The Back Way
“Hey, wake up,” Draco says gently, nudging me. “I don’t want you to miss breakfast before classes.”
I groan, only halfway awake. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s not Hannah getting me up for once, it’s Draco. I don’t know why I’d expect him to yank off the blankets or dump water on my head or something, but I’m glad he isn’t.
“What time is it?” I ask groggily.
He glances at the clock, absentmindedly letting his thumb draw little circles over my shoulder. “Seven.”
“Class doesn’t start for another two hours, Dray,” I whine. “Let me go back to sleep.”
He laughs softly, moving the arm I threw over my forehead off my face. “You need to get ready, Lavigné. You don’t even have all your things here, you probably need to stop at your dorm.”
“Five more minutes,” I grumble, burrowing deeper into the blanket, my voice muffled against the pillow.
“Not happening,” he replies, his tone soft but insistent. I feel him shift beside me, the bed dipping slightly as he moves to sit up.
I crack one eye open, groaning in protest. “You’re cruel.”
Draco smirks, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “I prefer ‘motivational.’ Now, come on.”
I sigh dramatically but push myself into a sitting position, my oversized sleeve slipping over my hand. Draco doesn’t comment on the fact that I’m still fully wrapped in his sweater and sweatpants, but I catch the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Your hair’s a mess,” he teases lightly, grabbing the brush from his nightstand before I can protest.
I blink at him, half-dazed. “You keep a hairbrush?”
He rolls his eyes, settling behind me. “I have standards, Lavigné. Now hold still.”
The brush glides through my hair with surprising gentleness. His movements are methodical, his fingers occasionally grazing the back of my neck as he works through the tangles. It’s oddly calming, and I find myself leaning into his touch without realizing it.
“You’re weirdly good at this,” I mumble sleepily.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” he replies, but his voice is softer than usual, almost fond.
When he finishes, he sets the brush down and stands, offering me his hand. “Come on, up you go.”
I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. He doesn’t let go right away, his steady grip guiding me toward the door.
“You don’t have to walk me,” I murmur, though I don’t really mean it.
He shrugs, smirking faintly. “Who else is going to make sure you don’t fall asleep on the stairs?”
“Fair point,” I admit, following him as he leads me through the quiet corridors of the castle.
As we approach the Hufflepuff dorms, I glance down at his clothes, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I probably look. “You’re really letting me walk around like this?”
“Of course,” he says, unfazed. “Someone has to get the rumor mill running.”
I shoot him a half-hearted glare, but his casual confidence makes it impossible not to smile.
When we reach the entrance, he pauses, leaning casually against the wall. “Go get ready. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
I hesitate, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Thanks, Dray.”
He smirks, but there’s something softer in his eyes. “Anytime, little badger.”
I watch as he strides away, twirling my ring on his finger. I’ve noticed he does that almost every time we part, and something about it just makes me feel appreciated, like he wants to have some part of me around him all the time.
I open the barrel door to the common room expecting it to be empty, but of course, with my luck, about a dozen heads turn to look at me.
Spectacular.
“Well, look who’s here,” Elliot says, exchanging glances with his sixth year friends. “Do tell, what is it that you’re wearing?”
I close the door behind me, feeling my face heat up. “Just… clothes.”
Evelina Snugglewick, a girl from my year, raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Who’s clothes?”
“They’re, uh—mine now,” I stammer out. “Don’t worry about it.”
Perched on the edge of our coffee table, Crispin Larkspur chimes, “And who did they belong to originally? Because those swallow you.” He swirls the tea in his mug, taking a contemplative sip.
“It’s not important—” I start, before Iris Dapplewick gasps, drawing everyone’s attention. “Oh my Merlin! The rumors are true, aren’t they? You were with Malfoy last night!”
A few of the boys whistle, while most of the girls look around at each other and laugh. I take a step back, overwhelmed by the sudden interrogation. “I wasn’t—nothing happened! It wasn’t like that,I—”
“I knew something was up between you two,” Crispin grins, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. “First, he stops insulting you. Then there’s that weird tension in potions and he doesn’t mess with first years anymore. And now this? It all makes sense!”
Elliot leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees with a teasing grin. “So, you and Malfoy? Seriously? What happened? Did you sneak into the dungeons or something?”
“I didn’t sneak anywhere!” I snap, but my flustered tone only adds fuel to the fire.
Evelina, now entirely abandoning her knitting, gasps even louder. “She didn’t come back to the dorm last night! I checked!”
This sends the room into chaos, a mix of gasps and whispers rippling through the group.
“I knew it!” Iris exclaims, clapping her hands together in delight. “This is gold. Our little Beauxbatons Puff and Slytherin’s prince? I didn’t see that coming!”
Crispin takes a sip of his tea and smirks. “What’s next? A romantic breakfast in the Great Hall? Should we expect him to come waltzing in here to hand-deliver you a cup of tea?”
I groan, tugging at the hem of Draco’s hoodie in frustration. “It’s not what you think! I didn’t—there was no—nothing happened!”
Elliot chuckles, exchanging a knowing look with Crispin. “Yeah, sure. You just ‘accidentally’ ended up in Malfoy’s clothes. Happens to everyone, right?”
Iris grins mischievously. “Come on, just admit it! We won’t judge you—well, not much.”
Suddenly it feels like I’m drowning in the teasing, my heart racing as the warmth of the common room suddenly feels stifling.
Finally, Evelina, who had been silent for a moment, steps forward with her hands on her hips, a sly smile on her face. “Alright, everyone, leave her alone. She doesn’t have to explain anything to us.”
Relief floods through me—until Evelina tilts her head and adds, “But for the record, I totally knew it.”
The entire room bursts into laughter and cheers as I start walking to my dorm, my face beet red. This is not how I wanted my morning to start.
Even worse, if this rumor gets around, what does that mean for me and Draco? We’re definitely being watched, and if this gets back to our parents or the death eaters, I honestly have no clue how that will affect us.
Will they support it because they want us to marry? Will they crucify us for embarrassing them? What if they think we’re getting too close and start to get suspicious that we know more than we’ve let on?
I stop at the base of the staircase to the girls’ dormitories and lean against the cool stone wall, trying to steady my breathing.
It’s not just me I have to worry about. They’d use Draco against me in a heartbeat. They’d punish him if they thought it would make me behave. I don’t think I could live with myself if he were hurt—or worse—because of me.
Because I love him.
The thought settles like a weight in my chest. It’s suffocating and terrifying and yet so undeniable. I love him, and I’d do anything to protect him—even if it means lying, sneaking around, or pretending nothing’s happening between us.
I shake my head and force myself up the stairs. The dormitory is empty—my friends must already be in the Great Hall. Good. I don’t think I could handle more questions right now.
I strip off Draco’s hoodie and pull on a fresh set of robes, but my thoughts won’t quiet. How did things get this complicated? A few months ago, Draco and I couldn’t be in the same room without wanting to hex each other. Now, I can’t imagine my life without him.
And what scares me the most is that I think he feels the same, even if he hasn’t admitted it.
I glance at the window, the soft morning light spilling into the room. I can’t stay here. I need air, time to think, to figure out what to do next.
Slipping out of the dormitory, I take the back way out of the Hufflepuff common room, avoiding the main corridors where everyone will be heading to breakfast. The cool stone hallways feel quieter, emptier, and I’m just starting to breathe easier when I round a corner—and nearly run straight into Headmaster Dumbledore.
“Ah,” he says, his twinkling blue eyes catching mine. “Good morning, Miss Lavigné.”
I freeze, unsure of what to say. Does he know? Did someone tell him? Dumbledore always seems to know more than he should.
“I trust you’re well?” he asks, though there’s a pointedness in his tone that makes my stomach twist.
“Y-yes, Professor,” I manage. “How are you this morning?”
He smiles fondly, studying me. “I’m doing well, thank you. Though I am quite tired. I had a restless night’s sleep, you see.”
I tilt my head slightly, surprised at how open he is. I’m even more surprised that I have a gut feeling that I should be open with him, too. I adjust my bag on my shoulder, subconsciously playing with the chain around my neck. “I know what you mean. I have a hard time sleeping most nights, too.”
“But not last night,” he states, not like a question at all, like he knows. “You seem well rested.”
I feel my face heat up a little though I try to mask it, swallowing. “Yes, sir. I’ve noticed I’m much less anxious after spending time with certain people.”
He hums softly, his gaze never leaving mine, as though he’s reading more than my words. “It’s good to have people who ease your anxieties, Miss Lavigné. Cherish them. They are rarer than you might think.”
I blink, caught off guard by his sincerity. For a moment, I wonder if he’s speaking generally or if he knows exactly who I’m talking about.
His eyes twinkle faintly, but there’s a weight in his tone as he continues, “However, such connections often come with challenges. They may bring us clarity, but they also lead us to choices that cannot be ignored.”
I tilt my head slightly. “Choices?”
He nods slowly, as though considering something. “It’s curious, isn’t it? How often we find ourselves at crossroads, faced with choices that may ripple far beyond what we can see.”
My heart skips a beat. Does he know? About me and Draco? About the bond?
“Sometimes,” he continues, his gaze piercing yet kind, “those choices are not entirely our own. Yet they shape us all the same.”
“I—I don’t understand,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
He smiles faintly, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps not yet. But you will, Miss Lavigné. You will.”
With that, he steps aside, gesturing for me to continue down the hall. I hesitate, wanting to ask him more, but the weight of his words keeps me silent.
As I walk away, my mind races. What did he mean? Was it just Dumbledore being cryptic, or does he know about the bond? About our parents’ plans?
And if he does, whose side is he on?
I want to look behind me, to see what he’s doing, but I don’t think I should. Instead, I pull out a compact, casually angling it so I can see over my shoulder. Sure enough, Dumbledore is still there, watching me walk away with a sullen, contemplative expression.
I’m hit with a feeling I can only name as my intuition, telling me exactly what I fear. I think he knows. I just don’t know how much, and somehow that’s worse.
~
As I walk into the Great Hall for breakfast, I’m quickly faced with two realities: everyone is staring at me, and Aurélien is sitting in our usual spot. I’m not sure which is more intimidating, but of course, I get to deal with both at the same time.
I sit down next to him, giving him a nervous smile. “Good morning,” I say softly, shooting Hannah a look.
“Good morning, soleil,” Aurélien replies, his voice low and warm. The nickname—a familiar comfort from home—lands like a soft touch on my frayed nerves. He smiles, but there’s a distinct gentleness to it, a tiredness in his expression that contrasts with the usual spark in his eyes.
Even so, I’m grateful. Grateful that he’s speaking to me again. Maybe our conversation yesterday really did get through to him.
He exhales deeply, and the subtle sound pulls my focus back to him just as he places a hand over mine on the table. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles against the back of my hand, grounding me. “I missed you,” he says, his tone so genuine that it pulls at my heart strings.
“I missed you more,” I murmur, just loud enough for him to hear, though I can’t quite meet his gaze.
For a while, we eat in a comfortable silence, the air between us noticeably lighter than it’s been in days. Most of the tension has faded, but not entirely. There’s still a lingering edge, a thread of something unsaid.
I’m acutely aware of Draco’s gaze drilling into the back of my head from across the hall—he doesn’t even try to hide it. But I don’t turn around. I already know the look he’s giving me. That classic blend of irritation and jealousy he tries to mask but never quite succeeds at.
This time, though, I don’t try to soothe him, to explain myself or make excuses. Draco and I are on good terms—perfectly good, even—but that doesn’t erase the fact that I’ve let things with Aurélien slip. It’s time to repair the damage, no matter how complicated it makes everything else.
Aurélien clears his throat, breaking my train of thought. He shifts slightly in his seat, angling toward me with a curious expression. “So…” he starts, his tone careful but light, “how was your party last night?”
I freeze.
The casual question hangs in the air, and for a moment, I can only stare at him. I hadn’t mentioned the party on purpose, knowing exactly how he’d react. The implications alone would have sent him into a tirade just a couple days ago. But now, his expression is unexpectedly calm. Not angry, not upset. Just… curious.
“It was fine,” I manage, though my voice wavers ever so slightly. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from over-explaining. “Nothing crazy like the parties back home.”
He chuckles, the sound soft and low, though the smile on his lips doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I do recall you skipping class for a day or two after those.”
The corners of my mouth twitch at the memory, and despite myself, I let a smile break through. “Not my brightest moments, that’s for sure.”
He studies my face for a beat longer than feels comfortable, and I know without question what’s running through his mind. But he doesn’t press me, doesn’t ask the questions I half expect him to. Instead, he just nods and turns back to his plate, letting the quiet settle around us again as he half listens to the conversations buzzing at the table.
Oddly enough, I wish he’d push me. I wish he’d question me, if only to give me a momentary distraction from the storm brewing in my head. Professor Dumbledore’s cryptic words loop endlessly in my mind, intertwining with the whispers spreading through the castle and… Draco.
Draco, who I can’t seem to stop thinking about no matter how hard I try.
The weight of the realization crashes over me again: the Death Eaters could use him against me. If I stay close to him, if I keep letting myself care for him as deeply as I do, I’ll be putting him in danger. And as much as I crave his presence—his warmth, his sharp wit, the unspoken security he gives me—I can’t keep doing this. I can’t risk it.
I know what I have to do, and the thought alone is enough to make my chest ache.
I have to pull away.
The decision feels like a lead weight in my stomach, one I’ll carry for who knows how long. I already hate it, but I don’t see another choice. For now, though, I throw myself into the one thing that might keep me afloat: fixing things with Aurélien. Maybe, if I focus on that, it’ll distract me from everything else. Maybe.
So when I feel Draco’s gaze burning into me from across the hall, when I know his jealousy is bubbling just under the surface, I don’t look at him. I don’t offer any reassurances or subtle comforts. I just ignore him entirely, and it feels like a betrayal of everything I’ve said to him, of every promise I’ve made since the first meeting at his manor.
Just making the decision is eating me up with guilt, but I know I’d feel worse if something happened to him because of me. So even though it hurts, I’m already trying to pull away, despite how entirely unnatural and cruel it feels.
But the worst part?
I think he already knows.