The Pact

The study is as grand and imposing as I imagined—dark wood paneling, towering shelves lined with leather-bound books, and a massive desk that dominates the center of the room. The air feels heavy, like the walls are keeping secrets they’d rather not reveal.

Draco strides toward the desk with practiced ease, opening drawers and rifling through stacks of parchment. “Start looking for anything that mentions Blood Pacts or magical bindings,” he says, his tone brisk.

I move to one of the cabinets, carefully sifting through folders and ledgers. For a while, the only sound is the faint rustle of paper and the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath our feet.

Then, as I open a smaller drawer on the side of the desk, something catches my eye. Nestled among rolls of parchment and a silver letter opener is a small glass vial filled with a clear, shimmering liquid. I pick it up, examining it in the low light.

“Veritaserum,” I murmur aloud, turning the bottle in my hand.

Draco looks up from his pile of papers, his brows furrowing. “What are you doing with that?”

I shrug, a mischievous idea sparking in my mind. “I was just thinking… this could make things interesting.”

He arches a brow. “Interesting how?”

I hold up the vial with a grin. “Ever played 20 Questions? Under Veritaserum? Instead of trying to guess an object, it’s like a huge game of truth or truth.”

Draco stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.” I pop the stopper off the bottle, the faint smell of herbs and something metallic wafting out. “Think about it. We’re stuck here searching through your father’s files for Merlin knows how long. Why not make it a little more fun?”

He crosses his arms, leaning back against the desk. “Your idea of fun is forcing each other to answer questions we’d rather not?”

“Exactly.” I grin, holding up the vial. “What, Malfoy? Afraid I’ll ask something you can’t handle?”

His eyes narrow, a challenge sparking in them. “Fine,” he says after a pause, his voice low and deliberate. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

I laugh, pouring a single drop of Veritaserum into the bottle of water on the desk and shaking it gently. “Wouldn’t want you to.”

Draco watches me, his expression unreadable again, but there’s something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe, or something deeper.

“Alright,” I say, handing him the bottle. “You first.”

He hesitates, staring at me suspiciously. After a moment he takes the bottle and drinks half of it, leaving the other half for me. “Go on, then.”

I smirk and take it from his hands, our fingers brushing lightly. I chug the other half, wiping my mouth when I finish. I can feel the potion sticking itself to the roof of my mouth, and the taste isn’t pleasant in the slightest, but I choose not to make a fuss over it.

“Do you want to start or should I?” I ask him, going back to some of the papers I was looking through.

Draco leans back against the desk, his arms crossed, watching me with an expression that’s a mix of intrigue and challenge. “I’ll start,” he says after a pause, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

I hum in response, my attention half on the papers in front of me, though I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my head.

He hesitates for a moment, then asks, “What’s your favorite color?”

I glance up, blinking at him in surprise. Of all the questions I expected, that was probably the least intimidating.

“My favorite color?” I repeat, quirking an eyebrow.

He shrugs, feigning indifference. “I realized you know mine, but I didn’t know yours.”

His admission catches me off guard, and I feel a small smile tugging at my lips. For once, he’s letting his guard down, even if just a little.

“It used to be blue, but now it’s forest green,” I say, setting the papers down and meeting his gaze.

His brows raise slightly. “Forest green?”

“Yeah.” I lean back in my chair, but my throat tightens slightly as I add, almost too quickly, “It reminds me of you.”

The words are out before I can stop them, and I immediately regret it. My cheeks burn, and I hurriedly pick up a stray piece of parchment, pretending to be engrossed in the scribbles on it.

Draco’s expression flickers, his usual smirk replaced by something softer, almost unreadable. He clears his throat, looking away as though my answer was nothing more than an offhand remark. “Figures,” he mutters, picking up a folder from the desk as if to distract himself.

“Figures?” I echo, tilting my head, relieved to shift the focus away from my unintentional admission.

“You’re too sentimental for your own good,” he replies, his voice teasing, but the faintest pink dusts his cheeks.

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Coming from the guy who made me eat nine cookies because he didn’t want to finish them alone.”

Draco opens his mouth to retort, but I cut him off, leaning forward with a grin. “Alright, my turn.”

He watches me cautiously as I tap my chin, pretending to think. “What was your favorite bedtime story or song when you were a kid?”

Draco blinks, clearly not expecting the question. “What?”

“You heard me,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms. “It’s only fair. I told you something personal, so now it’s your turn.”

He hesitates, his fingers idly tracing the edge of the folder in his hands. For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to deflect entirely.

Finally, he sighs. “There was this song my mother used to hum sometimes. A lullaby.”

His voice is quieter, almost wistful.

“Do you remember how it goes?” I ask softly, the playful edge in my tone giving way to genuine curiosity.

Draco shakes his head. “Bits of it. It was… calming. I think she stopped humming it after a while, though.”

Something about the way he says it tugs at my chest, but I don’t push him further. Instead, I offer him a small smile. “That’s sweet.”

He glances at me, his expression unreadable again. “Your turn,” he says quickly, shifting the focus back to me. “What’s your biggest fear?”

“Really jumping into the deep end huh?”

He smirks, shrugging as he waits for my answer. I want to say something easy, like spiders or heights, but the serum won’t let me. Instead, I blurt out, “Being lonely.”

He studies my face, making me feel naked. “Everyone is scared of being alone.”

“Not being alone,” I clarify, “being lonely. They’re two very different things, and I grew up lonely. Now I surround myself with people just hoping they’ll understand me so I can avoid that feeling again.”

Draco’s smirk fades, replaced by a look of quiet understanding. “I get that,” he murmurs, almost too softly to hear.

I glance at him, surprised. “You do?”

He hesitates, his fingers toying with the hem of his sleeve. “Yeah. Loneliness… it’s not just about being alone. It’s worse when you’re surrounded by people and still feel like you’re not really… seen.”

The vulnerability in his voice takes me aback. He rarely lets his guard down, and it makes me want to reach across the space between us. But instead, I ask, “Do you ever feel seen?”

Draco’s jaw tightens slightly, and he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he deflects. “Your turn to ask something.”

I let his avoidance slide for now, sensing he’s not ready to dive deeper into that particular truth. “Alright,” I say, tilting my head thoughtfully. “Who are the three people you trust most?”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Three people?”

I nod. “That’s what I said.”

Draco leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he considers. For a moment, I think he’s not going to answer, but then he surprises me. “My mother,” he says finally. “She’s not perfect, but… I know she’d do anything for me.”

I nod, encouraging him to continue.

After a pause, he adds, “Blaise. He’s annoying, but he’s the only one who doesn’t expect me to pretend to be something I’m not. Around him, I can just… exist.”

His honesty surprises me again, and I can’t help but smile. “That’s two.”

He narrows his eyes at me playfully. “I’m aware.”

“And the third?”

He hesitates, his gaze flickering to me for a brief moment before he looks away. “You,” he says quietly.

The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with meaning. My breath catches, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say.

“Me?” I finally manage.

Draco shrugs, though there’s a vulnerability in his eyes he can’t quite hide. “You don’t ask for anything from me. You don’t expect me to act a certain way or live up to anyone’s standards. You just… let me be.”

I feel my cheeks flush, warmth spreading through my chest. “I didn’t think you trusted me,” I admit.

He smirks faintly. “I’m under Veritaserum. Do you really think I’d admit that if it weren’t true?”

I laugh, the tension breaking slightly. “Fair point.”

Draco’s expression softens. “Alright, let’s see. I’ve got to think of one.” He pauses, seeming hesitant but asks anyway.  “What’s the deal with you and Aurélien?” He tries to sound nonchalant but the tension in his shoulders gives him away.

I freeze, the question catching me entirely off guard. My mind races as I feel the Veritaserum pressing me to answer honestly, even as my instincts scream to deflect.

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to buy time.

Draco arches a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Don’t play coy. The two of you are close—closer than most friends, I’d say. He obviously feels something for you.”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Draco’s expression shifts, his gaze narrowing slightly as though he’s trying to read my mind.

“What does he… mean to you?” he asks, his voice quieter now, but the intensity hasn’t lessened.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Aurélien is… he’s my best friend. He’s been there for me through everything. We’ve always been close, but it’s never been—” I stop myself, my cheeks heating. “I don’t think about him that way.”

Draco’s lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t say anything, waiting for me to continue.

“But,” I add reluctantly, “I overheard something recently. And he’s been acting strange… I think he has feelings for me.”

Draco leans back slightly, crossing his arms as he considers my words. “And? How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, the truth slipping out before I can stop it. “It’s complicated. I care about him, but not in the way he probably wants. And I’m terrified of ruining our friendship if I bring it up. What if things change between us? What if I lose him entirely?”

Draco doesn’t respond right away, his expression unreadable. Finally, he says, “You’re scared of losing him, but what if pretending nothing’s wrong makes it worse?”

The weight of his words settles over me, and I chew on the inside of my cheek, unsure how to respond.

“What would you do?” I ask quietly, meeting his eyes.

He hesitates, then says, “I think… I’d want to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt. At least then, there wouldn’t be any false hope.”

His voice is softer now, and something in his tone makes my stomach flip. I nod, mulling over his words, though part of me wonders if we’re still talking about Aurélien at all.

Draco clears his throat, breaking the tension. “Anyway, that’s just my take. It’s your turn to ask something now.”

As I study his features, I can’t help myself. “Is the reason you hate Aurélien so much because you’re jealous?”

Draco clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “You just had to go there,” he mutters, his tone low. He groans reluctantly. “Maybe I am jealous. But not in the way you might think.”

I tilt my head, curious. “Oh? And what way is that?”

He fiddles with the edge of a parchment, his eyes fixed anywhere but on me. “Aurélien knows you. He knows your life, your past, the things that make you laugh, and the things that hurt you. He’s been there for all of it. Meanwhile, I’m just… here. Trying to catch up.”

His admission catches me off guard, and I feel my chest tighten. “Malfoy…”

He doesn’t let me interrupt, his words tumbling out like he can’t stop them. “It’s not that I want to be him, but it’s hard not to feel… less. Like no matter what I do, I’ll never know you the way he does.”

I blink, stunned by his honesty. For someone who prides himself on keeping walls up, he’s laid everything bare. “That’s not true,” I say softly.

He finally looks at me, his gray eyes shadowed but searching. “How do you know that?”

“Because,” I begin, choosing my words carefully, “Aurélien may know my past, but you… you’re here now. You can feel what I feel, and you understand parts of me he can’t. You’re the one I’m learning to trust. And that counts for a lot.”

Draco’s expression softens, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You mean that?”

I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

For a moment, we sit in silence, the weight of the conversation lingering between us. Then, with a faint smirk, Draco leans back in his chair. “Well, you’ve got a lot to answer for now, considering I just admitted that.”

I laugh, the tension breaking. “Oh, don’t worry, Malfoy. I’ll make it worth your while. Ask away.”

“Let me think on it for a minute,” he replies softly, ruffling through papers. I follow his lead, looking through stacks of my own, until he clears his throat after a few minutes.

“I’ve got it. What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”

I stop what I’m doing to give him an exasperated look. “No fair!”

“It’s all fair game,” he replies smoothly, raising his hands in defense. “This was your idea.”

I sigh, covering my face with my hands. “You’re gonna make fun of me for it, I can just feel it.”

He chuckles, walking over to me, getting just close enough to pull my hands off my face gently. “No I won’t. Or, at least, I’ll try not to.”

I give in to the serum, but mostly to the gentle curiosity in his voice. I push my hair out of my face as I speak. “This one time, when I was like nine, I climbed onto our roof to see the stars better.”

“The roof?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Mhm. But when I got up there, one of the tiles was loose, and it slipped out from under me.”

Draco already looks like he’s holding back a laugh, so I look away, cringing at the memory. “So there I go, tumbling down the manor roof, and I grab onto the side of it, dangling there and screaming my bloody head off until one of our house elves came to save me.”

He laughs but I can tell it’s not at me, more at the story, and I can’t help but think about how wonderful of a sound it is. It’s so rare to get to see him happy like this, and it almost makes the embarrassment worth it.

“Merlin, I can’t believe you’d do something so stupid,” he chuckles, trying to catch his breath.

I groan. “That’s not even the worst part! My parents were hosting a huge gala and half their colleagues saw me dangling off the side of the roof and causing a scene. My parents were pissed and I had to sit through the gala in my messed up clothes until it was over.”

Draco’s laughter gets louder, and he leans against the desk for support, clearly picturing the scene. “You? Dangling off a roof in front of a gala full of purebloods? That’s… that’s incredible.” He shakes his head, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I can just imagine your mother’s face.”

I roll my eyes, though a smile tugs at my lips. “Yeah, she wasn’t thrilled. I think she would’ve left me up there if it weren’t for the fact that people were watching.”

He smirks, straightening up. “I’m impressed you didn’t hex yourself off the roof to save face.”

“I was nine!” I protest, crossing my arms. “And believe me, I considered it. But, you know, self-preservation kicked in.”

Draco leans forward slightly, still grinning. “Alright, I’ll admit it’s embarrassing, but it’s also… kind of brave. Not many kids would climb onto a roof just for a better look at the stars.”

I blink at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “You think so?”

He shrugs, looking back at the papers in his hand. “Sure. Reckless, obviously. But brave.”

Something about the way he says it, so casually yet genuinely, makes my heart flip. It’s not often he hands out compliments, and I can’t help but feel a little lighter for it. “Thanks… I think?”

Draco looks up again, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t get used to it.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I would never.”

We take a break from the questions for a moment, flipping through pages and drawers until I break the silence.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering for a while now.”

He looks up at me curiously, tilting his head. “Well, now’s the time I suppose.”

I take a breath, sitting criss-crossed and fiddling with my hands in my lap. “Do you think, if it weren’t for the bond, you’d still like me?”

Draco stills, his expression unreadable as he leans back against the desk. For a moment, I think I’ve made a mistake by asking, the air between us thick with tension. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair as if buying himself time to think.

“That’s… a heavy question,” he says finally, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m not sure I’ve ever really thought about it.”

I nod quickly, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “You don’t have to answer. I just—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice firmer now. “It’s a fair question.”

His gaze meets mine, and for once, there’s no smirk, no walls—just honesty. “I think… I’d still notice you. You’re not the kind of person people overlook.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You stand out,” he explains, shifting his weight as though the words are heavy on his tongue. “You’re always… doing something. Whether it’s taking the blame for someone else in Potions, sneaking off to Merlin knows where, or… climbing roofs as a kid, apparently.”

A small laugh escapes me, and he smirks faintly before continuing. “You’re kind in a way that feels… real. Like, even when you’re in a room full of people, you make the person you’re talking to feel like they’re the only one there. It’s… frustrating sometimes.”

“Frustrating?” I echo, unsure whether to be offended or amused.

Draco huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Because it’s hard to ignore. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the bond.”

My breath catches, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. His words feel like a confession in their own way, even if he won’t let himself go any further than that.

“So, you think you’d still like me?” I ask softly, needing the confirmation even if it’s unspoken.

He glances down, his fingers tracing the edge of a page absentmindedly. “Yeah,” he admits, almost too quietly. “I think I would.”

The words settle over me, warm and unshakable. I want to say something, but before I can, Draco straightens and clears his throat, breaking the moment. “What about you?” he asks, deflecting the attention. “If we weren’t tied, would you still like me?”

It’s a question I hadn’t fully considered, but as I look at him—his guarded expression softening for just a second—I know the answer without hesitation.

“Yes,” I say simply, and the weight in the room shifts.

Draco doesn’t respond right away, but his lips curve into the faintest of smiles before he turns his attention back to the papers. The silence that follows feels different—not awkward, but something quieter, deeper. Something that feels like understanding.

“That was fast,” he responds, trying to seem casual. “Seemed like you didn’t have to think about it.”

“Because I don’t,” I say thoughtfully, watching him as he busies himself with a new stack of files. “I always thought I would’ve made friends with you sooner if it weren’t for the way you acted on my first day.”

He looks up as if to respond, maybe even to apologize, but I can’t help myself from rambling. “Because if our first meeting was, say, when I came to your manor for the first time? I would’ve liked you immediately. You were so sweet and gentle with me, which is something I haven’t experienced much of.”

Draco pauses mid-motion, his fingers stilling on the edge of a paper as he glances up at me, his expression unreadable. His jaw tightens slightly, and I worry I’ve said too much, but I push on, feeling the weight of honesty pulling me forward.

“People don’t always see that side of you,” I continue softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “But I do. I know it’s there. And I think… I think I’d always be drawn to that, bond or no bond.”

His gaze sharpens, his gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away, but I hold his stare. For once, he doesn’t mask his emotions completely, and I can see the flicker of something—doubt, disbelief, or maybe even hope.

“Sweet and gentle?” he repeats, his voice low and almost self-deprecating, as though he doesn’t quite believe me.

I nod, offering him a small, earnest smile. “Yeah. Like the way you fixed me up in your room without hesitation. Or how you always stay close, even when you’re pretending not to care. And no matter how angry I make you, or how badly I mess up, you always give in and let me try to make it up to you.”

Draco exhales slowly, leaning back against the desk as his lips press into a thin line. He looks away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before finally meeting my eyes again.

“I don’t think I deserve that kind of description,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

I lean forward slightly, my voice soft but unwavering. “I do. And no matter how hard you try to change my mind, you just keep giving me more reasons to believe it.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard. The faintest crease forms between his brows as if he’s trying to puzzle out my words.

“Do I?” he questions, his voice tinged with disbelief, like the idea is foreign to him.

I nod, holding his gaze. “Like now. You’re letting me see the real you. That’s more than enough.”

His lips twitch as if he’s about to respond, but then he stops himself, letting my words hang in the air. He looks down, his fingers fiddling with the edge of a paper. The silence that follows feels charged, heavy with meaning, but not uncomfortable.

Finally, he glances back up, his voice quieter than before. “You’re persistent, you know that?”

I smile faintly. “Maybe. Or maybe I just know what’s worth holding onto.”

Something shifts in his expression—like a wall cracking ever so slightly. His lips curve into the faintest of smiles before he turns his attention back to the papers.

“You’re mental,” he mutters under his breath, but there’s no heat behind the words.

“And you’re welcome,” I reply lightly, but inside, I feel the warmth of knowing I might’ve said something that mattered.

We lapse back into silence, but it feels different now—softer, more understanding. And though he doesn’t say it, I can see in the way his posture softens, in the way his eyes flicker back to me when he thinks I’m not looking, that he’s letting my words sink in. It’s like he’s trying to reconcile who he thinks he is with who I see in him.

I start trying to think of another question that could match the weight of that one, but I fall short. Suddenly, though, I notice what looks like a folder peeking out from in between some books on the shelf.

“Malfoy,” I say gently, not wanting to startle him, “what’s that?”

He looks up at me then follows my gaze to the shelf, furrowing his brow. “I… I don’t know.”

He walks over to it, shimmying it out as I stand up, walking over to his side. He flips the folder over in his hands and what I see makes me take pause.

“Those symbols,” I start, tracing them with my fingers, “they match our runes.”

We look at each other instinctively, knowing we’ve found something important. He looks back at the books the folder was wedged between and pulls them out, reading over the titles. “Blood Rites and Magical Bonds: A History of Pact Making…” he enunciates, switching to look at the other book. “Ancient Runes and Protective Gems: Where Sacrifice Meets Practicality. This seems to be—”

“Exactly what we’re looking for,” I jump in, breathless with anticipation.

Draco nods, his fingers tightening slightly on the folder as he flips it open, scanning the first few pages. His expression grows more focused, the furrow in his brow deepening as his eyes dart across the text.

“This is definitely tied to the bond,” he murmurs, his voice low. “The symbols, the language… it’s all connected.”

I lean closer to read over his shoulder, the proximity allowing me to catch faint hints of his cologne. “It looks like whoever wrote this was researching how the pact works—maybe even how to make it stronger.”

Draco closes the folder carefully, his gaze meeting mine. “We should go through this somewhere more comfortable. The sitting room has better light.”

I nod, feeling the weight of the discovery settle between us. This wasn’t just another dead end—it felt real, tangible, like we were finally pulling on the right thread.

As we gather the folder and the books, Draco tucks them under his arm and gestures toward the door. “Come on. If we’re diving into this, we’ll need tea—or maybe something stronger.”

I follow him out of the study, the anticipation bubbling in my chest as we walk down the corridor. “I’ll stick to tea for now. Someone has to stay coherent enough to decode all of this.”

Draco smirks faintly, glancing at me as we reach the sitting room. “Fair enough. I’ll leave the heavy reading to you, then. You seem to enjoy bossing me around anyway.”

I roll my eyes, settling onto the sofa as he sets the books and folder on the coffee table. “If you want to take a nap while I solve this mystery, be my guest. I’ll make sure to take all the credit.”

He chuckles softly, sitting down beside me and opening the folder once again. “Not a chance, Hufflepuff. This is a two-person operation.”

I smile to myself as I lean forward, the flickering firelight casting shadows on the pages as we begin to dive in. For the first time in what feels like forever, it feels like we’re making progress—together.