The Pact

I’ve spent the last few days burying my head in my textbooks, desperate for a distraction from the pull to Draco. Exams are coming up so I have a reasonable excuse at least, but I can tell he’s getting more antsy by the minute.

Every time I see him I avoid him completely, even in our classes together. He keeps sending me notes and trying to stop me in the halls, but I just shove them in my bag or keep walking. The look on his face kills me every time, but it’s the only choice I feel like I have right now.

Honestly, though, I can’t help but feel like there’s some invisible force trying to make it difficult for me to avoid him. Like Wednesday, when I tried to brush past him after class, all of my books fell out of my bag. I don’t even know how, because it’s not like the bag was tilted or upside down. I swear it’s like they flew out right in front of him on purpose.

At first I thought someone had hexed me to mess with me, but I’m starting to think I just have the worst possible luck. Yesterday I tried to use a disillusionment charm on myself as I passed him so he wouldn’t see me, but the charm popped and fizzled out of my wand, actually drawing his attention. I mean, seriously?

I sigh and rub my temples, staring at the same line of text in Magical Theory: Advanced Applications for the fifth time. Across from me, Aurélien lounges in his chair, absently twirling his quill as he watches me with a sly grin.

“You look like you’re about to set that book on fire,” he teases.

I huff, flipping the page dramatically. “If it would help me focus, I just might.”

Aurélien chuckles, but his gaze sharpens. “You’ve been like this all week. Jumpy, tense… and Merlin forbid anyone brings up a certain blond Slytherin—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, my tone sharper than I mean.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, but there’s a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes. “Alright, alright. But you can’t tell me it’s nothing. I’ve seen you avoiding him like he’s the plague. What’s going on?”

I shake my head, pretending to focus on my textbook. “I told you. Exams are coming up. I’m just… distracted.”

Aurélien leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Distracted? Or cursed? Because the things I’ve seen lately…”

My stomach drops. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s start with the books that threw themselves out of your bag the other day,” he says, his tone light but his gaze unrelenting. “I saw it happen, ma chérie. That wasn’t bad luck.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off, ticking points off on his fingers. “Then there’s the charm that fizzled out right in front of him—he definitely noticed, by the way. And don’t think I haven’t seen how doors seem to swing shut on you or how your ink pot conveniently toppled over when you tried to sit as far away from him as possible.”

“It’s just bad timing!” I insist, though my voice wavers.

Aurélien gives me a long, measured look. “Is it?”

I bite my lip, my mind racing. The strange sensations I’ve felt when Draco is nearby, the way the universe seems to conspire against me whenever I try to keep my distance—it’s all too much to be coincidence. But how can I explain it to Aurélien when I don’t even understand it myself?

He leans closer, lowering his voice. “You’re hiding something. You don’t have to tell me, but you should figure it out. Whatever this is, it’s not normal. And I’m pretty sure he knows it too.”

I glance toward the library entrance, half-expecting Draco to storm in as if summoned by Aurélien’s words. But it’s quiet, save for the scratching of quills and the occasional whisper.

Aurélien sits back with a sigh, folding his arms. “Just… be careful. Whatever’s going on, you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. And I know you. That means you’re probably blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault.”

His words hit a little too close to home, and I quickly look back at my book to hide the guilt on my face.

“Thanks, Aurélien,” I mumble. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You’d better,” he says lightly, but there’s an edge to his tone. “Because if this keeps up, I might just have to intervene myself.”

The thought of Aurélien confronting Draco—or worse, my family—makes my chest tighten. I force a smile and try to focus on the text in front of me, but my thoughts are far from the library now.

“Why are you so… calm about him all of the sudden?” I ask quietly, desperate to divert his attention off me. “Just last week you would’ve punched him in the face for looking at me.”

Aurélien tilts his head, regarding me with a faint smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And you wouldn’t have dared to bring him up,” he replies smoothly, leaning back in his chair.

I don’t answer, just keep my gaze fixed on the table, waiting for him to brush off my question. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he taps his quill against his chin thoughtfully. “I have been thinking about that, though,” he says, his tone softer now. “Why am I so calm about him all of a sudden?”

I glance up, startled by his shift in demeanor. “What are you saying?”

Aurélien shrugs, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes that makes it clear he’s not as relaxed as he’s pretending to be. “Maybe it’s because, for the first time, he’s not the problem.”

His words hit me like a Bludger to the chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“It means,” Aurélien says slowly, carefully, “that I’ve noticed something change between you two. Something… I don’t think even you’ve noticed yet.”

I shake my head, panic creeping into my voice. “Nothing’s changed. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh, really? Then why are you avoiding him like he’s carrying dragon pox? And don’t tell me it’s because of exams.”

“Aurélien—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice firmer than before. “Don’t try to distract me. You’re pulling away from him, but I don’t think it’s because you want to. I think it’s because you feel like you have to.”

I freeze, the truth of his words sinking in like ice water.

He leans forward again, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “So, tell me. What exactly has Draco Malfoy done to make you this scared?”

I can’t breathe, let alone answer him. Because for once, Aurélien’s anger isn’t directed at Draco—it’s directed at me. And he’s too close to the truth for comfort.

“He hasn’t done anything,” I reply, a little too quickly. I groan, leaning forward. “It has more to do with…” I trail off, not knowing how to tell him without telling him.

Even knowing about the pact or our parents would put Aurélien in danger, and I can’t risk that. Instead, I just drop my head into my hands, searching for an excuse. “It’s just… for the best right now.”

Aurélien watches me closely, his sharp eyes narrowing at my fumbling explanation. “For the best?” he repeats, his voice laced with skepticism. “That’s not an answer, ma chérie. That’s a deflection.”

I groan again, louder this time, and rub my temples. “I know, okay? I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can’t explain. Just… trust me.”

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a deliberate slowness that makes me feel even smaller under his scrutiny. “Trust you? I do. But you’re making it really hard when you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

I lift my head to meet his gaze, desperation clawing at my chest. “Aurélien, please. Just… let it go.”

His expression softens, but only slightly. “Let it go?” he echoes. “Do you hear yourself? You’ve been avoiding him like the castle’s on fire, tripping over your own spells, and now you’re sitting here acting like this is all normal.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t just let it go. Not when it’s clearly eating you alive.”

I press my palms against the table, willing the words to come out, but nothing feels safe enough to say. I can’t tell him about the Blood Pact. Or my family’s involvement with the Malfoys. Or the way I feel a tug in my chest every time Draco looks at me, like some invisible thread is pulling me closer to him.

“It’s not about him,” I lie, my voice quiet but firm. “It’s about me. I’m… dealing with some things, and I don’t want him involved.”

Aurélien stares at me, his brow furrowing. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Yes,” I say quickly, maybe too quickly. “I promise.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but after a long pause, he sighs and slumps back in his chair. “Fine. I’ll drop it. For now.”

I nod, relief flooding through me. “Thank you.”

Aurélien doesn’t say anything else, just picks up his quill again and twirls it between his fingers. But I can feel his eyes on me, watching, waiting, as if he’s silently daring me to keep hiding whatever it is I’m not telling him.

“I mean it, Aury. He really hasn’t done anything. And if he had… well, believe me, I can handle him myself.”

Aurélien snorts, his smirk returning, though there’s still a flicker of tension behind his eyes. “Oh, I don’t doubt you could handle him,” he says, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. “You’re stubborn enough to take on a Hungarian Horntail if you wanted to. But you’re not exactly acting like someone who’s in control of the situation.”

I scowl at him, trying to ignore the way his words sting. “I am in control.”

“Really?” he asks, his tone light but pointed. “Because avoiding someone like this doesn’t exactly scream confidence.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he raises a hand to stop me. “I’m just saying, if you’re trying to convince me—or yourself—that you’ve got this under control, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”

I grit my teeth, the frustration bubbling up inside me. “Aury—”

“No, listen,” he cuts in, his voice softening. “I’m not saying you’re weak or that you can’t take care of yourself. I’m saying that whatever’s going on with you and Malfoy—whatever you’re not telling me—it’s clearly not nothing. And the more you insist it is, the more I’m going to worry.”

I stare at him, my defenses crumbling under the weight of his concern. I know he’s right—I’m not in control, not of this situation, not of myself. But admitting that feels like admitting defeat, and I can’t do that. Not yet.

“I appreciate that you care,” I say quietly, my voice barely audible. “But I’m asking you to trust me. Please.”

Aurélien holds my gaze for a long moment before finally sighing and leaning back in his chair. “Fine,” he says, though his tone makes it clear he’s not entirely convinced. “But if you need me—if things get too much or he steps out of line—you come to me. No more of this ‘I can handle it myself’ rubbish. Deal?”

“Deal,” I say, though we both know I’m not planning on following through.

He narrows his eyes at me, like he can see straight through the lie, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he picks up his quill again, twirling it absently. “You’re lucky I like you, soleil,” he mutters.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and force a small smile. “I know.”

But as I turn back to my book, his words linger in the back of my mind, intertwining with the gnawing feeling that no matter how much I try to control this situation, the Blood Pact—and whatever is tying me to Draco—is far beyond my grasp.

I clear my throat, shifting my weight in my seat. “In theory, if you knew that being close to someone could be bad for both of you, what would you do?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

Maybe the perspective of someone outside of people who know about what’s really going on will give me a better insight into what to do.

Aurélien looks up from his notes, narrowing his eyes like he knows there’s more to my question than I’m letting on. He taps his quill against the table, thinking for a moment before answering. “Depends,” he says slowly. “Bad how? Are we talking about ‘they’re a bad influence’ bad, or ‘being near them might literally kill you’ bad?”

I grimace at his bluntness. “Somewhere in the middle, maybe? Like a mix of both?” I offer, trying to keep my tone light.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “That’s a pretty wide range, you know. What are you really asking?”

I shift again, suddenly regretting bringing it up. “Just… hypothetically,” I say quickly. “If staying close to someone might put them—or you—in danger, wouldn’t it be better to stay away? Even if…” I trail off, biting my lip.

Aurélien’s expression softens, his usual teasing giving way to something more serious. “Even if it hurts to stay away?” he finishes for me.

I nod, not trusting myself to say anything else.

He sighs, tilting his head as he studies me. “I’d probably try to convince myself it’s for the best,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “That I’m doing the right thing by staying away. But… I think I’d also wonder if that’s just an excuse. If I’m pushing them away because I’m scared, not because it’s actually what’s best for either of us.”

My stomach twists, and I drop my gaze to the table. “It’s not an excuse,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. “It’s the truth.”

Aurélien leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Maybe it is,” he says gently. “But you’re not the only one who gets to decide what’s best. Whoever this is—” He stops, raising a hand when I open my mouth to protest. “Don’t even try to deny it’s about someone. A particular spoiled snake, if I’m correct. I’m just saying, he should get a say too, don’t you think?”

I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, his tone almost unbearably kind. “But whatever it is, you’ve got people who care about you. Don’t forget that.”

I nod, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. Because the truth is, I’m not just pushing Draco away—I’m pushing everyone away. And I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever stop.

~

The library empties out as the evening drags on, leaving only a few scattered students and the faint scratching of quills against parchment. Even Aury has gotten sick of me and my dark cloud energy, because he left, too… Merlin knows how long ago. I’ve been purposefully avoiding looking at the clock on the off chance I’ll convince myself to go to bed.

I’ve buried myself in a particularly dense Transfiguration text, desperate to keep my mind off Aurélien’s words, when a shadow falls over my table.

“Got room for one more, or am I interrupting your sulking?”

I glance up, startled to see Blaise Zabini standing there, arms crossed and a curious tilt to his head.

“What do you want, Blaise?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral.

He pulls out a chair and sits without waiting for an invitation, resting his elbows on the table. “Just checking in,” he says lightly. “I’ve noticed you’ve been… absent lately. From Draco, specifically.”

I stiffen, gripping the edge of my book. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Blaise gives me a knowing look, his smirk barely concealing the concern in his eyes. “Come on, Lavigné. You think I haven’t noticed? Draco’s been acting like a kicked crup all week, and he won’t stop whining about how you’re avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” I lie, turning back to my book.

“Right,” Blaise says, dragging the word out. “So it’s just a coincidence that you’ve suddenly become a ghost whenever he’s around? Not to mention he thinks you’re mad at him, and it’s practically driving him insane.”

I flinch, guilt washing over me. “I’m not mad at him.”

“Well, he doesn’t know that,” Blaise points out, his tone sharp but not unkind. “And honestly, I’m starting to wonder if you do either. What’s going on?”

I hesitate, my fingers twitching against the pages of my book. “It’s… complicated.”

Blaise leans back in his chair, studying me with a raised eyebrow. “Complicated how? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re punishing him for something he didn’t do.”

I wince, his words hitting too close to the truth. “It’s not like—”

Blaise raises his hand, cutting me off. “Don’t give me that line again. Everyone knows there’s something going on. I mean, for Merlin’s sake, you’ve completely ruined the kid. One day he hates you, the next we’re supposed to leave you alone ‘just because,’ then you’re saving him in potions like you two weren’t fighting right before it happened—yes, Theo told me about that. After that, you two are all friendly and you show up to our party, hang all over him and claim him like a clingy first year, then the next day you’re avoiding him like he’s cursed! What are you trying to do?”

I’m stunned into silence for a moment as I stare at him blankly. “I’m just… trying to do what’s best.”

“For who?” Blaise asks, leaning forward again. “Because it sure as hell isn’t what’s best for him. Or for you, from the looks of it. No offense, but you look terrible.”

It’s true, I’m sure. Despite how much his words sting, I can’t deny that I look something between sick and stressed out. I just haven’t had the energy to try to make myself look good in the mornings… or sleep much, or even eat much for that matter.

I glance away, unable to meet his gaze. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Maybe not,” he admits. “But here’s what I do understand: Draco’s not the type to get hung up on people. He’s got walls higher than the Astronomy Tower. But you? You’ve gotten under his skin, and now he’s sitting in the common room every night like a lovesick idiot trying to figure out what he did wrong.”

I bite my lip, my heart twisting painfully. I can’t help but notice his phrasing—lovesick? Is there a possibility that Draco loves me? 

I shake my head, clearing the thoughts. No. Even if he did, it would most certainly be platonic… right?

Blaise sighs, his voice softening. “Look, I don’t understand this weird codependent relationship you two have, but I know my best mate. You don’t understand what you’re doing, Lavigné. You lit something in him, and now you’re smothering the flame, and it’s killing him.”

I nod slowly, the weight of his words settling over me. Guilt twists around in my stomach making me nauseous. Blaise stands, his chair scraping against the floor.

“And Lavigné?” he adds, pausing before he leaves. “If you’re trying to protect him, maybe stop and ask yourself if he even wants to be protected. Something tells me he’d rather have you than whatever shield you’re trying to put up.”

He starts to walk away, but I quickly shoot out of my chair, running up behind him. “Blaise?”

I watch him stop and turn around, a questioning spark in his eyes. “What?”

“Can you—well, will you keep an eye on him for me? Please?”

Blaise blinks, caught off guard by the urgency in my voice. His expression softens, and he folds his arms, studying me carefully. “Keep an eye on him?” he repeats, his tone almost teasing. “What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”

I shift uncomfortably, clasping my hands in front of me. “I mean… really watch him. Just in case things get worse.”

He frowns, the playful edge slipping from his face. “Worse? Lavigné, what’s going on? You’ve been dodging him like he’s got dragon pox, and now you’re acting like he’s in danger.”

I hesitate, chewing the inside of my cheek. I can’t tell him the truth—not about the Blood Pact, not about our families. “It’s just… a feeling,” I say lamely. “And I can’t be there to look out for him right now.”

Blaise sighs, tilting his head. “You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

I shake my head, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I can’t. But please, just… promise me you’ll keep him out of trouble. Or—help him if he needs it.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Finally, he exhales and nods. “Fine,” he says. “But only because I actually like the idiot. And because you look like you’re about to fall apart.”

I manage a weak smile, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Thank you.”

Blaise steps closer, his voice dropping slightly. “For what it’s worth, you’ve got him completely twisted up. I don’t know what you’re so afraid of, but if it’s about him, he’s tougher than he looks. And if it’s about you…” He pauses, his expression softening. “You’re not as alone in this as you think.”

My breath catches in my chest, and for a moment, I feel like he’s seen straight through me. I nod, unable to trust my voice.

He steps back, a small smirk tugging at his lips again. “You owe me for this, by the way. Big time.”

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing in the empty library, feeling equal parts grateful and more confused than ever.