The Pact

It’s been a long and lonely Sunday with me avoiding Draco. I can’t handle talking much to anyone else either, so I’ve just retreated within myself, trying to stay distracted. Unfortunately for me, though, it’s not really going well.

The studying route is definitely not working—I can’t even focus on the texts I’m supposed to be reading—so I’ve given up on that. Instead I think I’m going to try dancing for a little while in the ROR while everyone else is off at Hogsmeade.

I make my way through the corridors, weaving in between stray students under a disillusionment charm (that actually worked this time, go figure), until I get up to the seventh floor. After one last glance over my shoulders to make sure no one is around, I duck inside.

Unsurprisingly, the meeting table and the grand piano are gone, leaving just the ballet studio I’ve become so familiar with. I suppose the room of requirement just knew I’d be alone, and I can’t decide if that knowledge makes me feel more lonely or seen.

As I set my things down, I notice a small box on top of the record player. Upon closer inspection, it’s wrapped neatly with a little bow, and there’s a small note underneath it. When I see the handwriting, I immediately know who it’s from.

Draco.

Inside the box is a bracelet, simple and elegant, with a faint magical shimmer that suggests enchantment. My breath catches as I pick it up, the metal cool against my fingers. I set it down carefully and reach for the note, my heart pounding as I unfold the parchment.

The handwriting is unmistakably his—neat but slightly slanted, with the occasional heavy stroke where his quill must’ve pressed too hard.

“Lavigné,

I don’t know why you’re upset with me. If it’s something I said or did, tell me, and I’ll fix it. I swear.

This probably isn’t the most… conventional way to apologize, but I’m not great with words, so maybe this can say what I can’t. The bracelet is charmed—I have one, too—so when you tap yours, I’ll feel it, and when I tap mine, you’ll feel it. You don’t even have to answer me. Just let me know you’re still there.

-Draco”

I read the note twice, the weight of his words settling over me. The faint ache in my chest that I’ve been ignoring all week feels sharper now, as if the distance I’ve put between us is finally catching up to me.

My fingers trace over the bracelet again, hesitant. The enchantment is subtle but clever—a way to reach out without saying anything at all.

I slip it on carefully, as if I’m afraid it’ll break. The gesture is so small, but so incredibly soft and sweet, and the weight of his affections for me settles over the room like a blanket. My stomach is torn up with guilt once more, and I can’t help but sink to the floor, feeling terrible.

It’s for his own good, I remind myself. To keep him safe.

But even then, I can’t help but think about what Blaise said. He’d rather have you than whatever shield you’re trying to put up. Is that true? Have I become as important to him as he is to me?

I chew on my lip, deciding between tapping it or waiting. Everything in my body is telling me to tap it, a million times over if I have to, until I feel his response. I need him like air, and my body is craving it worse than ever.

Finally I give in, tapping it three times. I wonder if he’ll know what it means.

When I was little, I came up with a secret code with my father. We’d say, “1, 2, 3,” and we both knew it meant, “I. Love. You.” I don’t remember how or why we came up with it, but it stuck for years. It’s only recently that we’ve dropped it altogether.

Suddenly, I feel it. Tap. Tap. Tap. Right on my wrist, short and subtle.

A shaky breath escapes me as I stare at the bracelet, my heart pounding in my chest. He copied me. Maybe he didn’t know the meaning behind the taps, but it doesn’t matter—he answered.

I swallow hard, the weight of his response heavier than I expected. It’s like he’s reaching out to me, silently saying he’s still here, still waiting, even after I’ve spent days pushing him away.

Another set of taps comes, softer this time. Tap. Tap. It’s hesitant, unsure, as if he’s testing the waters. I close my eyes, biting my lip to stop the tears threatening to spill over.

What am I doing? How can I keep him at arm’s length when everything in me is screaming to close the distance?

My fingers hover over the bracelet again, trembling. Maybe Blaise was right—maybe this isn’t just about keeping Draco safe. Maybe it’s about keeping myself safe too, from everything he’s started to mean to me.

But when I feel another tap, this time a single one, I know I can’t ignore him.

I tap back once, my movements automatic, and before I can overthink it, I tap three more times: 1, 2, 3.

Almost instantly, there’s a pause, then an answering flurry of taps in quick succession, too many to count. A breathless laugh bubbles out of me, unbidden, as I feel the warmth behind the gesture.

It’s his way of saying he gets it—or maybe of teasing me, in that infuriatingly charming way only Draco can manage. His way of telling me I’m being ridiculous or stupid or a thorn in his side like I always am. Either way, it feels like him. And for the first time in days, it feels like I can breathe again.

Still clutching the bracelet, I let my head rest back against the studio wall, staring at the ceiling. I know I can’t avoid him forever. Maybe I can’t avoid him at all.

But for now, this is enough. Just this—three taps, and knowing he’s still there.

I smile to myself as I imagine him smacking his bracelet a thousand times over, that little flurry probably his way of saying he’s mad at me, even though we both know he can never stay mad. At anyone else, sure, but not at me.

Maybe this is how I keep us safe. Together, but from a distance.

I pull out a piece of parchment and a quill, starting to jot down a note to leave here. I’m almost certain he’ll come back, knowing him.

“Draco,

Thank you. But for now, this is for the best. I’ll explain eventually, but not yet. You’ll understand later, I promise.

I had an idea, so if you’re open to it:

“Are you okay?” – 1 tap, pause, 1 tap

“I’m here.” – 4 slow taps

“Meet me.” – 2 quick taps, pause, 2 quick taps (like footsteps)

“Danger.” – 5 sharp taps in rapid succession

“Yes.” – 1 single tap

“No.” – 2 single taps

“Wait.” – 1 long press/tap

“Later.” – 2 taps, pause, 1 tap

“I need you.” – 4 quick taps

“Trust me.” – 2 slow taps, pause, 2 more slow taps

“Thank you.” – 3 quick taps, pause, 1 slow tap

“Sorry.” – 1 slow tap, followed by 3 rapid taps

“Miss you.” - 2 slow taps

If you get this, let me know. Until then… I just need you to trust me, Dray.

-Y/N”

I fold up the parchment and place it right where he left the note for me, picking myself up off of the floor to do what I came here to do: dance.

The familiar music fills the studio as I set the record spinning, my body already falling into the routine I’ve practiced a hundred times before. The movements feel like second nature, fluid and instinctive, but tonight there’s a heaviness in my chest that I can’t seem to shake.

With each pirouette, each leap, I try to drown out the thoughts swirling in my head—the guilt, the longing, the ache of keeping my distance from him. The enchanted bracelet is a weight on my wrist, both grounding and distracting, as if it’s tethering me to something I can’t bring myself to face.

I let the music guide me, pushing harder, faster, trying to lose myself in the rhythm. But no matter how much I stretch or spin, his note echoes in my mind.

“Just let me know you’re still there.”

I land a final arabesque, breathless and flushed, and look at myself in the mirror.

Blaise was right… I do look awful. It’s like my body is rejecting any form of beauty or happiness without Draco in my life. It’s terrifying, but honestly, it’s almost… poetic in a way, isn’t it?

~

I sit in the library, in the very back corner. This solitary armchair is where I once found Draco curled up when we were fighting. It’s become a safe space for me, knowing he’s been here. That his essence lingers even when he isn’t around.

As I stare at the pages of one of my textbooks, I feel it—a soft signal against my skin.

Tap tap tap. Tap. “Thank you.”

There’s a pause, and then another signal.

Tap. Tap. “Are you okay?”

My chest tightens. Of course, he’d ask. That’s just like him, isn’t it? Always digging beneath the surface, even when I’m trying to keep things buried.

I hesitate, running my fingers over the bracelet. After a moment, I reply with two slow taps: “Miss you.”

Another pause, and I hold my breath, waiting for a response. It doesn’t come right away, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s hesitating too.

Finally, he responds.

Tap tap. “Miss you.”

I smile despite myself, feeling the bracelet against my skin. I didn’t think he’d ever admit to missing me, and certainly not this way… but it gives me butterflies.

Then, I feel it again. Tap tap. Tap tap. “Meet me.”

My smile dissipates, replaced with a sinking feeling in my chest. Of course I want to meet him… I miss him desperately. But I just can’t, and it hurts me more than it probably hurts him.

I bite my lip, debating what to say. I settle on three phrases. “No,” “Sorry,” and, “Trust me.”

I adjust the bracelet on my wrist, leaning back against the chair. My head is swimming with guilt, but I know this is the right thing to do.

The sound of footsteps makes me glance up, my heart stopping as Draco turns the corner. His hair is slightly mussed, his tie loosened, and he’s looking down ant his bracelet with a frown. But then he looks up, and the moment his eyes lock onto mine, I freeze.

He stops in his tracks, blinking in surprise. “You’re… in my spot.”

His voice is quiet but carries a familiar teasing edge, as though he’s trying to lighten the tension.

I don’t respond. Words fail me as my emotions bubble to the surface. Instead, I stand and close the distance between us. Before he can say another word, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

For a moment, he stiffens, as if unsure what to do. But then his arms slowly come up, holding me with the same quiet intensity that leaves me breathless.

Against everything my logical side tells me, I can’t stop myself. I squeeze him tighter, desperately, as I whisper, “I’m not mad. I promise.”

I linger for just a second longer than I should, then pull away, not daring to look at him. My throat is tight, and I know if I stay, I’ll break.

As I step back, I turn to leave, but his hand catches my wrist, firm but not forceful.

“Wait,” he says, his voice low but steady. “You don’t get to do that.”

I freeze, staring at the floor. “Do what?”

“This,” he says, gesturing between us. “Push me away, then pull me back just enough to keep me here. You’re driving me mad, Lavigné.”

I swallow hard, unable to meet his eyes. “Draco, I—”

“No,” he cuts me off, his tone sharper now. “You hugged me like you missed me. You said you’re not mad. So why are you still avoiding me?”

The truth lodges itself in my throat, too dangerous to voice. “It’s… complicated.”

His grip on my wrist doesn’t loosen, but his voice softens, almost pleading. “Then uncomplicate it. Please. Just talk to me.”

I finally force myself to meet his gaze, and the vulnerability in his stormy gray eyes makes my chest ache. He looks… tired. Like the weight of whatever he’s been carrying is finally catching up to him.

“It’s not that simple,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing with you ever is,” he replies, a wry, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

His words break something in me. I take a shaky breath, pulling my wrist from his grasp. “I’m trying to protect you,” I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

He blinks, clearly startled. “Protect me? From what?”

“From everything,” I whisper. “From me. From… all of it.”

Draco stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, his voice drops, low and intent. “I don’t need protecting, Lavigné. Least of all from you.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he takes a small step closer, cutting me off. “You think avoiding me is helping? It’s not. If anything, it’s worse.”

My throat starts to feel tight, and I shake my head. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “Because whatever you’re doing, it’s hurting both of us. And I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending it doesn’t.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and I realize he’s not going to let me leave without giving him something.

“I… I can’t explain everything,” I say finally, my voice trembling. “But please, just trust me when I say it’s for the best.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re asking me to trust you, but you’re not trusting me with whatever this is. How is that fair?”

“It’s not,” I admit, the hopelessness in my voice evident. “None of this is fair.”

For a moment, he looks like he might say something else, but then he sighs, the fight draining out of him.

Draco stiffens, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll wait. But don’t think for a second that I’m giving up.”

I nod, avoiding his eyes as I step back. “I know.”

As I turn to leave, I feel the bracelet on my wrist buzz lightly, and I can’t help but glance back at him.

“Three taps,” he says quietly, his eyes sad. “I think I know what you meant now.”

My breath catches, but I don’t respond. Instead, I tap the bracelet three times and head towards the door, knowing I’m leaving a piece of myself behind.

I feel him watching me as I walk away, and I hesitate, my steps faltering. What am I doing? I really don’t know if avoiding him is the way to solve anything, but the thought of something hurting him is completely unbearable. But even then… I’m hurting him now, and I can’t decide if that’s worse.

I try to think of it the other way around. I’d completely crumble if he were avoiding me to protect me, but for my own reasons. It would eat me up inside to know he was putting himself in harms way—physically or emotionally—for my sake.

As that thought crosses my mind, I stop in my tracks, and something just clicks.

Oh.

Oh.

I turn around slowly to face him, and the worry on his face tells me everything. He’s not upset that he doesn’t have me. He’s upset I don’t have him, because he knows he’s my safe space. My comfort. My peace.

Does he…? No, he can’t possibly care for me in the way I do for him. He can’t love me. There’s no way.

Right?

I study his shoulders, how tense they are, and the dullness of his hair. He looks exhausted and terrified all at once, and I’m reminded of that night I comforted him from his own subconscious.

He trusts me so openly, so completely, that I feel terrible for not telling him what I’m doing. According to every single person around us, he’s not the type to trust anyone period. I can’t help but feel like I’m taking advantage of that.

I step closer to him slowly, and I watch the emotions flicker across his face rapidly—confusion, worry, desperation. I feel the anxious knot in my stomach that I’ve gotten so used to these last few days, and I’m hit with another realization that it hasn’t been completely mine.

Everything has felt more intense and hopeless because I’ve been feeling double. We both look terrible because we’ve been feeling it twice as deeply, and I think back to what Hermione said about the pact—if one of us goes down, the other goes down, too. Is that why—

Draco gently pulls me behind a bookshelf and wraps me up in his arms, completely quieting my mind.

Draco’s arms encircle me tightly, grounding me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. For a moment, I can’t move, can’t speak, as the storm of emotions swirling between us settles into something calmer, quieter. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t demand an explanation, doesn’t ask why I’m standing here when I should’ve walked away long ago. He just holds me, like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

I breathe in sharply, the faint scent of his cologne stirring something deep inside me. The tension in his shoulders feels like it’s bleeding into mine, and I suddenly realize how heavy it must have been for him to carry this alone, even if he didn’t fully understand it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whisper finally, the words barely audible. My voice wavers, but I don’t pull back.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his grip on me tightens, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

After what feels like an eternity, he murmurs, “Neither do I.”

His honesty sends a pang through my chest. I lean into him, letting my forehead rest against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

Draco shifts slightly, pulling back just enough to look at me. His grey eyes are searching, piercing through every wall I’ve tried to build between us. “Then stop,” he says quietly, his tone firm but not unkind. “Stop apologizing. Stop running. Just… stay.”

His words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable, and I feel the weight of them settle over me. “Draco, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice softer now. “Don’t overthink it. Don’t try to explain it away. Just… tell me what you’re feeling. Right now. No riddles, no codes. Just… tell me.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight. How can I possibly put it into words? The way my chest aches when I see him, the way my stomach twists every time I think about losing him, the way I feel like I’m suffocating when I’m not near him.

“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I worry that...” I pause, trying to find a way to string my thoughts together. No riddles. Just tell him.

I take a shaky breath, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. “I care about you. A lot. Probably way too much,” I start, chewing on my lip. “I’m scared they’ll use you against me. Or to get to me. And I don’t know what that could mean yet, but I know I’d do anything I was told if it meant you’d be okay.”

Draco’s expression shifts, a flicker of something soft and unreadable crossing his face. For a moment, he says nothing, and I fear I’ve said too much. The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged, until he finally speaks.

“And you think avoiding me will protect me?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it—hurt, frustration, maybe even disbelief. “That shutting me out will make any of this easier?”

I flinch, the weight of his words hitting me like a blow. “I don’t know what else to do,” I admit, my voice cracking. “I thought… I thought if I distanced myself, maybe I wouldn’t care so much, and if I didn’t give them anything to hold over me, you’d be safer. That you wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. But obviously its not working.”

Draco leans closer, his grey eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “You don’t get it, do you?” he says, his tone softening slightly. “I am in the crossfire. I’ve been in it for a long time—long before you came along. And I’m not scared of them. What scares me is losing you.”

My heart skips a beat, and I can feel the tears threatening to spill over. “Draco—”

“No,” he interrupts gently, shaking his head. “Let me finish.” He hesitates, his jaw tightening as he struggles to find the words. “I know what it’s like to be a pawn, to feel powerless. And I know what it’s like to care about someone so much it hurts.” His voice dips, quieter now. “But shutting me out? That’s worse than anything they could do to me.”

The sincerity in his voice shatters the last of my defenses. “I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper, the confession tumbling out before I can stop it. “But I don’t know how to keep you safe. I don’t know how to do this.”

Draco’s hand moves to cup my face, his touch gentle but firm. “Then stop trying to do it alone,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere, Lavigné. Not unless you tell me to.”

I shake my head, tears spilling over as I lean into his touch. “I can’t.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Because I don’t think I could.”

For a moment, the tension between us eases, replaced by something quieter, something warmer. I feel the weight of his words settle over me, and for the first time in days, the knot in my chest begins to loosen. Maybe he’s right. Maybe we don’t have to face this alone.

I find myself still flooded with thoughts, my voice still laced with fear. “If people find out how close we are—”

“Then we’ll tell them to be glad we’re getting along, since we’re set to be married,” he cuts me off, quieting my fears with the stroke of his thumb. “There are other ways to deal with this. Ways that don’t involve us looking like we’re withering away.”

I shake my head. He’s not getting it. “Dray, I’m no occlumens. I’ve heard the stories… they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you if they knew how much I—”

I cut myself off, pressing my lips together tightly. He has no idea how much her unravels me with that sad puppy look on his face.

He regards me curiously, furrowing his brow. “How much you what?”

I take a shaky breath, trying to summon the courage to say what I’ve been avoiding. “How much I care about you,” I finally whisper. “Your father doesn’t want us to be close—he doesn’t want you to see me as anything more than a political tool. He made that painfully clear at your manor.”

Draco’s expression darkens at the mention of his father. “What did he say to you?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

I shake my head, not wanting to get sidetracked. “It’s not what he said—it’s what he expects. He doesn’t want you to care for me, Draco. He wants you to see me as something expendable, something to use and discard. And if he—or anyone else—realizes how much I… how much you mean to me, they’ll use it against us. Against you.”

Draco stiffens, his jaw tightening as he processes my words. “You think I don’t already know that?” he says, his voice sharp but not unkind. “You think I don’t see the way my father looks at me? The way he tries to mold me into his little soldier, his perfect heir? I’ve been dealing with that my whole life. But you—” He pauses, his voice breaking slightly. “You’re the only thing that makes any of it bearable.”

My chest aches at the vulnerability in his voice, but I shake my head again. “Dray, you don’t understand. If something happened to you because of me—if they hurt you, or worse—I couldn’t live with that. I’d rather you hate me than see you get hurt.”

He takes my hand in his, his grey eyes blazing with determination. “I could never hate you,” he says firmly. “Not now, not ever. And if you think for one second that distancing yourself is going to stop them from coming after me, you’re wrong. They’ll come after me anyway. That’s the price of being a Malfoy. But if I have to face them, I’d rather do it with you by my side than without you.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I look down, unable to meet his gaze. “I just… I don’t know how to protect you, Dray. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“You don’t have to,” he says softly, tilting my chin up with his free hand so I’m forced to look at him. “You think it’s your job to protect me, but it’s not. It’s our job to protect each other. And I’m not going to let you push me away to do that.”

His words break something inside me, and before I can stop myself, I’m clinging to him, burying my face in his chest. “I’m so scared,” I admit, my voice muffled against him. “I’m scared of losing you. Of them taking you away.”

His arms wrap around me tightly, grounding me. “You’re not going to lose me,” he murmurs. “Not to them. Not to anyone.”

Draco lets me stay there for a moment, stroking my hair rhythmically. He always knows just how to calm me down, because despite everything, it helps.

Eventually he pulls back to look me in the eye, resting his hands on my shoulders. “You have to trust me, sweet girl. Trust that I can handle this. Trust that we can handle this. Together.”

I nod slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. But then, when I fully process what he said, I just can’t help myself.

“Sweet girl?” I ask lightly, almost rhetorically. “That’s the second time you’ve called me that.”

Draco’s confidence falters, and for a split second, he looks caught—like he hadn’t even realized what he said until I pointed it out.

“I—” He hesitates, his lips parting as if to say something, but no words come out. Instead, he looks down, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t… I mean…”

I arch a brow, trying not to smile at the rare sight of Draco Malfoy, completely flustered. “You didn’t mean to say it?” I ask, my voice soft but teasing.

His gaze snaps back to mine, a flicker of defensiveness crossing his face before it melts into something closer to resignation. “No, I… I guess I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud,” he admits, almost begrudgingly.

Something about the honesty in his tone tugs at my heart. “So it just… slipped out?”

He shrugs, avoiding my gaze now, his fingers fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.”

I smile softly, my voice quieter now. “But you’ve thought it?”

His head lifts, and for a moment, his silver eyes search mine, like he’s trying to decide how much to say. Finally, he sighs, his shoulders sagging just slightly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’ve thought it.”

The vulnerability in his voice steals my breath, and I feel my chest tighten. He doesn’t say anything else, but the way he’s looking at me now—like I’m the only thing in the room, the world, even—says more than words ever could.

“Draco…” I whisper, my voice trailing off.

“It’s not a big deal,” he cuts in quickly, his tone suddenly defensive again, as if trying to deflect the weight of the moment. “It’s just… It just fits. That’s all.”

But it is a big deal. To me, at least. Because for someone like him—someone so guarded, so careful with his words—it feels like everything.

“Nope,” I say, crossing my arms with a playful smirk on my lips. “If I’m not allowed to deflect, neither are you.”

He flusters, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m not deflecting.”

“Right,” I say, dragging out the word. “Whatever. I’m just saying, if we’re using pet names now…”

Draco shakes his head, groaning. “Merlin, what have I done?”

“Dragon is too obvious,” I tease, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Maybe ice prince?”

“Call me that in public, and I’ll hex you,” he retorts, though I see the smile tugging at his lips.

I chuckle softly, playfully pushing him back. “You can’t hex me, genius.”

“I’ll punch myself then so you’ll feel it,” he replies, fully smiling now.

I roll my eyes, secretly relishing how easy things feel again. “Fine. Not a fan of that one. How about… I’ve got it! Moonbeam.”

He raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Moonbeam?”

“Cause you’re the moon to my sun,” I reply, a little more earnestly than I meant it. “That’s why we work, isn’t it?”

Draco stares at me, the skepticism in his eyes softening as my words hang between us. His smirk fades into something gentler, more thoughtful. “The moon to your sun,” he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost disbelieving.

I nod, suddenly shy under his gaze. “Yeah. You’re all quiet intensity, steady and calm—even when you’re being a pain. And me…” I trail off, shrugging. “I’m not.”

“You’re not,” he agrees immediately, his lips twitching like he’s suppressing a laugh. “I’m not calling you sunshine, if that’s what you’re angling for.”

I swat at his arm. “You’re impossible.”

He doesn’t flinch, just tilts his head, his silver eyes never leaving mine. “But it works,” he murmurs, echoing my earlier words. “Doesn’t it?”

The sincerity in his voice makes my stomach flip. He’s not teasing anymore.

“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “It does.”

Draco clears his throat, breaking the moment before it becomes too much. He glances away, but not before I catch the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks. “Moonbeam, though? Really?”

I grin, relieved to return to familiar territory. “Oh, absolutely. It’s perfect.”

“For you to annoy me with, maybe,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in his words.

“Admit it,” I say, poking his shoulder. “You secretly like it.”

He scoffs, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch again. “I’ll admit nothing.”

“Fine,” I say breezily, turning on my heel to walk away. “Just remember, you started it, sweet boy.”

“Merlin help me,” he groans behind me, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in his voice.

As I glance back, he’s watching me, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and something softer. And for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to crack the walls he’s built so carefully around himself.

I tap the bracelet twice. “Miss you.”

He looks me in the eye and taps his back. Tap tap tap.