate. At least she didn’t say they were glistening with the ghosts of your past.”

“Not funny, Ron,” Harry replies, trying to seem annoyed but most definitely also trying not to laugh.

“As I suspected, then. Pleased to meet you, Ron!” Aurélien jumps in, reaching out a hand. “I heard all about your humor from mon soleil. Though, she did warn me about your temper.”

Ron sputters, his ears turning pink. “My temper?”

I roll my eyes, cutting in. “He’s joking. Aury, don’t scare him.”

“Scare him?” Aurélien repeats, feigning innocence. “Jamais. I’m only testing the waters.”

Hermione’s lips twitch, clearly suppressing a smile, while Harry chuckles. “Well, you pass. For now.”

Aurélien raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “For now? Are you planning to test me further, Harry?”

“Only if you give me a reason to,” Harry replies, though there’s no malice in his tone.

Before the conversation can continue, Aurélien claps his hands together. “Enough talk. A party needs movement, n’est-ce pas?”

“What do you have in mind?” Hannah asks, curious.

Aurélien’s grin turns playful. “A game. Something to bring everyone together. And I’m dying to dance.”

“What kind of game?” Ginny asks, joining the group.

My best friend turns to look at me, a glimmer in his eye. “Think they can handle a round of Lune d’Or?”

I break into a smirk, matching his mischief. “Only one way to find out.”

Our friends eye us suspiciously as Aury pulls out his wand, conjuring a golden orb and making it levitate. He send it right over the make shift dance floor, garnering attention from the other party goers.

Being the unashamed extrovert he is, he then strides to the center of the dance floor, stopping the charmed instruments from playing. Everyone turns to look at him as he steps up onto a an upside-down crate.

Aurélien raises his hands theatrically, commanding the attention of the room with effortless charisma. “Mes amis, may I have your attention!” he calls out, his French accent drawing in curious gazes from all corners of the garden. His wand twirls in his hand, the golden orb floating above him casting a soft, inviting glow.

“For those of you who don’t know me,” he continues, a sly smile spreading across his face, “I am Aurélien Bordeau, and I bring you a gift from Beauxbatons—a game we call Lune d’Or.”

Excited murmurs ripple through the crowd as the golden orb pulses lightly, shimmering in the low light. He turns to the Beauxbatons students scattered throughout the party, who are already nodding and smiling knowingly. “Many of us play this often—it’s a tradition back home. And I promise, it’s as thrilling as it is uniting.”

Many of the students turn to each other, whispering with excitement and anticipation. Others just watch silently, admiring the floating orb above his head.

Aurélien chuckles, spreading his arms wide. “The rules are simple! The golden orb—the lune—will hover over the dance floor, choosing pairs. When it glows and descends over two people, they must dance together. Any style, any moves—what matters is that they keep the rhythm and stay connected.”

“What happens if they can’t?” Neville asks hesitantly, looking intrigued but wary.

“Then the lune will glow red, and they’re out,” Aurélien explains, his tone playful but mysterious. “The last pair remaining wins. Oh, and to make it interesting,” he adds, his grin widening, “the lune loves creativity. The more extravagant and daring your dancing, the more likely it is to favor you.”

Hermione frowns slightly. “So it’s a competition of sorts?”

“Ah, but not just any competition!” Aurélien says smoothly, stepping down from the crate and looking at the group. “It’s about trust and connection. You must rely on your partner, or you won’t last long. And most importantly,” he gestures dramatically, “it’s fun.”

The Beauxbatons students cheer in agreement, already stepping toward the dance floor. Others in the crowd exchange curious glances, some clearly hesitant but intrigued.

Aurélien turns back to the group, winking at the me. “Shall we show them how it’s done, mon petite ballerine?”

“Are you asking me to dance, Aury?”

He chuckles slyly, taking my hand and leading me on to the floor. “But of course.”

Aurélien sweeps me onto the dance floor with his usual flair, spinning me into a gentle twirl before pulling me close. The crowd watches with eager curiosity as he lifts his hand, gesturing to the orb above.

“Lune d’Or,” he calls out confidently, “let’s begin!”

The golden orb glimmers brighter, floating higher for a moment before it drifts downward, settling over us. A soft, melodic tune begins to play, slower at first, as Aurélien’s hand slides to my waist.

“Shall we give them a show, mon étoile?” he murmurs, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

I roll my eyes, though I can’t help but grin. “Let’s make it unforgettable.”

Aurélien leads me into a sweeping waltz, effortlessly gliding across the floor as if we’ve done this a hundred times—which we have. The music picks up pace, and he suddenly lifts me into the air, spinning me before placing me back on my feet. Gasps and cheers erupt from the crowd, and I catch glimpses of astonished faces.

“Show-off,” I tease under my breath.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” he quips, dipping me low as the lune glows a warm gold, signaling approval.

The orb rises, now scanning the crowd. It pauses before descending over Ron and Hermione, glowing brighter.

“Oh, no,” Hermione mutters, clearly flustered as Ron grins awkwardly.

“Guess it’s our turn, ‘Mione,” he says, offering his hand.

Reluctantly, she takes it, and they step onto the floor. Their movements are stiff at first, but as the music plays on, they find a rhythm. Hermione’s concentration shifts to following Ron’s lead, and for a brief moment, she’s smiling.

The orb rises again, choosing Neville and Hannah next.

“Ready?” Hannah asks, beaming.

“Not really,” Neville admits, but he takes her hand anyway.

Their steps are sweet and simple, filled with shy smiles and quiet encouragement. When Hannah spins Neville, laughter breaks out among the spectators.

The lune floats once more, this time landing over Luna and Harry.

“Oh, this should be interesting,” Ginny mutters, watching with crossed arms.

Harry scratches the back of his neck. “I, uh, don’t really dance.”

“No matter,” Luna says serenely, taking his hand. “We’ll just follow the music.”

True to her word, Luna leads with whimsical, almost ethereal movements, while Harry does his best to keep up. Surprisingly, the orb glows warmly, as if charmed by their unorthodox style.

Ginny is chosen next, paired with a tall Durmstrang boy who introduces himself as Viktor’s cousin, Andrei. He’s confident and bold, twirling her with impressive ease, though Ginny keeps her guard up with sharp, precise steps.

Finally, the orb drifts toward a Slytherin boy—Blaise Zabini, I think—and an old Beauxbatons classmate of mine, Camille.

“Looks like we’re up,” Blaise says smoothly, offering her a hand.

Camille, clearly familiar with the game, accepts gracefully, and the two step onto the floor. Their chemistry is undeniable, their movements sleek and calculated, each spin and dip eliciting murmurs of admiration from the crowd.

The lune hovers above, shifting between pairs, its glow signaling approval of the dancers while the music crescendos. As I glance toward the sidelines, I catch Draco watching the scene intently, his expression unreadable.

Aurélien notices my distraction and tilts his head. “Don’t lose focus. You wouldn’t want to stumble.”

I shake my head, returning to the dance. “Not a chance.”

As the game continues, pairs drop out one by one, leaving the most skilled—or determined—dancers to carry on. And while the lune favors showmanship, it’s clear that trust between partners is what truly keeps them in the game.

After some time, the only pairs left are Aurélien and I and Hannah and Neville.

“This is hardly fair,” Hannah teases, being led by Neville while I follow Aury. “You’re a trained dancer.”

“Actually, we both are,” Aury replies, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “But it’s all about trust, mademoiselle.”

The music swells and we give each other a knowing look, preparing ourselves to do our big finish.

“I want to do our number from last fall,” I tell him, keeping my voice low.

He grins, eyeing me mischievously. “You’re not wearing pointe shoes, ballerine.”

“When has that ever stopped me?” I reply, letting him spin me around. “I can get en pointe in these shoes. That’s why I wear them.”

“As you wish, mon étoile.”

He tightens his grip on my waist and I plié, before jumping, him pushing me up to move his grip onto my legs. I hear a gasp from the crowd as he does, which puts a smile on my face. Then with one last lift, I’m able to step onto his shoulders, en pointe.

He stands beneath me, arms out, watching my every move. I can feel the eyes of everyone on us, watching such a dangerous stunt.

As the music crescendos, I take my weight off my right leg, pulling it behind me and into a split, holding my ankle above my head. Aurélien turns slowly, which makes it look like I’m spinning in a music box.

I hear clapping and whispers from around the floor, but nothing can break my focus. Especially not now, because this is the best part.

I pull my right leg down, balancing on one of his shoulders. With a slight plié and a breath, I push myself off and into the air, spinning my body until I land in his arms, him catching me in an effortless cradle. Aurélien holds me securely, his grin widening as the crowd erupts into cheers. He spins us one final time before gently setting me back on my feet. My chest rises and falls as I catch my breath, adrenaline buzzing through me like electricity.

“That,” Aurélien says softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face, “is why we always win.”

I smirk, leaning in to whisper, “It’s because you’ve got me.”

He chuckles, his voice rich and warm. “Touché, ballerine.”

Neville and Hannah clap as they step off the floor, both looking a mix of relieved and impressed. Hannah calls out, “Okay, you win. But don’t expect us to pull that off anytime soon!”

The lune d’or glows brightly one last time over our heads before shattering into golden flecks of light, scattering across the dance floor. The magical dust lingers in the air like fireflies, adding to the celebratory mood as everyone claps and cheers.

“You’ve got to admit,” Ginny says as she steps up to join us, “that was bloody brilliant.”

“Brilliant, maybe,” Ron chimes in, still slightly out of breath from his earlier round with Hermione, “but also showing off. Typical.”

I laugh lightly, wiping a bit of sweat from my brow. “You can blame Aurélien. He never does anything halfway.”

Aurélien bows dramatically, his hand over his heart. “I’ll take full responsibility, as always.”

As people start mingling again, the music resumes, and the chatter grows louder. But out of the corner of my eye, I notice someone who doesn’t join the applause: Draco. He stands near the edge of the garden, his hands in his pockets, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

Aurélien notices him, too, leaning toward me and lowering his voice. “Looks like someone wasn’t impressed. Want me to go speak with him?”

I roll my eyes, nudging him. “Don’t you dare.”

But even as I brush it off, I can’t shake the tension in Draco’s stare, the weight of something unspoken. I exhale slowly, letting myself revel in the applause and light for a little longer before he inevitably tries to drag me back down with him.

I chat with my friends, Aurélien making a lively addition to the group. Everyone seems to be charmed by him, even the boys, who are usually wary of newcomers. I call that the “Aury effect.” No one can resist him.

Except Draco, apparently. He’s still staying daggers at us, frustrated and pissed off. It’s honestly starting to annoy me, his anger dampening my own good mood.

Aurélien leans in close, whispering in my ear, “If looks could kill,  we’d both be six feet under. Care to tell me what’s going on with your ami over there?”

I shake my head, forcing a smile to hide my growing irritation. “Nothing. He’s just—”

“Difficult?” Aurélien finishes for me, grinning.

“Exactly,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

Aurélien chuckles but doesn’t press further, pulling Luna into a conversation about magical creatures. I let out a small breath of relief, grateful for the distraction, but the moment is short-lived.

As I move to grab a drink from the refreshment table, I’m intercepted by someone. A tall boy with dark skin, striking features, and a sharp, knowing gaze steps in front of me. His posture is casual, but there’s a confidence in the way he holds himself that makes it clear he’s used to being noticed.

“You’ve got quite the talent,” he says smoothly, his voice deep and deliberate.

I blink, caught off guard. “Uh, thanks?”

He extends a hand. “Blaise Zabini. We’re in the same year.”

Realization flickers across my face. Zabini. He was one of the two friends with Draco my first night at Hogwarts who cornered me in the corridor.

“Yes, I remember you,” I reply, my tone slightly guarded. “You gave me a very… warmwelcome to Hogwarts a couple months ago.”

Blaise’s smirk softens into something more disarming, his dark eyes glinting with a touch of humor. “Ah, yes. A moment of… less than stellar hospitality, I admit. First impressions are tricky, aren’t they?”

I cross my arms, raising a brow. “That’s putting it lightly.”

He chuckles, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. “You’re not wrong, but in my defense, Hogwarts isn’t exactly known for rolling out the red carpet for transfers—especially ones who seem to shake things up just by walking in the room.”

I huff a quiet laugh despite myself, the compliment landing smoother than I’d like. “Is that your way of saying I make people uncomfortable?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Blaise counters, his tone silkier now. “It’s more like… you’re impossible to ignore.”

I glance toward where Draco is still brooding in the corner, his expression unreadable but his eyes locked on us. “I seem to have that effect on people.”

Blaise tilts his head slightly, his smirk returning. “That you do. Please, let me make it up to you. One dance, no cornering, no posturing. Just a proper introduction to Hogwarts’ finest.”

“And by finest, you mean…?”

“Well,” Blaise drawls, holding out his hand again with an exaggerated flourish, “me, of course. But I’ll let you decide after.”

I hesitate for only a moment before taking his hand. “Alright, Zabini. One dance. But this doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.”

“Fair enough,” he says smoothly, leading me toward the dance floor. “I’ll earn it.”

The music swells around us as Blaise leads me onto the dance floor. His grip is firm but not overbearing, and he moves with practiced ease, his steps smooth and confident. I feel a little on edge, though I can’t quite place why. Maybe it’s the way his eyes seem to follow my every move, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle I don’t know I’m part of.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” he says casually, spinning me out and pulling me back in with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re secretly part Veela.”

I let out a soft laugh, trying to relax into the rhythm. “Not quite. But I did spend a lot of time dancing at Beauxbatons. Partner dances are kind of my thing.”

“Ah, so you’ve had training,” Blaise says, raising an eyebrow. “Makes sense. You move like someone who knows exactly where they belong on the floor.”

There’s something almost calculating in his tone, though it’s masked by his charm. I shrug lightly. “I guess you could say that. What about you? You’re not bad yourself.”

He chuckles, his expression effortlessly smooth. “I have my moments. Though I’d say it’s more natural talent than training.”

“Of course it is,” I tease, rolling my eyes, but I can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my face.

Blaise’s smirk deepens, but his eyes stay sharp, watching me carefully. “You’re interesting, you know that?” he says after a beat, his tone almost too casual.

“Is that so?” I ask, slightly thrown by the shift.

“Mm.” He spins me again, taking his time before continuing. “It’s not every day you meet someone who can walk into a room and pull so many eyes without even trying. It’s… intriguing.”

I feel my cheeks heat slightly under the weight of his words. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Am I?” he counters smoothly, his voice dropping slightly. “I’m not so sure. You have this way of drawing people in. Like a magnet. It’s not something you see every day.”

I glance up at him, narrowing my eyes slightly. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to figure me out?”

He chuckles softly, his grip on my waist tightening just a fraction as he guides me into another turn. “Maybe I am. Can you blame me? You’re new to all of this—to us. And yet, here you are, making yourself at home.”

His words are light, but there’s an edge beneath them, like he’s testing the waters. I take a breath, trying to keep my composure. “Hufflepuffs are friendly. We make it easy for people to feel welcome.”

“Do you?” Blaise asks, his smirk returning. “Or is it just you? I’m starting to think there’s more to this than just your house’s reputation.”

I furrow my brow slightly, unsure of where this is going. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilts his head, studying me like he’s trying to solve a particularly tricky riddle. “I’ve just been noticing… patterns lately. Strange ones. Like the way certain people seem to act differently around you. It’s fascinating.”

“Certain people?” I echo, my chest tightening slightly.

Blaise finally lets the smirk drop, his expression turning more thoughtful. “Take Malfoy, for example. He’s not exactly known for… changing his mind about people. And yet, here we are.”

The mention of Draco catches me off guard, and I falter slightly in the steps. Blaise steadies me effortlessly, his grip firm but not forceful.

“What about him?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but my voice wavers just enough to give me away.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Blaise says, his smirk returning faintly. “I’m trying to figure it out myself. He used to be very clear about where he stood with you. Now… not so much.”

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. I don’t know what to say. What can I say?

Blaise watches me closely, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You don’t have to answer. I’m just… curious.”

I raise an eyebrow, studying his features. I respond carefully, my tone measured. “Draco and I have been put in the unfortunate position of having to tolerate each other for our family’s sakes.”

“Tolerate,” he repeats back, as if catching me in a lie. “That seems very impersonal, which is odd considering you’re on a first name basis.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling my face heat up. His name just slipped, since that’s how I think of him. And to be fair, that’s what I call him when I talk to other people. I just don’t say it to his face, and now his best friend knows that.

“We’re not,” I respond quickly, faking nonchalance. “It’s very… formal. He calls me Lavigné.”

“And you call him Malfoy,” he says slyly. “Why the difference when he’s not around, then?”

I panic for a moment, trying to think of an answer that would sound right to a Slytherin. “It’s out of respect,” I say unconvincingly. “He prefers it this way, so I stick with that.”

“Is it really out of respect?” He twirls me around, pulling me back in. “Or is it just too… intimate for you?”

My face heats up at the question, and I feel scrutinized under his gaze. “Whatever you’re implying, you’re wrong. Our arrangement is strictly out of necessity.”

“Interesting. That’s not what he said.” He spins me one last time before the music fades, his expression unreadable as he pulls me back into position. “But anyways, darling, I think I’ve seen enough for now.”

“Enough of what?” I ask, my voice quieter than I’d like.

Blaise smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I have a feeling the answers will come soon enough.”

And with that, he steps back, releasing me with a bow that feels both respectful and knowing. I watch him walk away, my mind spinning. Whatever just happened, I feel like I’ve been tested.

But more importantly, what did Draco say to him about me?