The Pact

The room of requirement has outdone itself with the cute little study space it’s created. The low hum of the room’s magic provides some nice white noise that drowns out my incessant thoughts about Draco, the bond, and the ball. Meanwhile, Hermione sits across from me, her quill moving rapidly over a sheet of notes as if she’s racing against the clock.

I, on the other hand, am slouched in my chair, chin resting on my palm as I lazily flip through my Charms textbook. Finals are tomorrow, but I can’t seem to summon the same level of urgency she has.

“Do you even need this class?” I ask, half-joking as I watch her scribble furiously. “You’ve probably memorized the entire curriculum already.”

Hermione doesn’t look up, but her quill pauses for just a second before resuming its sprint. “Knowing the material and mastering it are two different things,” she says pointedly. “And unless you want to botch the Switching Spells section tomorrow, I suggest you focus.”

I groan, letting my head fall onto the table with a dramatic thud. “I am focusing. I’m just… absorbing the information through osmosis.”

Hermione finally looks up, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not how osmosis works.”

I peek up at her, smirking. “Not with that attitude.”

She rolls her eyes but softens, setting her quill down and leaning back in her chair. “You know, you’re not as behind as you think you are. Your notes on Vanishing Charms were excellent.”

That catches me off guard. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course,” she says with a small smile. “You just need to believe in yourself a little more. You’ve done the work, even if you’re less… methodical about it than I am.”

I chuckle, sitting up straighter. “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever called me a hot mess.”

Hermione laughs quietly, her shoulders relaxing for the first time all evening. “Well, if it works for you…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I reply, waving her off. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know I’m not very organized. Honestly, though, I think I work best under pressure.”

She quirks an eyebrow, looking up at me with an expression I can’t quite place. “So I’m told.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask incredulously, now intrigued.

Hermione shrugs, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she taps her quill against the parchment. “Oh, nothing. Just that you seem to thrive on chaos. Like during the Quidditch match yesterday.”

I feel my face heat up instantly. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

She tilts her head, her expression knowingly curious. “Oh, I don’t know… the way Draco Malfoy flew right up to you in front of everyone and made it painfully obvious that he—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt, holding up a hand. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

Hermione crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, clearly enjoying this far too much. “It was hard to miss, you know. The entire school saw it. The way he looked at you, the spinning around… I mean, I don’t think Harry’s ever celebrated like that.”

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. He was just… caught up in the moment.”

“Oh, sure,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because Draco Malfoy is known for being overly affectionate and spontaneous in front of a crowd.”

I peek at her through my fingers, frowning. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

She grins. “Only because it’s so obvious to everyone but you.”

I drop my hands onto the table, sighing heavily. “I don’t even know what to think anymore. One minute, he’s sarcastic and annoying, and the next, he’s… I don’t know… doing that.”

Hermione’s expression softens slightly. “You like him,” she says gently, as if stating a fact rather than asking a question.

“I—” I start, but the words catch in my throat. I stare down at the open textbook in front of me, tracing the edges of the pages as I fumble for a response.

Hermione waits patiently, her quill poised but forgotten in her hand. Finally, I glance up at her and sigh. “I mean, I do, but… I don’t know. It’s… complicated. And the bond complicates things because I don’t know if it’s me or him or the magic making me feel this way.”

She gives me a small, knowing smile. “I think you liked him before the magic. After that first night at his manor that you told me about.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, pulling my legs up underneath myself. Did I? I mean, I didn’t even think about him in that way until that whole insane recital-duel situation, and that was mostly because he was protecting me.

Then again… why was he protecting me when he barely knew me? Back then I figured it was just a guilty conscience, but now, I’m not so sure.

“Maybe,” I reply quietly, still contemplating.

Hermione sets her quill down completely now, her full attention on me. “You know,” she starts, her tone thoughtful, “sometimes it’s not about when it started or even why. Sometimes it’s just about how someone makes you feel.”

I blink at her, surprised by her insight. “You’ve been spending too much time reading romance novels.”

She chuckles softly. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just been watching you two.”

That makes my stomach flip. “Watching us?”

“Don’t look so horrified,” she says, smirking. “It’s not just me. Everyone’s noticed. The way he’s different with you. And you with him. There’s something there, bond or no bond.”

I fidget with the edge of my sleeve, her words sinking in. “It just feels… overwhelming,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Like, one moment we’re arguing, and the next he’s… spinning me around in front of the entire school.”

Hermione tilts her head, a gentle understanding in her eyes. “Because he doesn’t know how to show it any other way. Draco Malfoy isn’t exactly known for being emotionally vulnerable. But actions speak louder than words, don’t they?”

I exhale shakily, leaning back in my chair. “And what about Aurélien?”

Her expression shifts, more cautious now. “What about him?”

“I mean, I don’t want to hurt him,” I say, my voice cracking slightly. “He’s my best friend, and I can’t just… ignore what I overheard. He hasn’t brought it up, but I know he feels something for me.”

Hermione nods slowly, her brows knitting together. “It’s a tricky situation. But you can’t live your life avoiding hard choices because you’re afraid of hurting someone. Be honest—with him, and with yourself.”

The weight of her words settles heavily on my chest. “You make it sound so simple,” I murmur.

“It’s not,” she replies gently. “But it’s necessary. And no matter what, you’re not alone in this. You always seem to forget that.”

I nod, chewing on my lip. Mione exhales softly, finishing her thought. “You’re a lot like Harry in that way. Always playing hero… but at the very least, you have me.”

I glance up at her, the warmth in her eyes easing some of the turmoil inside me. “Thanks, Hermione.”

She smiles softly, picking her quill back up. “Now, about those Vanishing Charms…”

I chuckle, shaking my head as I turn back to my textbook, though my mind is still far from the pages in front of me. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it.”

~

As soon as I finish my last exam, I feel a weight lift off of my chest. Thanks to Hermione, I absolutely nailed every single one, and McGonagall has given me the go ahead to take more advanced courses next semester.

As Hannah and I walk through the corridors, we hear a commotion from further down the hallway.

“What’s going on?” I ask, squinting my eyes and trying to see what’s happening through the blur of students.

Hannah shrugs, although there’s a glint in her eye I can’t quite place. “Let’s go check it out,” she replies simply, tugging me by my arm.

As we approach, the crowd parts slightly, and my heart skips when I recognize the figure at the center of it all. Aurélien stands tall and confident, holding something behind his back, his curly hair tousled and his smile brighter than usual. The surrounding students are murmuring, their excitement buzzing in the air.

“What are you doing?” I ask, a mix of curiosity and nervousness bubbling up.

Aurélien steps forward, his eyes locked on mine, and with a dramatic flourish, he reveals a bouquet of enchanted flowers that shimmer in hues of gold and silver. They twinkle softly like stars, their petals shifting in the light.

“I was waiting for you,” he says, his voice warm and teasing as ever. “I wanted to ask you something before anyone else tried to steal my chance.”

I raise an eyebrow, still unsure where this is going. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He kneels—not dramatically, but just enough to cause a wave of giggles from the onlookers—and extends the bouquet toward me.

“Would you do me the honor of going to the Yule Ball with me?” His voice softens, and for a rare moment, his usual playful confidence wavers, revealing something sincere beneath.

The corridor falls silent, all eyes on me. For a second, I can’t breathe, caught off guard by the gesture—and by the look in his eyes.

“I—” My words catch, and I glance at Hannah, who’s grinning knowingly, clearly in on whatever plan Aurélien had cooked up.

“Yes,” I finally manage, smiling despite myself. “Of course, I’ll go with you.”

The crowd bursts into cheers, and Aurélien grins, standing up and handing me the bouquet. “Perfect,” he says, leaning in slightly so only I can hear. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling wider. “We’ll see who’s stuck with who,” I tease back, though my heart sinks in a way I can’t ignore.

Part of me is relieved, of course, because I wasn’t sure who to go with. Thanks to Aurélien’s ever dramatic proposal, now I don’t have to decide. But deep down… I was hoping Aury wouldn’t.

As the crowd starts to disperse, my eyes instinctively scan the corridor, and there he is—Draco, standing further down the hallway, half-hidden behind a group of Slytherins. His gaze meets mine for a fleeting moment, and something flickers across his face—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual blank expression.

Before I can even think of what to say or do, he turns sharply on his heel and walks away, his robes billowing behind him. My stomach twists, and I feel the urge to call out to him, but the words catch in my throat.

“Are you alright?” Aurélien’s voice brings me back to the present, his smile soft and warm.

I nod quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, clutching the bouquet a little tighter.

But I’m not fine. Not really. I can’t help wondering what Draco was thinking—and why, when it seems like he clearly didn’t want to ask me, it still doesn’t feel quite right that he didn’t.

“I’m going to put these up in my room,” I tell Aurélien, putting on the sweetest smile I can muster. “Thank you.”

He makes a dramatic flourish with his wrist before grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it. “But of course, mon soleil. Anything for you.”

I grab Hannah’s arm and lead her back to the dorms, my face dropping as soon as we turn the corner.

“Wasn’t that so cute?” she asks, a curious expression playing on her face.

I nod, though it’s not very convincing. “Yeah, he has a knack for things like that.”

She tilts her head, opening the common room door once we reach it. I step inside with her. “You seem disappointed. I thought you were waiting for one of them to ask you.”

“I was,” I reply, running a hand through my hair. “I just… I don’t know. I wanted Draco to ask me first, I guess.”

Hannah smiles at me reassuringly. “Maybe it’s for the best. I wasn’t getting the vibe that he was going to ask you, anyway.”

I swallow hard, trying to brush off the sting of her words. “Yeah,” I mutter, sinking onto the couch. “Maybe.”

But no matter how I try to convince myself, the truth is, I don’t want it to be “for the best.” Deep down, I wanted to believe that Draco might have asked me—that there was something unspoken between us. And now, as much as I should be happy, I can’t shake the hollow ache in my chest.

“Why don’t you think he was going to?” I ask her, trying but failing to sound nonchalant.

Hannah raises an eyebrow, clearly picking up on my tone, but she doesn’t call me out on it. Instead, she sits down beside me and shrugs. “I don’t know, really. He just… doesn’t seem like the type to do something big and romantic like that. And honestly, he’s been kind of weird lately. Like, more quiet than usual.”

I frown, staring at the enchanted bouquet on the table, its shimmering petals suddenly feeling more like a weight than a gift. “Weird how?”

She hesitates, as if choosing her words carefully. “I don’t know. He’s still Draco, obviously, but he’s been more…” She pauses, searching for the right word. “…distracted? I mean, I’m not exactly close with him, but even the others have noticed. He’s been keeping to himself more, except for when he’s around you.”

I glance at her, my heart skipping slightly at her last comment. “What do you mean?”

She gives me a knowing look. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. He’s always watching you. Not in a creepy way,” she adds quickly, “but, like, he’s… aware of you. And sometimes it looks like he wants to say something but changes his mind.”

I don’t respond right away, my mind replaying the moment in the hallway earlier—the flicker of something on Draco’s face before he walked away. Was that what she meant?

Hannah nudges me gently. “I’m just saying, maybe he thought about asking you. Maybe he’s just not great at this kind of thing. Or maybe,” she says with a teasing smile, “he was waiting for you to ask him.”

I laugh softly, though the sound feels hollow. “Draco Malfoy waiting for someone to ask him? That’ll be the day.”

Hannah shrugs again, leaning back into the couch. “Stranger things have happened. But don’t overthink it, okay? Aurélien asked you, and he adores you. Focus on that.”

I nod, but her words don’t bring the comfort they’re supposed to. Instead, I can’t stop the nagging thought that maybe Draco did want to ask me—maybe he just couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. And somehow, that thought feels worse than him not wanting to ask me at all.

“Maybe I’ll just talk to him about it. He hates when I avoid him, anyway,” I say, dropping the flowers beside me. “I don’t know.”

She shakes her head but doesn’t push the idea down. “Whatever feels right to you, Y/n. You certainly know him better than anyone else. What’s he feeling right now?”

I close my eyes, trying to separate my feelings from his, but it’s hard. It’s easier when he’s right next to me.

“I think he’s… frustrated, maybe? It’s not quite anger… but it’s not exactly sadness or anxiety, either. It’s hard to read.”

“Maybe it’s a mix of everything. How do you think he did on exams? That could be one reason,” she suggests, swinging her feet off the couch.

I shake my head. “No, I’m sure he aced them. You have no idea how smart he is.”

“Don’t tell him that, or his ego will get too big for him to walk through the door frames,” Hannah chuckles, studying me.

“Oh, I would never,” I laugh, holding up my hands in mock defense. “He’s insufferable enough as is.”

Hannah flips her hair out of her face, her cheeks pink with laughter. “Damn straight.”

While Hannah and I banter back and forth, I discreetly tap my bracelet. Tap tap. Tap tap. “Meet me.”

I wait anxiously for the response, though I don’t have to. He responds almost immediately.

Tap. Tap. “Are you okay?”

I don’t know why my heart flutters at such a simple question, but it does. I cross my legs as Hannah and I chat, simultaneously thinking about how to reply.

I settle on a phrase I haven’t used yet… and I’m not sure why I’m going to. Tap. “Yes.” I pause, settling my nerves (or his, I’m not sure yet). Tap tap tap tap. “I need you.”

I half expect him to tell me no or to wait, but he doesn’t. Instead, my heart jumps at the one code we haven’t defined on paper.

Tap tap tap.

I know that’s his way of saying yes, of saying he’s here for me, of saying a million little things all at once. But most importantly, he’s telling me he’s not mad, and that’s what matters to me.

I stretch my arms above my head before standing up, earning a curious look from Hannah. “Where are you going?”

I smirk slightly, putting my hair up in a bun using my wand as a hair stick. “To get some answers,” I reply, handing her the bouquet I’ve left lonely on the couch. “Here, keep these safe for me, okay?”

She gives me a slightly exasperated look, though she doesn’t argue. She just rolls her eyes playfully, sending me off with a quick hug and a, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I chuckle and walk out of the dorms, making my way to the room of requirement. I don’t know how I know he’ll be there, but I just have this feeling.

I climb the stairs case by case, definitely a little winded as I reach the seventh floor, but my racing heart isn’t from the exercise.

Thankfully, no one seems to be out and about right now, so I’m safe to duck into the ROR, undetected. The door slides open with a scrape and my eyes flicker over the room, scanning it. The first thing I notice is the atmosphere—charged and heavy, and the entire room has shifted around to resemble what I’d consider a cozy little reading nook.

There are a few comfortable looking couches in the middle of the room, surrounding a wooden coffee table on a plush rug. The mirror wall is gone, replaced with something much more simple and plain. A few stray bookcases line the walls, and Draco is taking full advantage of them, curled up with a novel and a stack of maybe fifteen more beside him.

“You look comfy,” I chuckle, pulling his attention away from the page he’s reading. He sits up straighter, suddenly seeming self conscious.

“You got here fast.” He pulls out a bookmark from his pocket and marks his place, definitely trying to distract himself from the subtle tinge of pink on his cheeks at my apparently surprising entrance.

I walk to the center of the room and completely breeze past the numerous other options to sit right next to him, causing him to quirk an eyebrow but he doesn’t comment on it. “How long have you been in here?” I ask, my voice soft and curious.

He shrugs. “Dunno. A little while.”

“Trying to get away from everything?” I fold my legs up under me, getting comfortable.

“Something like that,” he murmurs, running a hand over his face. “So. What did you need?” he asks bluntly, though the tenderness in his eyes gives him away.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, avoiding his gaze. “I just… wanted to talk. Check in, I guess.”

His brows furrow slightly, as if he’s not sure how to respond. Finally, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “A friendly check in, hm? How’s your perfect date?” he asks, his tone light but his words carrying an edge.

I blink, taken off guard by the sudden question. “Aurélien?” I ask, almost laughing. “He’s fine. You know how he is—he likes to put on a show.”

Draco snorts, though it’s humorless. “Yeah, I saw.”

I fidget with the hem of my sleeve, unsure how to steer the conversation. After a pause, I venture, “Who are you taking to the ball?”

For a moment, his face gives away nothing, his grey eyes fixed somewhere near the floor. Then, he exhales softly, his voice low. “Astoria.”

“Oh,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral, despite the jealousy gnawing in my stomach. “That… makes sense. She’s really pretty.”

“I guess,” he replies, waving me off.

“You guess? What, you don’t think so?”

For a split second he looks like he’s been caught, though he quickly masks it with indifference. “I mean, of course she’s pretty. I have standards.”

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to read between the lines. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the couch and avoiding my gaze. “It’s just a dance. It doesn’t really matter who I go with.”

“Then why Astoria?” I ask, tilting my head, unable to stop myself.

He hesitates, his jaw tightening slightly before he speaks. “She’s… convenient.”

“Convenient?” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement.”

Draco sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, it’s not like I had much of a choice, alright? People… expect things.”

I feel a pang in my chest, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between us. “Do you expect anything?” I ask softly.

His eyes meet mine then, sharp and searching, as if he’s trying to decide whether to say what he really wants to. Finally, he shakes his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “No,” he murmurs. “Not anymore.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just sit there, the silence between us more charged than ever.

“I missed you after the game,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “Couldn’t find you anywhere.”

I suck in a breath, feeling suddenly very tense. “I didn’t want to ruin your moment. Your fan club seemed over the moon. I figured you’d want to celebrate with them.”

He shakes his head, halfway rolling his eyes. “I’m not one for big public displays like that.”

“Really?” I ask suddenly, tilting my head. “You didn’t seem to mind the attention in the stands.”

“That was different,” he replies defensively.

I pull my knees up to my chest, hugging them close. “Why? What made it so—”

“Things are less overwhelming with you close to me,” he cuts me off, and it seems like he’s talking to himself more than to me. “I hardly noticed the crowd. It didn’t bother me then.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and unexpected. My breath catches, and for a moment, I’m not sure if I heard him right. I blink at him, my knees hugged tightly to my chest, trying to process.

“It didn’t?” I ask cautiously, my voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Draco rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable but refusing to look away. “Yeah,” he says, his tone clipped as if he’s regretting being so candid. “You have that… effect, I guess.”

My heart skips a beat, though I quickly push it aside. “That’s… sweet, I think?”

“Don’t make it a thing,” he mutters, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I was just saying.”

I bite back a smile, watching him fidget, something I’ve noticed he only does when he’s not in control of the situation. “Well,” I start carefully, “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He glances at me, his expression softening slightly. “You should.”

We fall into another silence, but this one feels different—quieter, more intimate. I rest my chin on my knees, stealing a glance at him. He’s looking down at the book he abandoned, but his fingers drum absently on the spine, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“You know,” I say after a moment, my voice barely above a whisper, “you could’ve just asked me.”

His hand freezes mid-drum, and his head snaps up, his eyes locking onto mine. “What?”

“To the ball,” I clarify, my chest tightening as the words leave my mouth. “You could’ve asked me.”

Draco’s expression shifts, his usual mask slipping just enough for me to catch the flicker of vulnerability beneath it. For a second, I think he’s going to say something, but then his jaw tightens, and he looks away.

“It wouldn’t have worked,” he says finally, his voice quiet but firm.

“Why not?” I ask, unable to hide the hurt creeping into my tone.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Because it just wouldn’t, alright? You’ve got Beaumont, and I’ve got… other things to worry about.”

“That’s not an answer,” I press, leaning forward slightly. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Draco stands abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You should get going,” he says, his voice colder now, the walls snapping back up. “It’s late.”

I stare at him, my heart sinking as the distance between us feels more insurmountable than ever. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m not doing anything. I just—”

“No,” I cut him off, my voice firm. “We need to start talking through things. No more running. Sit down.”

He blinks in surprise, clearly not having expected me to shut him down, but he doesn’t move.

I sigh, laying my cheek on my knees, bordering on pouting. “Please.”

Draco hesitates, the tension in his posture obvious as he stands there, debating whether to stay or leave. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I’m certain he’s going to walk away. But then, with a quiet sigh, he lowers himself back onto the couch, keeping a safe distance between us.

“You’re awfully bossy for someone so needy,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to his words.

I roll my eyes, lifting my head slightly. “And you’re awfully avoidant for someone who clearly doesn’t want me to leave.”

His gaze snaps to mine, and I can tell my comment hit its mark. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but his voice lacks conviction.

“Maybe I don’t,” I admit softly. “But that’s why I want to talk. Because this…” I gesture between us. “Whatever this is, it’s exhausting. For both of us.”

Draco looks away, his shoulders stiff, but he doesn’t argue.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “You said it wouldn’t have worked if you asked me to the ball. Why not? I want an actual answer, Dray.”

His fingers tighten around the edge of the couch, his knuckles white. “Because I can’t… give you what you deserve,” he says finally, his voice low, almost inaudible. “And because it’s not safe.”

I frown, leaning closer. “Not safe? What does that even mean?”

“It means,” he snaps, his eyes meeting mine with a flash of frustration, “that you were right. With everything going on, you could get hurt if we get too close.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off. “And before you start, it doesn’t matter that you think you can handle it. You shouldn’t have to. You deserve better than… this.”

His words sting more than I care to admit, but I refuse to back down. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve,” I say firmly. “And you don’t get to push me away because you’re scared.”

Draco flinches at my words, the mask he’s been wearing cracking ever so slightly. “It’s not just about me,” he says quietly, the vulnerability in his voice catching me off guard.

I reach out, hesitating for only a moment before placing my hand over his. “I know. But you were right—we’re better together than we are apart.”

He doesn’t respond, just stares at my hand over his. I almost think he’ll pull away but he doesn’t, he just sits there, mulling over my words.

“Besides,” I start, already regretting my next words, “every time we’re not right next to each other, all I can think about is getting close to you again.”

He looks up at me, a deep and fearful vulnerability in his gaze. “That’s just the bond.”

“I don’t know if that’s true anymore,” I reply quietly, the words hanging in the air. “I don’t know if it ever was.”

Draco’s breath hitches, his gaze locked onto mine as if searching for a lie, an escape, anything to disprove what I’ve just said. But he finds nothing—because it’s the truth, and we both know it.

“That’s dangerous,” he finally whispers, his voice barely audible. “You don’t understand what you’re saying.”

I tighten my grip on his hand, leaning in slightly, my heart pounding in my chest. “Maybe I don’t understand everything, but I understand enough. I understand how I feel, and I understand that pushing me away isn’t going to make this any easier for either of us.”

His jaw tenses, his eyes darting away as though he can’t bear to hold my gaze any longer. “It doesn’t matter how we feel,” he says, his tone harsh but trembling at the edges. “It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s—”

“Stop,” I cut him off, my voice soft but firm. “Stop trying to convince yourself that this doesn’t mean anything.”

He exhales shakily, his defenses cracking further with every passing second. “I’ve spent so long trying to ignore it,” he admits, his voice raw. “Because I thought if I could just keep it buried, it wouldn’t hurt so much when it all fell apart.”

My chest tightens at his confession, and I squeeze his hand gently. “What if it doesn’t have to fall apart?”

His eyes snap back to mine, wide and filled with something I can’t quite name—hope, fear, longing. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he repeats, but this time, it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than me.

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” I whisper. “And I’m not afraid of whatever this is, Draco. I just need to know that you’re not, either.”

The silence that follows is almost unbearable, the weight of my words hanging heavily in the air between us. For a moment, I think he’s going to shut down again, to retreat back behind the walls he’s so carefully constructed.

But then, ever so slowly, his hand turns under mine, his fingers brushing against my palm before intertwining with mine. His grip is hesitant, unsure, but it’s there—a quiet, trembling step forward.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know if I can.”

“Neither do I,” I reply, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. “But we’ll figure it out. I know it.”

He nods, just once, his eyes meeting mine with a vulnerability I’ve never seen from him before. It’s not a promise, not yet, but it’s enough.

He gives my hand a squeeze before dropping it and standing again, seeming shaken. “I… think I need a minute.”

I pull my wand out of my hair, letting it cascade around my shoulders. I tuck my wand away in my sleeve and stand, giving him a nod. “I’ll give you some space for the night, then. Try not to overthink it, okay?”

His whole body seems to tense up, and I’m sure it’s from how unsure he feels. But when I look down at his hand, it twitches at his side, like he’s holding back from something.

I don’t know everything, but I know Draco, and his body is betraying him, wanting me closer. I smile softly before taking a step to stand right in front of him, barely a few inches away.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice unsteady.

My eyes soften, and all I want in this moment is for him to feel relaxed again. “What you need,” I answer, my smile small but warm. “May I?”

He looks away for a moment, like he’s trying to collect his thoughts, but he only looks more frazzled when he faces me again. He answers me by pulling me into the tightest hug he’s ever given me, and it seems like he’s holding on for dear life.

For a moment, I freeze, surprised by how fiercely he pulls me in. But then I relax, wrapping my arms around him and letting him bury his face in my shoulder. He holds me like he’s afraid I might disappear, his grip strong, almost desperate.

His breathing is uneven, and I feel the slightest tremble in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers so softly I almost don’t catch it.

I tighten my hold, my hand brushing against the back of his neck in what I hope is a soothing gesture. “Don’t be,” I reply, my voice steady despite the emotions swirling in my chest.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to let myself have this,” he admits, his words muffled against my shoulder. “Every time I try, I just think about how it could all go wrong.”

I pull back just enough to look at him, keeping my hands on his shoulders. His face is so close to mine, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and longing. “Draco,” I say softly, “you don’t have to have all the answers right now. You don’t have to figure it out tonight. Just… let this be what it is, okay? One step at a time.”

He looks at me like he’s searching for something—reassurance, strength, maybe even a reason to believe me. After a moment, he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay,” he whispers.

I give him a small smile and step back, giving him the space he clearly needs. “I’ll let you have your minute,” I say gently, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “But remember what I said—no overthinking.”

He almost smiles at that, a flicker of something softer crossing his face. “Easier said than done,” he mutters.

“Good thing I’ll be here to remind you,” I reply, turning toward the door. Before I step out, I glance back at him one last time. He’s watching me, his expression unreadable but his eyes undeniably softer than before.

“For what it’s worth” I say quietly, my voice warm, “I wanted you to ask me to the ball. Not him.”

“I know,” he replies, his tone hesitant but genuine. “I was just…”

I smile, a deep understanding crossing between us. “I know.”

As the door closes behind me, I lean against the wall for a moment, my heart still racing. Whatever just happened, it feels like something shifted between us—something fragile but unbreakable, something real.

Tap tap tap. I look down at my bracelet, a warmth spreading through my chest.

I graze the cool metal with my fingers, time suddenly standing still. Tap tap tap.