The Pact

I wake up to the sun filtering through the window of Aurélien’s room. I turn groggily to the side table, rubbing my eyes as I look at the clock.

“Oh, shit! Aury, we’re late,” I say, shaking him awake.

“Quoi…?” He opens his eyes, yawning. “What’s wrong, étoile? I didn’t hear you.”

“We’re late,” I repeat, dragging myself and him out of bed. “Potions is halfway through by now, I’m sure.”

Aurélien groans, but the urgency in my tone gets him moving. I throw on my uniform as quickly as I can, not bothering with perfecting my tie or tucking in my shirt. A glance at Aurélien tells me he’s just as disheveled, his curly hair a mess, his robes slightly skewed.

“We look like we fought a troll and lost,” he mutters, buttoning his cloak.

“We don’t have time to fix it. Snape’s going to kill us,” I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him out the door.

We sprint through the corridors, skidding to a halt just outside the Potions classroom. I can already hear the low murmur of Snape’s voice and the clinking of cauldrons. I glance at Aurélien, who gives me a lazy grin.

“Ready to make an impression, étoile?” he teases.

I groan. “Just… don’t say anything stupid.”

We push open the door, and the room falls deathly silent. Snape stops mid-sentence, his cold eyes narrowing at us. Every head in the room turns, and I can feel my face heating up.

“Ah,” Snape drawls, his voice laced with icy disdain. “How thoughtful of you both to join us. Forty-five minutes late.”

Aurélien steps in first, his usual confidence unshaken. “Our apologies, Professor. We got—”

“Spare me your excuses,” Snape snaps, cutting him off. “Take your seats. Now.”

I duck my head and quickly shuffle to my usual place, feeling the weight of everyone’s stares. Aurélien, of course, takes his time, offering a cheerful smile to the Gryffindor girls giggling in the corner before sitting beside me.

A few Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students are sprinkled throughout the classroom, the table filled with twice as many people as I’m used to. The Beaux’s students give Aury and I distasteful glares, no doubt recalling the times we’d done this same exact thing in France.

From behind me, I feel the burn of Draco’s gaze. When I dare to look at him, his expression is a storm of fury and something else—something sharp and unsettling.

“I can’t believe you,” he mutters just loud enough for me to hear when Snape’s back is turned, his words biting. “Strutting in here like the queen of Beauxbatons with your lapdog trailing behind.”

I bristle, narrowing my eyes at him. “Shut up, Malfoy,” I whisper back, trying to sound unaffected even though his words sting more than I want to admit.

His lips curl into a sneer, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something I can’t place. “Oh, so now you don’t care what I have to say again. Typical,” he hisses before turning back to his cauldron, stirring it with more force than necessary.

Aurélien leans over, oblivious to the tension. “What’s his problem?” he asks, smirking as he nods toward Draco.

“I wish I knew,” I mutter, though the answer feels far more complicated than I’m ready to admit.

“Where the hell were you?” Hannah whisper shouts, taking in my disheveled appearance. “You didn’t come back to the dorm last night and now—”

“It’s my fault,” Aury jumps in, keeping his voice low. “I do apologize, miss Abbott. I just didn’t want to stay the first night at a different school alone. Y/n just swooped in to save me from my fear of the dark.”

This seems to quiet Hannah’s rage, though I can feel anger burning in my stomach. Draco definitely heard. Damn it.

“Well… okay, then. But seriously, Y/n, stop disappearing on me all the time.”

“I know, Han, I’m sorry. I’ll let you know next time,” I whisper sincerely, squeezing her hand.

The moment the bell rings, signaling the end of class, I start gathering my things as quickly as possible. The tension in the room has been unbearable, and all I want is to escape.

“Y/n,” Aurélien calls, his voice casual, “are you coming? I was thinking we could—”

“Go on ahead,” I cut him off, forcing a small smile. “I’ll catch up in a second.”

He shrugs, his easygoing grin never faltering. “Suit yourself, étoile. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

As he strides out, I feel a shadow loom over me. I glance up to find Draco standing a little too close, his expression thunderous.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” I sigh, trying to move past him, but he steps in my way.

“Oh, I think you know,” he snaps, his voice low and venomous. “Care to explain your little bed-hopping routine with your ‘best friend’?”

My face flushes, half with anger, half with embarrassment. “Excuse me?” I hiss, gripping my bag tighter.

“You told me he was your best friend,” Draco snarls, his pale eyes flashing. “But from where I’m standing, it looks like there’s a hell of a lot more going on.”

I gape at him, my shock quickly replaced by fury. “I don’t owe you an explanation for what I do, Malfoy.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses, his voice sharper now. “You said it was nothing—just friends. But you disappear for the night, show up together late, and then he starts running his mouth about you saving him from the dark like it’s some big joke. Do you think I’m stupid?”

My hands tremble, but I refuse to back down. “Aurélien is my best friend, Draco. That’s all. I don’t know what you think you saw or heard, but I don’t need to justify myself to you.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You really think I’ll just believe that after today? After the way you two act around each other?” His voice dips lower, rawer. “You lied to me.”

His words hit harder than I expect, and I feel a lump rising in my throat. “I didn’t lie,” I say quietly, though my voice wavers. “You’re making this into something it’s not.”

Draco’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then he steps back, his voice colder than ever. “Fine. Do whatever you want. It’s not like it matters anyway.”

He turns and stalks off, his robes billowing behind him. I stand frozen, my chest tight and my mind spinning with everything unsaid.

“Y/n?” Hannah’s voice snaps me back to reality. She’s watching me with concern. “Are you okay?”

I nod stiffly, forcing a weak smile. “Yeah. Let’s just… get to our next class.”

But as we leave, I can’t shake the feeling that this confrontation was about more than Aurélien—and that Draco’s anger runs deeper than he wants to admit.

It feels like a huge setback from our heart to heart last night. I can’t decide whether I should try to talk to him or give him space.

The rest of the day drags on painfully slow. My mind is stuck on the fight with Draco, replaying his words over and over again. I end up separating from Aury and my friends for a bit to clear my head.

As I step into the corridor after Transfiguration, lost in my thoughts, I almost collide with someone.

“Careful there,” a smooth voice says. I look up to see Blaise Zabini, his dark eyes glinting with mild amusement.

“Sorry,” I mumble, stepping aside to let him pass.

But he doesn’t move. Instead, he tilts his head, studying me with an unreadable expression. “Rough day?”

I blink at him, caught off guard. “Something like that,” I admit, not sure why he’s talking to me after our odd conversation at the party last night.

He smirks faintly, leaning casually against the wall. “Funny. You’re not the only one. Malfoy’s been storming around all day, snapping at anyone who gets in his way.”

My stomach flips, but I try to keep my voice neutral. “That doesn’t sound unusual for him.”

“No,” Blaise agrees, his tone light, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. “But today’s different. He seems… frustrated. Like he’s not just angry—he’s hurt.”

I glance away, my chest tightening. “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I say quietly, though the words feel hollow.

Blaise chuckles softly. “Right. Of course not.” He straightens up, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. “Look, I don’t usually get involved in my mate’s messes, but I thought you should know—he’s in the library after classes. Probably brooding. If you’re thinking about talking to him… for whatever reason, now’s your chance.”

I gape at him, unsure how to respond. “Why are you telling me where he is?”

Blaise shrugs, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Call it curiosity. Or maybe I just want my friend to stop being insufferable.”

Before I can say anything else, he strides off, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding.

I guess I’ve got to go find him now, don’t I?

~

For the first time ever, I actually tell Hannah where I’m going so she doesn’t freak out.

“Why are you looking for… wait, do you need to talk about the thing?” she asks, lowering her voice.

Rather than going into everything, I just go with it. “Yeah. We’ve got to look through his manor this weekend and we need a plan.”

She nods knowingly, looking around to see if anyone is listening. “Gotcha. I’ll let Aury know. He can hang out with us while you’re gone.”

“Thanks, Han,” I say quietly, shooting her a smile as I make my way to the library.

There aren’t many students here at this hour, most of them are down in the great hall mingling with the other schools or relaxing out on the grounds. I scan the room for that platinum blond hair I’ve grown to recognize, but I can’t find him.

I walk through the library, scanning between every shelf and study table, but come up with nothing. Eventually I walk all the way to the back as a last resort, and I see the faint glow of a lumos charm being shielded from the rest of the room by an armchair.

I walk forward hesitantly, light on my feet, and there he is. Honestly, the picture is kind of… endearing.

He’s curled up on the armchair, laying across it sideways with his head on the armrest closer to me and his legs tucked up against the other. He’s got a book in his lap, illuminating the pages with his wand, and he just looks so… comfortable. He’s got no cloak on, no shoes, just a button up and trousers. I almost feel bad for disturbing him.

“Um… hi,” I say softly, startling him a bit.

“Can’t you see I’m—” he starts, before turning to see that it’s me. He gives me a nasty glare before turning back to his book, his body tensing up. “Piss off, Lavigné.”

I rock back and forth on my feet, playing with the chain of his necklace. “No.”

“I’m serious. Leave me alone.”

“Or what? You’ll hex me?” I retort sarcastically.

He snaps his book shut, groaning. “You’re not funny.”

“I think I am.”

Finally he sits up, looking less than happy to see me. “You’re insufferable. Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to talk to you? Why can’t you just take the hint?”

“Maybe I’m being clingy,” I reply, tilting my head. He bristles, noticing I’ve thrown his teasing from last night back at him. “Have you considered that?”

Draco narrows his eyes at me, his jaw tightening. “I don’t need your jokes right now,” he mutters, his voice low and biting.

I take a step closer, determined to hold my ground. “And I don’t need you snapping at me every time something doesn’t go your way.”

His eyes flash, and for a moment, I think I’ve pushed him too far. But then he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Why are you even here, Lavigné? Shouldn’t you be off with your little boyfriend, playing hero or whatever it is you do?”

I blink, startled by the bitterness in his tone. “This is about Aurélien,” I realize, my voice softer now.

“Of course it’s about him,” he snaps, leaning forward. “You spend the night with him, waltz into class late like it’s no big deal, and then expect me to—what? Pretend I don’t see it?”

My breath catches, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him. “Malfoy,” I say carefully, “nothing happened. I told you—he’s my best friend. That’s all.”

His laugh is harsh, almost mocking. “And I’m supposed to believe that? You don’t see the way he looks at you. Or maybe you do, and you just don’t care.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the vulnerability in his eyes stops me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to confirm his worst fears.

“Malfoy,” I say again, softer this time. “You’re the one I came to find. Not him.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then his shoulders sag, and he looks away, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

“Because,” I say, stepping closer, “you matter to me. Whether you believe it or not, you do.”

His gaze snaps back to mine, and for the first time, I see the walls around him crack just a little. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no venom in his voice now.

“And yet, here I am,” I reply, giving him a small, tentative smile.

He shakes his head, looking away again, but I catch the faintest flicker of something softer in his expression. Maybe—just maybe—he’s starting to believe me.

I move in front of the armchair he’s in, taking a seat on the floor. He gives me a bewildered gaze but pulls his legs up underneath him to give me more room. Leaning back on my hands, I study him.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I’m tired of standing,” I say simply. “And I have a feeling this might take a minute.”

He groans, running a hand through his hair. “How did you even know I’d be in here?” he asks, leaning back into his chair.

Perfect, he’s letting me talk to him.

“I was told you might be sulking in the library.”

He narrows his eyes, almost as if he doesn’t believe me. “Who told you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I reply, my voice soft. “What’s more important is why you’re all pissy because I had a sleepover with my friend. Care to enlighten me about why?”

Draco scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not pissy, Lavigné,” he mutters, though the defensive edge in his voice says otherwise.

“Right,” I say, tilting my head. “You’re just sulking, snapping at me, and glaring at Aurélien like he personally insulted your entire bloodline. Totally normal behavior.”

His glare sharpens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stares at the floor as if it holds the answer to his problems. “You wouldn’t understand,” he finally mutters.

“Try me,” I challenge, leaning forward slightly. “I’m sitting on the floor, for Merlin’s sake. That’s commitment.”

His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smirk, but his expression quickly hardens again. “You’re so insistent,” he says, almost as if he’s annoyed by it.

“Maybe because I don’t like seeing you like this,” I reply, my voice softer now. “You’re upset, and instead of telling me why, you’re shutting me out. So… tell me. What’s going on in that ridiculously stubborn head of yours?”

He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that simple,” he says quietly.

I give him a pointed look. “Then make it simple. Start with why you’re so angry about Aurélien.”

Draco tenses, his fingers tightening slightly on the arms of the chair. “I’m not angry about him,” he says, but the way his voice falters gives him away.

I raise an eyebrow, waiting.

After a long pause, he finally looks at me, his pale eyes stormy with frustration and something else I can’t quite place. “It’s just… you’re so close with him,” he mutters, almost grudgingly. “And he gets to… to act like he knows you better than anyone else. Like no one else even could.”

His words trail off, and for a moment, the room is completely still.

“And that bothers you because…?” I ask gently, not pushing, but giving him space to fill the silence.

Draco looks away again, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly, almost to himself. “It just does.”

“So… you’re jealous of my relationship with him? Is that it?” I question, but with no edge in my voice. I don’t want him to shut down. “Because I could understand why it might bother you considering our little situation.”

Draco’s head snaps back toward me, his eyes narrowing in defiance. “I’m not jealous,” he says firmly, but the slight flush creeping up his neck betrays him. “And our ‘little situation’ has nothing to do with it.”

I raise an eyebrow, tilting my head slightly. “You sure about that? Because it kind of feels like it does.”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair again, clearly frustrated. “Why do you have to analyze everything? Can’t you just… drop it?”

“Not when it involves you storming around like the world’s ending,” I counter, keeping my tone light but steady. “If something’s bothering you, I want to know. It affects me, too. We’re interlinked, whether you like it or not.”

His expression softens for the briefest moment before the walls snap back into place. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and studies me with an intensity that makes my heart skip.

“It’s not jealousy,” he says quietly, as if trying to convince himself as much as me. “I just… don’t like the way he acts like you’re his. Like he owns you.”

His words hang in the air, and my breath catches. “Aurélien doesn’t own me,” I say gently. “No one does. He’s my friend, Malfoy. That’s it.”

Draco doesn’t respond right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t like feeling… pushed out,” he admits after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like I’m just some outsider watching you… watching him. It’s—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if to stop the thought.

I reach out instinctively, resting my hand on the arm of his chair. “You’re not an outsider,” I say softly, leaning in just enough to catch his eyes. “And you’re not being pushed out. You’re the one pushing yourself away.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the vulnerability there takes my breath away. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead, he just exhales, leaning back against the chair with a weary expression.

“This is so bloody complicated,” he mutters, running a hand over his face.

“Welcome to my life,” I say lightly, giving him a small smile. “But you don’t have to figure it out on your own, you know.”

Draco glances at me, something unreadable flickering in his expression, before he finally nods—just once, but it feels like a breakthrough.

“Do you wanna know the real reason why I was so upset about what happened at the manor?”

He perks up, looking at me intensely. He sits in silence, hanging onto my every word.

“But you can’t make fun of me,” I say, my tone light.

“No promises,” he responds, though I can see in his eyes he won’t.

I take a breath, my face a little more serious. “The truth is I thought you didn’t like me. As a person. And it hurt because I kind of thought we were… friends.” The word falls out of my mouth clumsily, like even I wasn’t sure I was going to say it. His face softens significantly. “The whole thing made our bond feel insignificant, and really impersonal. I should’ve just told you, but I thought you wouldn’t want to be close in that way.”

Draco’s expression falters, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor softening into something almost… hesitant. He leans back into the chair, his gaze fixed on me, as if trying to decipher my every word.

“You thought I didn’t like you?” he asks quietly, almost incredulously.

“Well… yeah,” I admit, shrugging a little. “I mean, you’ve spent a lot of time being, let’s say, less than friendly. It’s not exactly a stretch.”

He huffs a small, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

I blink, caught off guard. “Get what?”

Draco looks at me for a long moment, his pale eyes scanning my face like he’s searching for something. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Lavigné. It’s that… I don’t know how to handle you.”

I raise an eyebrow, tilting my head in confusion.

“You’re—” He cuts himself off, groaning in frustration. “You’re not like anyone else I know. You don’t care about bloodlines or status, and you’re not scared of me, either. You just… say what you think and do what you want. It’s maddening.”

I scoff sarcastically. “So, what, you’re upset because I don’t treat you like some untouchable prince?”

Draco gives me a look, but there’s no real bite to it. “You know what I mean,” he mutters. Then, quieter, “I’m not used to it, that’s all. And I’m not used to… this.”

“What?” I prompt, my voice softening.

He hesitates, his gaze dropping to his hands. “Being friends with someone like you,” he finally says, his voice almost too low to hear. “It’s… different.”

For a moment, I don’t know what to say. The vulnerability in his words is startling, and I can tell it’s costing him something to admit it.

“Well,” I say gently, a small smile tugging at my lips, “different isn’t always bad, you know.”

Draco glances at me, his expression conflicted. “You make it sound so easy,” he mutters.

“Maybe it is,” I reply, leaning forward slightly. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now. We can just… try. Deal?”

He studies me for a long moment before finally nodding, a faint, almost reluctant smile ghosting across his lips. “Deal.”

I stretch and stand up, dusting off my robes. “Alright, then. Maybe we start this weekend.”

He gives me a questioning look, dropping his legs back down. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” I begin, “we have to go through your manor this weekend anyway, and our parents won’t be there to bother us. What do you say we have a sleepover of our own? Get to know each other better, without all the dark stuff looming over our heads.”

Draco raises an eyebrow, his skepticism plain on his face. “A sleepover? What are we, first-years?”

I smirk, crossing my arms. “No, but we could use the break. Besides, don’t tell me you’ve never had one.”

He scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Of course not. The Malfoy Manor doesn’t exactly host slumber parties.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I say with a shrug, keeping my tone light but sincere. “No Death Eaters, no schemes—just us. You can even pick the activities if it makes you feel better.”

Draco looks at me like I’ve just suggested we duel on a broomstick over the lake, but I catch the faintest flicker of intrigue in his expression. “And what exactly would this… sleepover entail?”

I pretend to consider it, tapping my chin. “Oh, you know, the usual—talking, snacks, maybe me kicking your arse at wizard’s chess.”

He snorts, but there’s a trace of amusement in his voice. “You? Beat me at chess? You’re delusional, Lavigné.”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” I challenge, offering him a playful grin. “So, what do you say? Are you in, or are you too scared to lose?”

Draco rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Fine,” he says, the word almost grudging. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“I’d be offended if you did,” I reply, turning to leave. “It’s a deal, then. Can’t wait for this weekend, Malfoy.”

As I walk away, I feel his gaze lingering on me. And for the first time, it feels less like a storm and more like the calm that follows.