The Pact

After two restless nights of tossing and turning, trying to untangle the mess of my feelings, the weekend has finally arrived. Aurélien had caught me on my way out this morning and asked where I was going. I lied, saying I’d be attending Ministry mixers with my parents. He accepted it without question, a casual “Good luck, étoile,” thrown over his shoulder as he left.

The guilt of lying tugs at me, but what unsettles me more is the fact that he didn’t notice anything was off. I’ve been acting strange all week, distant and distracted, and he didn’t even blink. Should I feel bad for deceiving him or annoyed that he didn’t care enough to ask?

I sigh, shaking the thought away as I cross the castle grounds. Maybe I’ll bring it up with Draco tonight, though I haven’t decided yet. Knowing him, he’ll drag it out of me anyway. For now, I’ll just take things as they come.

The library is where I find him, just as I expected. He’s seated in his usual spot, flipping through a heavy book, but he looks up as I approach. His eyes brighten slightly, and he closes the book with a quiet thud. “Oh, hey. Ready to go?” he asks, rising from his seat and brushing off his robes like we’re heading to some formal event.

I smile faintly, adjusting the strap of my bag. “Ready when you are.”

He nods, falling into step beside me as we make our way to the Floo in Dumbledore’s office. The familiar path is quiet, save for the soft echo of our footsteps in the corridors. We don’t need much in the way of conversation—our unspoken agreement to keep things calm before the weekend is enough.

We’ve both signed out under the pretense of meetings with our parents at Malfoy Manor, an excuse we’ve used so often that it no longer raises questions. Permission slips aren’t required anymore; just our names in the logbook, and we’re free to go.

When we arrive at the Floo, Draco steps forward, grabbing the powder with practiced ease. He gestures for me to go first, his hand briefly brushing my shoulder. “After you.”

I step into the fireplace, gripping my bag tightly as the green flames swirl around me. “Malfoy Manor,” Draco calls, and the flames roar to life, pulling us through in a flash of light and heat.

When the world steadies again, we’re standing in the grand foyer of the Malfoy estate. The high ceilings, gleaming marble floors, and the faint hum of distant magic are as familiar now as the castle itself. I glance at Draco, who’s already brushing off invisible specks of soot, and feel the knot of tension in my chest ease just a little. The weekend is here, for better or worse.

He gets out first and offers me a hand, helping me gently step out. I can’t help but notice how my heart jumps when we touch, something that still hasn’t changed despite our growing familiarity with each other.

Draco lets go of my hand the moment I’m steady, brushing his hair back as if the gesture meant nothing to him. Maybe it didn’t—but I can still feel the warmth lingering on my palm. He’s already walking ahead, motioning for me to follow.

“Come on,” he says over his shoulder. “We’ve got the place to ourselves until tomorrow night. My parents won’t be back until then.”

“Right,” I say, adjusting my bag and falling into step beside him. It’s oddly quiet, even for the Malfoy Manor. The usual oppressive energy feels lighter somehow, as though the house itself relaxes when Lucius and Narcissa aren’t around.

We’re halfway through the grand hallway when a soft thud and the faint jingle of a bell catches my attention. I look down to see a sleek black cat slinking toward us, its shiny coat catching the dim light of the chandelier.

Draco stops abruptly. “Hades,” he murmurs, crouching slightly as the cat approaches. “Don’t tell me you’re here to make trouble.”

The cat ignores him entirely, its sharp green eyes fixed on me. I stay perfectly still as it circles me, its tail flicking lazily. “Is he friendly?” I ask, not wanting to assume.

“He doesn’t like people,” Draco says, straightening up. “Even Mother can’t get near him most days.”

“Is that so?” I glance down at Hades, who’s now brushing against my legs. Tentatively, I kneel and hold out a hand, letting him sniff me. To my surprise, he leans into my touch, his purring loud enough to echo in the cavernous hall.

Draco blinks. “Well. That’s new.”

I glance up at him, one brow raised. “He seems fine to me.”

“Clearly.” His voice is flat, but there’s something unreadable in his expression. “Maybe he’s got a thing for Hufflepuffs.”

I roll my eyes, standing as Hades winds his way around my ankles. “Or maybe he just knows I’m not planning to hex anyone.”

“Funny.” Draco crosses his arms, but I catch the corner of his mouth twitching, like he’s fighting a smile. “Come on, then. If you’re done charming my cat, there’s a lot to do.”

“Jealous?” I tease, earning an eye roll of his own. Hades pads after us as we continue down the hallway, his presence somehow making the manor feel a little less intimidating.

I reach down tentatively to pick him up and he lets me, settling into my arms with a chirp.

“Aren’t you just so handsome?” I coo, nuzzling my face into his fur. “Just a sweet little kitty, hm?”

Draco snorts, his arms still crossed. “Sweet little kitty? You do realize you’re talking about a demon in fur, right? He’s fooled you.”

I glance up, smirking. “You’re just mad he likes me more than you.”

“Oh, please,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t need a cat’s approval to sleep at night. But go on, keep spoiling him—he’ll probably claw your face off the second you stop.”

Hades purrs louder, rubbing his head against my chin. I raise a brow at Draco. “Really? Because he seems perfectly content. Maybe he just doesn’t like you.”

Draco scoffs, but there’s a glint of humor in his eyes. “Trust me, he liked me just fine when he was a kitten. Now he’s clearly moved on to more sickeningly affectionate people.”

I laugh softly, scratching under Hades’ chin. “Can’t blame him for having good taste.”

Draco shakes his head, starting to walk again. “Merlin help me. If you start baby-talking him, I’m leaving you both behind.”

“Don’t worry, Hades,” I whisper conspiratorially into the cat’s fur. “We don’t need him anyway.”

Draco glances back, catching the tail end of my comment. “Oh, very mature. Just remember, you’re the guest here.”

I flash him an innocent smile, letting Hades settle more comfortably in my arms as we follow him deeper into the manor. “Don’t feel bad, Malfoy. I just have a way with stubborn creatures.”

He shakes his head, but I can sense the smile on his lips as he walks in front of me, refusing to turn around.

As we reach the entrance to the sitting room, Draco gestures for me to follow. “Come on, we can set up here. Might as well get started now.”

I pause, holding Hades a little tighter. “Already? Don’t you think we should… I don’t know, ease into it?”

Draco gives me a skeptical look. “Ease into it? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m bloody starving,” I say, heading toward the kitchen without waiting for his response. “I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

Draco sighs, trailing after me. “You’ve had all day to eat, and you wait until now?”

“Well, I’m here now,” I counter, setting Hades down on the counter as we enter the kitchen. The cat hops off immediately, wandering off to sulk—or maybe nap. “Besides, we’ll think better with snacks. Do you have anything good? Or is it all, like, pâté and caviar?”

He folds his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “For your information, our house-elves stock the kitchen with whatever we need. But if you’re so determined to ruin my productivity, you can make something yourself.”

“Fine,” I say with a shrug, scanning the cabinets. “Do you have cookie ingredients? Flour, sugar, chocolate chips?”

Draco frowns, watching me rummage through the pantry. “Do I look like someone who makes cookies?”

“No,” I admit, pulling out what I need. “But I bet you could learn. It’s not that hard.”

“Oh, no,” he says, stepping into the kitchen with an almost horrified expression. “You are not dragging me into this.”

I grin at him, pulling an apron from a hook on the wall. “Come on, Malfoy. This is the point of a sleepover. Baking together is great for bonding.”

He stares at me, unimpressed. “That’s supposed to convince me?”

I tie the apron around my waist and grab another, tossing it to him. “Well, you could sit there and watch me have all the fun, but that doesn’t sound very Slytherin of you.”

He catches the apron, looking at it like it might bite him. “I’ll regret this,” he mutters, but he slips it on anyway.

I beam at him as I start measuring out ingredients. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Now, grab the chocolate chips.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he opens the cupboard. “If we burn down the kitchen, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I reply, waving him off dismissively. “Baking is a hobby of mine. I think I know how to handle an oven.”

He opens a different cabinet, pulling out a container. “Looking for this?” I turn to see him holding the brown sugar with a smug grin.

I smile softly, walking over to take it from him. “So you do know how to bake cookies?”

“Not by choice,” he muses, sliding the container towards me. “My mother would always bake for me when she was bored or having a bad day, so I just picked it up after a while.”

“Are you telling me the great Draco Malfoy isn’t so big and bad after all?” I tease, setting a bowl on the counter.

He narrows his eyes, scooping some flour into the bowl without looking. “Don’t push your luck, Hufflepuff.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” I reply, grinning as I crack an egg into the mixture. “Next thing you’ll tell me is you knit scarves for your friends in your spare time.”

Draco snorts, shaking his head as he adds a pinch of salt. “Right, because Blaise is just dying for a hand-knit Slytherin scarf.”

I laugh, grabbing the sugar. “Hey, I’d take one. Yellow and black, please.”

“Noted,” he says dryly, stirring the mixture with exaggerated care. “Maybe I’ll get you one for Christmas.”

I grin at his sarcasm, tossing in a handful of chocolate chips. “I’ll hold you to that, Malfoy. Just don’t expect me to return the favor.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He smirks, reaching for the flour again. I try to stop him, but in the scramble, a puff of white powder bursts into the air.

“Nice going,” I say, coughing through the cloud. I glance down and realize my hands are now covered in flour—and so is my face. “Great. Now I’m a mess.”

Draco raises a brow, his smirk growing wider. “You’re just now realizing that?”

I shoot him a playful glare, dusting my hands off on my apron. I try wiping at my cheek with my sleeve, but it doesn’t do much good. Before I can try again, he steps closer, his expression softening. “Hold still,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers lightly against my cheek to sweep the flour away.

My breath catches at the sudden closeness, and for a moment, I forget to speak. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and when his eyes meet mine, there’s something almost hesitant in them.

We stay like that for just a moment, his fingers lingering on my skin. I feel the heat start to creep up into my face and I have to look away for a moment, his eye contact too intense for me to handle.

“There,” he says gently, stepping back like nothing happened. “All clean.”

“Thanks,” I manage, my voice quieter than I intended. The air between us feels heavier now, but Draco breaks the tension with a smirk.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, tossing the spoon into the bowl. “We still have to bake these without setting off the wards. That’ll be the real challenge.”

I laugh softly, shaking off the moment and reaching for the tray. “You underestimate me, Malfoy. I’ve never met a cookie I couldn’t handle.”

“We’ll see about that,” he quips, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching me with an amused glint in his eye.

“Shut up,” I reply, placing dollops of dough onto a baking sheet. When he looks away for a moment at Hades circling nearby, I sneak a piece of dough into my mouth, but he catches me.

“Lavigné! That’s not cooked yet, you can’t—”

“Oh, lighten up. A little taste won’t kill me,” I respond, chuckling lightly. “You’re so serious all the time. Life’s too short for that.”

He gives me an exasperated sigh, though the subtle tinge of pink is still on his cheeks from amusement. “I’m not being too serious. People get sick from that.”

“So you’re being too protective then,” I say, pushing the tray into the oven. I hop up on the counter opposite him, sitting down and swinging my legs. “I’m not made of glass. I’m not going to break.”

Draco’s smirk sharpens as he steps closer, his arms still crossed. “Oh, I’m well aware you’re not made of glass, Lavigné. But that doesn’t mean you’re invincible, either.”

His tone is teasing, but the way he moves toward me—slow and deliberate—makes my heart race. I tilt my head, trying to play it cool, though the closer he gets, the harder it is to keep my composure.

“You know,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady, “I don’t think I’m the clingy one here. I’m not convinced you’ve ever heard of personal space.”

He stops just in front of me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him. “It’s my house. Personal space is a privilege, not a right.”

I swallow, my legs still swinging as I look up at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he replies, leaning slightly closer, his smirk daring me to respond. “But you seem to tolerate it just fine.”

I narrow my eyes, the playful tension between us making it hard to think straight. Without warning, I grab a glob of cookie dough from the bowl beside me and shove it into his mouth. “There. That should keep you quiet.”

Draco stumbles back slightly, his expression flipping from smug to startled as he hurriedly pulls the dough from his mouth. “Lavigné!” he sputters, glaring at me through a cough.

I burst out laughing, clutching my sides as his outrage quickly turns into exasperation. I gasp, doubling over. “You look like—like you just got hit with a hex!”

He glares at me, though there’s a flicker of reluctant amusement in his eyes. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, grabbing a nearby napkin to wipe his hands.

“And you’re dramatic,” I shoot back, still grinning. “It’s just cookie dough.”

He sighs, shaking his head, but I catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous, or I’d throw you into the nearest cauldron.”

“Oh, please.” I wave a hand dismissively. “You’d miss me too much.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he leans casually against the counter beside me, close enough that our shoulders nearly touch. “Enjoy your little victory,” he says, glancing sideways at me. “Because payback is coming.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I reply, meeting his gaze with a grin that I can’t quite suppress. The playful challenge lingers between us, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. “You’re too easy. I hardly have to try to get on your nerves.”

“You’re not on my—” he starts, but catches himself. I raise an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to go on.

“You’re not on my nerves,” he finishes after a pause, his voice softer than before. The teasing edge in his tone has faded, leaving something quieter, almost unsure.

I tilt my head, my grin softening. “No? Then why do you look like you’re holding back a lecture every time I open my mouth?”

Draco exhales a short laugh, his gaze flicking away for a moment before settling back on me. “I’ve told you before, you’re just… different from what I’m used to.”

I blink at his sudden honesty, the playful air between us shifting into something more fragile. “Different how?” I ask, my voice quieter now too, almost hesitant.

He leans back against the counter, looking down at his hands as if the answer might be there. “You’re not like most people I know. You’re not trying to impress anyone.” He glances up, his silver eyes meeting mine. “You just are.”

I feel my cheeks heat at his words, unsure how to respond. The sincerity in his tone catches me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless.

“I—well,” I stammer, searching for something light to say but finding nothing. “I didn’t think you noticed stuff like that.”

His lips quirk in a faint smile, though it’s more thoughtful than teasing. “Maybe I notice more than you think.”

The silence stretches between us, not awkward but heavy with unspoken things. I realize, in this moment, how close we are—his shoulder brushing against mine, his eyes steady on mine. The kitchen feels far too small, the warmth from the oven mirroring the warmth rising in my chest.

“Maybe you do.” I wipe my hands off on my apron, leaning into him gently, slightly pushing him over. “Guess I should give you more credit.”

His gaze flicks up to my face and his pale eyes sparkle with something I haven’t seen before. Something entirely new, gentle, and… affectionate.

“We need a timer,” he says suddenly, straightening up and stepping back as if the moment is too much. “We didn’t set one.”

The spell breaks, and I blink, startled by the abrupt shift. “Right,” I say, sliding off the counter and moving toward the oven. “Wouldn’t want them to burn.”

“Exactly,” he mutters, his tone back to its usual clipped edge. But when I glance back at him, I catch a glimpse of something softer in his expression, something he’s trying to hide.

Facing away from him, I let my hair down. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Do what?” he asks, and I can hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Shut down every time I get close,” I reply, turning around to face him. “I’m going to figure you out one way or another. You may as well make it easy for the both of us.”

Draco stares at me, the tension between us crackling like static in the air. For a moment, I think he’s going to brush me off with one of his usual quips, but instead, he exhales slowly, his shoulders dropping just a fraction.

“I’m not shutting down,” he says, though his voice lacks conviction. “I’m just… careful.”

“Careful,” I repeat, crossing my arms. “That’s one way to put it.”

He runs a hand through his hair, the hesitation in his movements betraying him. “You don’t understand, Lavigné. People—when they get close to me—it doesn’t end well. It never does.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with something unspoken. I take a step closer, my heart aching at the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to cover. “You know,” I say softly, “you don’t have to keep pushing people away. Not everyone is out to hurt you.”

He lets out a humorless laugh, his eyes flicking away. “You say that like you know. Like you’ve lived my life.”

“I don’t have to live your life to know what it’s like to feel alone,” I reply, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “And I know what it’s like to be afraid of letting someone in. But you don’t have to carry that by yourself.”

For a moment, he just looks at me, his silver eyes searching mine as if he’s trying to figure out whether I mean it. The silence stretches between us, thick and charged, until finally, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how,” he admits, the honesty in his tone catching me off guard.

I step closer, close enough now that I can see the faint worry in his eyes, the slight twitch in his jaw. “You start small,” I say, offering a gentle smile. “Like, maybe, admitting that you’re jealous Hades likes me more than you.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, the tension easing just a little. “Not a chance.”

“See?” I tease, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “You’re already letting me in. Baby steps, Malfoy.”

He shakes his head, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips now, softer and less guarded. “You’re infuriating.”

“And yet,” I say, grabbing the tray out of the oven, “here you are, baking cookies with me instead of burying your nose in boring files.”

Draco watches me for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, quietly, he murmurs, “Maybe it’s not so bad.”

I glance at him, surprised by his admission, but I don’t press him further. Instead, I transfer the cookies from the tray to a plate with a grin. “That’s the spirit.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, seeming less intense than a moment ago. “Alright, well you’ve got your cookies. Ready to start now? I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

I nod, my smile fading slightly as the weight of our task settles over me again. “Yeah, let’s get to it.”