The Pact

I wake with a warm, bubbly feeling. It’s Christmas. It may not quite feel like it, but it is, and that’s what matters.

I rub my eyes and notice some small gifts at the foot of my bed. I peer down at them, then grab the small note left for me right on top.

“Y/n,

Your father and I unfortunately have much to tend to before next week, so we cannot be there to celebrate today. You’ll have Draco and Narcissa to keep you company while we coordinate with Lucius on everything that needs to be prepared. I’m sure you’ll understand. Duty comes first, always.

Thank you for the gifts. Happy Christmas.

-Mum”

I sigh, crumbling the note up and tossing it to the side. Of course they’re not here. Why would they be? They don’t care about me.

At the very least the holiday seems to have softened my mother enough to be appreciative of what I got for her, so I suppose it could be worse.

But a whole holiday with Draco and Narcissa?

Part of me is relieved, but the other part is worried. What if I feel pushed out? Or like a third wheel all day? I don’t want to intrude on their festivities, but I don’t have much of a choice.

I get up out of bed and start getting ready. I pull on the outfit I picked just for today—a burgundy sweater, a simple black skirt, tights, and Mary Jane’s. Very classically Christmas, if I do say so myself.

I hear a knock at the door, and I call out a simple, “Come in.”

Draco pops his head around the corner hesitantly, but he melts into a smile when he sees me up and going.

“Well, happy Christmas, Lavigné,” he says softly, his eyes sparkling with something I can’t place.

“Happy Christmas,” I reply quietly, turning back to my mirror. My bed head is something else, and I’m nearly embarrassed about it.

“Pay no mind to my hair, I have no idea what’s going on with it,” I chuckle, picking up my brush.

He strides over to me, holding out his hand. “I’ll do it for you.”

I freeze, the brush halfway to my head. “You’ll what?”

He rolls his eyes lightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I’ll do your hair. You act like I’m completely incapable.”

“Because you’ve never once mentioned you know how to do hair,” I counter, narrowing my eyes at him as I reluctantly hand him the brush.

“Did it ever come up?” he shoots back, taking the brush from me and gesturing for me to sit. “I used to help my mother when she needed it. It’s not that complicated.”

I sit at the small vanity, still skeptical. “I’m not entirely convinced, but I’ll allow it. If I look like a troll, though, it’s on you.”

He laughs—a soft, genuine sound that warms the air between us. “Trust me, Lavigné, you’re incapable of looking like a troll.”

I roll my eyes but feel heat creep up my neck at the compliment, whether intentional or not.

Draco stands behind me, brushing out the tangles with a surprising amount of care. “You’ve got nice hair,” he muses, twisting a strand between his fingers. “Soft.”

I glance at him in the mirror, raising a brow. “You’re suspiciously good at this.”

“I told you,” he replies, smirking, his fingers deftly parting my hair. “Now stop fussing. Do your makeup or something while I work my magic.”

I huff but pick up my small compact, dabbing some powder over my face to start. As I blend, I can’t help sneaking glances at him in the reflection. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his hands moving with practiced precision as he braids a section of my hair.

“You’re really taking this seriously,” I mutter, lining my eyes with soft strokes of eyeliner. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Would you rather I make a mess of it?” he asks without looking up, a playful note in his voice.

“No,” I admit. “It’s just… surprising.”

“Well, consider this my Christmas gift,” he says lightly, securing the braid with a delicate twist. “Although if you’d like to get me something in return, I wouldn’t say no.”

I laugh softly, turning my head slightly as he starts on the other side. “You already got your gift, Malfoy. Don’t get greedy.”

“Hmm, I don’t recall unwrapping anything from you yet,” he teases, finishing the braid with a flourish. “Alright, done. Now don’t move—I’m pinning it up.”

I sit still as he carefully pins the braids into a soft updo, his touch so gentle I barely feel it. When he steps back, he looks pleased with himself.

“Done,” he says simply, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “What do you think?”

I turn my head slightly, admiring the intricate yet effortless style. “Draco, it’s… perfect. I don’t even know what to say.”

He shrugs, but his smirk betrays his pride. “Don’t say anything. Just remember this the next time you call me useless.”

I shake my head, smiling. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I like to think so.” Draco looks around for a moment before noticing the gifts at the foot of my bed. “Are those…?”

“From my parents,” I finish for him, my smile slipping. “Said they couldn’t be here today.”

“Oh,” he says softly, giving me a sympathetic look.

I shrug, trying to brush it off. “I’m used to it. They’re not around much anyway. Never have been.”

Draco frowns but doesn’t press the subject. Instead, he gestures toward the pile of gifts. “Well, are you going to open them? Or let them sit there all day?”

I sigh, dragging the small pile closer to me. “Might as well. Not like there’s anything else to do.”

The first gift is from my mother. A sleek black box with her immaculate handwriting on the tag. I open it carefully, revealing a silver bracelet with a single charm—a snake.

“Fitting,” Draco mutters, eyeing the charm.

I hold it up, my chest tightening. “It’s her way of saying I need to be more cunning, no doubt. She’s always on about how I should live up to the family name.”

Draco doesn’t reply, but his expression hardens slightly. I set the bracelet aside and pick up the next package—a smaller one, clearly from my father.

Inside is a book titled The Art of Diplomacy: A Guide to Polished Speech and Conduct. I snort, flipping through the pages. “Subtle. I guess he thinks my manners need improvement.”

Draco leans over, reading a random passage. “‘A true diplomat remains calm and composed even in the most trying circumstances.’ Sounds like a riveting read.”

“Can’t wait to dive in,” I deadpan, tossing the book aside.

The next gift is from both of them—a beautifully wrapped box tied with a golden ribbon. For a moment, I let myself hope. Maybe this one will be different.

I pull off the ribbon and lift the lid, only to find a pair of silk gloves embroidered with the family crest. Elegant, yes. Personal, no.

“Ah,” Draco says, his tone unreadable. “Nothing says ‘Happy Christmas’ like a reminder of who you belong to.”

I press my lips together, setting the gloves down without a word. The last gift is from someone I don’t recognize—a distant relative, perhaps. It’s a simple box of chocolates.

I open it and immediately notice the note inside: “For the daughter of the Lavignes, may you grow into the woman your family needs you to be.”

“Lovely,” I mutter, closing the box.

Draco watches me carefully. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” I confirm, leaning back in my chair. “A bracelet to remind me to be less soft, a book to tell me how to behave, gloves to mark my place in the family, and chocolates that might as well be poisoned.”

Draco’s jaw tightens. “They’re lucky I’m here, or you’d be celebrating Christmas alone with that load of rubbish.”

I blink at him, startled by the heat in his voice. “It’s fine, really. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” he snaps, then softens. “Come on. Mother’s waiting downstairs. Let’s at least try to salvage the day.”

I glance at the pile of gifts, then back at Draco. His outstretched hand is warm, reassuring.

“Alright,” I say quietly, taking it. Maybe Christmas isn’t completely ruined after all.

We walk down and through the corridors, and Draco leads me to the sitting room with the tree I helped decorate. There’s a pile of gifts beneath the tree, and Narcissa is smiling from ear to ear.

“Amazing, you’re up. Would you like to open your gifts?” she asks softly, gesturing to the pile.

“Hm? Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything,” I say sheepishly, though I’m very touched by the gesture.

She waves her hand. “Nonsense. You’re our guest, and more than that, Draco’s future wife. Of course I’m going to get you something.”

I chuckle lightly, taking a seat. “Well, thank you. That’s very kind.”

She starts handing me box after box. I give her a bewildered look. “Are these…?”

“All for you,” she says politely, handing me the last one.

Seven. There are seven.

Two from Draco, and five from her. I wasn’t expecting anything at all, and now I don’t know what to do with myself.

I stare at the pile, overwhelmed. Seven gifts. For me. This isn’t just unexpected—it feels surreal.

“Well,” Narcissa says gently, sitting beside me on the sofa, “go on. Open them.”

I hesitate, glancing at Draco, who leans against the fireplace with his arms crossed. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a faint twitch of a smile as he watches.

I start with the smallest box. It’s elegantly wrapped in silver paper and tied with a pristine green ribbon—Narcissa’s touch, no doubt. Carefully, I untie it, revealing a delicate glass hairpin shaped like a lily.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, holding it up to the light.

“Draco mentioned your fondness for lilies,” Narcissa says, her tone light, almost casual.

I glance at Draco, who shrugs but doesn’t meet my eyes. “You wear them on that ugly sweater you insist on keeping,” he mutters.

I laugh softly, setting the hairpin aside. “Thank you, Narcissa. It’s lovely.”

The next box is slightly larger. Inside is a set of luxurious quills, each engraved with my initials.

“You’ve been using those plain ones from the school supply list,” she says. “These should be much better.”

I run my fingers over the gold detailing, feeling a warmth in my chest. “They’re perfect.”

One by one, I open the remaining gifts from her. I unwrap a book of advanced charms with a note tucked inside: “To nurture your talents.” I glance up at her and she smiles knowingly, shooting me a wink.

The next is a bottle of the most exquisite perfume I’ve ever smelled—light and floral with a hint of spice. Like me, I think.

Each gift is thoughtful, personal. I don’t know what to say.

Finally, there’s one last box from her. The largest of the lot. It’s wrapped beautifully, and I almost don’t want to open it.

When I do, my breath catches.

It’s the dress. That dress.

The one I’d lingered on during our trip to Paris but didn’t dare buy. Powder blue and flowy, off the shoulder sleeves, cinched in at the waist. It looked like something out of a dream.

I lift it from the box, the fabric sliding like water through my fingers. “I… when did you…?”

“You didn’t think I noticed, did you?” Narcissa says with a soft smile. “You kept glancing at it but never asked to try it on.”

“I couldn’t,” I whisper, still staring at the dress. “It didn’t seem like the right time.”

“And yet, here it is,” Narcissa says, patting my hand. “Consider it a Christmas gift—and a reminder that you deserve beautiful things.”

My throat tightens, and for a moment, I can’t speak.

As I look down in the box, I see she’s included a pair of strappy white heels—with little bows on the back—and delicate white earrings to match.

“Try it on,” she says suddenly, her voice softer than usual.

I look at Draco, then at Narcissa, and finally nod. “Alright.”

As I leave to change, I clutch the dress to my chest, feeling something I haven’t in a long time—cherished.

I slip into it and it fits like a glove—the shoes, too. Everything is perfectly tailored to my size, just like when they gave me those dueling robes all that time ago. I realize now that must have been her doing.

When I walk back into the room, beaming nervously with my hands folded behind me, Narcissa is the first to notice me.

“Well, aren’t you just as pretty as a painting,” she remarks, her face dissolving into a fond smile.

Draco looks up too, and his mouth falls open. “Wow,” is all he can muster, his eyes flickering all over me like he’s not sure what to focus on.

I feel my cheeks flush under Draco’s gaze, the intensity of it catching me off guard. His usual smirk is nowhere to be found—instead, he looks almost… awestruck.

“What do you think?” I ask hesitantly, smoothing my hands down the fabric.

“You have to ask?” Narcissa interjects with a laugh. “You look stunning. Like a proper lady of high society.”

Draco still hasn’t said much, but his eyes haven’t left me. I fidget slightly under his stare, and Narcissa nudges him gently.

“Well?” she prompts. “What do you think, Draco?”

He blinks, snapping out of whatever trance he’s in. “I, uh…” He clears his throat and straightens up. “You look… beautiful.”

The way he says it, soft and genuine, sends a strange warmth blooming in my chest. I duck my head to hide the smile threatening to spread across my face.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Narcissa claps her hands together, breaking the moment. “Well, this calls for a proper photograph by the tree! Draco, fetch the camera.”

Draco hesitates, clearly reluctant to look away from me, but eventually does as his mother says. As he moves to grab the camera, Narcissa leans in and whispers, “You’ve got him speechless, dear. That’s no small feat.”

I glance at her, wide-eyed, but she only winks and straightens up as Draco returns.

“Alright,” he says gruffly, holding the camera. “Stand by the tree.”

I position myself awkwardly, unsure of what to do with my hands, but Narcissa steps in to adjust me. She arranges the folds of the dress and brushes a stray curl from my face, her touch gentle and motherly.

“There,” she says, stepping back to admire her work. “Perfect.”

Draco raises the camera, his expression a mix of concentration and something softer. The flash goes off, and for a moment, I feel like I’m in one of those portraits from the magazines Narcissa always reads—elegant, poised, seen.

“Another one,” Narcissa insists, pulling Draco into the shot this time. He grumbles but doesn’t protest as she places him beside me, his arm brushing against mine.

“Smile,” she says, her tone teasing.

Draco looks at me just as the camera clicks, and for once, there’s no smirk—just a genuine, soft smile that takes my breath away.

It’s the kind of moment I’ll carry with me for a long time, I realize. A perfect snapshot of a Christmas where, for once, I felt truly at home.

She pulls the pictures out of the camera and hands them to me to look over. The dress does look good on me, and she posed me well for the first. But the picture with Draco…

“Can I keep this?” I ask softly, admiring the shot.

It’s repeating itself over and over—the look he gives me, both of our cheeks tinged pink, the genuine smiles we both have on our faces. It’s too perfect.

Narcissa gives me a knowing smile. “Of course. I get this one, though.”

She takes back the photo of just me, spelling over a frame to put it in. She gestures to me to follow her.

“I’m putting this in my study. Want to see?”

Curious, I nod and follow Narcissa out of the sitting room. Draco trails behind us, though he seems distracted, occasionally glancing at the photo I’m still holding.

As we enter her study, I’m struck by how warm the space feels. It’s elegant, of course, with rich mahogany furniture and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, but there are personal touches everywhere. Framed photos line the walls and the desk, each one offering a glimpse into the Malfoys’ lives.

Narcissa walks to a shelf and carefully places my photo in an empty spot, adjusting it until it’s just right.

“There,” she says, stepping back to admire it. “You fit in perfectly.”

I smile, a little overwhelmed. “Thank you. It’s… beautiful.”

While Narcissa adjusts a few other things, my eyes wander to the photos around the room. One in particular catches my attention—a young Draco, no older than six or seven, sitting atop a tiny broomstick with a triumphant grin on his face.

I can’t help but laugh softly. “Is that Draco?”

Narcissa turns and chuckles. “His first toy broom. He insisted he could fly just as well as his father, but Lucius had to catch him before he crashed into a tree.”

Draco groans behind us. “Mother, do we have to revisit every embarrassing moment of my childhood?”

“Oh, hush,” Narcissa says fondly. “She’s enjoying it.”

I move to another photo, this one of the whole family. Lucius looks as regal as ever, though his expression is softer than I’ve ever seen. Narcissa has her arm looped through his, smiling gracefully. And Draco, barely a teenager, stands beside them with a shy but genuine smile.

“This is lovely,” I say, glancing at Narcissa.

She looks at the photo with a wistful expression. “It was a good day. Lucius was in rare form, and Draco was still young enough to humor me with family portraits.”

She pauses, then sighs softly. “I always wanted a daughter, you know.”

I blink, startled by her confession. She smiles faintly, her gaze drifting back to the photo she just framed.

“Someone to dress up, to teach, to share moments like this with. But… it wasn’t in the cards.” She looks at me, her expression warm. “You’re the closest I’ve ever had to one. And I’m glad for it.”

Her words hit me like a spell, wrapping around me with unexpected warmth. “I… I don’t know what to say,” I whisper, my voice thick.

“You don’t have to say anything, dear,” she replies, patting my hand gently. “Just know that you’re very much a part of this family.”

For a moment, I can’t speak, overwhelmed by the kindness in her voice. All I can do is nod, clutching the photo of Draco and me a little tighter.

I lower my voice as Draco walks back to the sitting room impatiently, not wanting him to catch me in a sappy moment. “I always wanted a mum like you.”

She regards me cautiously, a pointed curiosity in her gaze. “You have a wonderful mum.”

“I have a mother,” I reply quietly. “Not a mum.”

Narcissa’s lips part slightly, and for a moment, she looks like she might say something, but instead, she simply studies me. Her gaze softens, the understanding in her eyes so deep it’s almost overwhelming.

“I see,” she says finally, her voice quieter than before.

I glance down at the photo in my hands, tracing the edges with my thumb to distract myself. “She’s… proud, in her way. But it’s never been easy. I don’t think she’s ever looked at me the way you look at Draco.”

A silence falls between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels like she’s weighing her words, considering them carefully.

“Y/n,” she says, her tone gentle but firm, “I can’t claim to know the whole story. But from what I’ve seen, you’re remarkable. And if Grace can’t see that… then that’s her failing, not yours.”

I glance up at her, surprised by her conviction.

She takes a step closer, resting a hand lightly on my shoulder. “You’re clever, kind, and far stronger than you realize. And if you ever need someone to remind you of that—or simply someone to be proud of you—you know where to find me.”

My throat tightens again, but this time, I manage a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Always.” She smiles softly, brushing a stray curl out of my face. Then, as if sensing we’ve lingered too long in sentiment, she straightens and gestures toward the door. “Come, let’s rejoin Draco before he starts sulking.”

I nod, following her out of the study. But as I walk, the weight I’ve been carrying feels just a little lighter, and for the first time, I wonder if this place could truly become a home. Even with all its flaws, it feels more like home than my manor ever did.

Draco is sorting through the last of the boxes when we rejoin him, having set aside the gifts I got for each of them.

“You got mother two and one for me?” he asks, sounding a bit like a spoiled child, but I know he’s only teasing.

I roll my eyes playfully. “You’ll see why.”

“You… got something for me, dear?” Narcissa asks softly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

I smile up at her. “I wanted to.”

We all sit down by the small piles Draco created, getting comfortable. The fire starts to die, so I perk it up wandlessly, earning slightly impressed looks from both of them.

“If you’re done trying to steal my mother,” Draco starts, a teasing smile on his lips, “I’m going to see what she got for me, thanks.”

Draco starts unwrapping the first gift with a curious look, and I watch as his expression shifts into delight. It’s a sleek new set of dragonhide gloves—practical, durable, and undoubtedly expensive. He runs his fingers over the material, his smile widening.

“These are brilliant,” he says, glancing at Narcissa. “Thanks, Mum.”

“I thought you’d like them,” she replies, her tone light and pleased.

The next gift is a leather-bound journal embossed with the Malfoy crest. Attached to it is the quills she bought for him yesterday—his favorites. Draco chuckles softly, shaking his head. “A journal, really?”

“You’ve always had a way with words, darling,” Narcissa says with a small smirk. “I thought it might be time to put them to paper.”

He rolls his eyes but tucks it aside carefully, his smile betraying his appreciation.

One by one, he unwraps the rest of her gifts: a comfortable looking silk button up, a collection of potion ingredients, and a silver pocket watch engraved with his initials.

Draco’s excitement is contagious. Each time he pulls something from the carefully wrapped boxes, his face lights up in a way I’ve rarely seen. He looks younger, lighter, like the weight he always carries has momentarily lifted.

I find myself smiling, unable to look away from him. It’s endearing—seeing him so openly happy, so unapologetically himself.

Finally, he picks up the last gift from Narcissa. It’s a long, thin box, and as he opens it, his eyes widen. Inside is a beautifully crafted wand holster, made of supple black leather with subtle silver accents.

“For dueling,” Narcissa explains softly. “I thought it might come in handy.”

Draco looks at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, without a word, he leans over and gives her a quick hug.

“Thanks, Mum,” he mutters, his voice softer than usual.

Narcissa smiles warmly, brushing a hand over his hair before he pulls away.

I don’t say anything, content to simply watch the exchange. For all his arrogance and bravado, Draco has moments like this—moments where he’s just a boy who loves his mum. It’s a side of him I don’t often get to see, and I can’t help but feel a quiet fondness as I take it all in.

Narcissa picks up the small, neatly wrapped box from Draco with an elegant curiosity. “What could this possibly be?” she teases gently, turning it over in her hands before carefully pulling at the ribbon.

Draco leans back against the armchair, feigning nonchalance, but I catch the way his fingers drum against his leg—he’s nervous.

When she finally opens it, her lips part in surprise. Inside is a delicate silver bracelet adorned with charms: a rose, a small book, and an intricate little dragon. Each charm seems chosen with thought.

“Oh, Draco,” she whispers, her fingers brushing over the bracelet. “It’s beautiful.”

He shrugs, but there’s a faint pink tint to his cheeks. “You’re always complaining about not having enough jewelry for everyday wear.”

She chuckles softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever complained about that, darling, but this is perfect. Truly.”

She slides it onto her wrist, tilting her hand to admire how it catches the light. “You remembered the rose,” she says quietly, her voice carrying a note of something bittersweet.

“You always said it reminded you of home,” Draco replies simply, and I feel my heart tug a little at the quiet sincerity in his voice.

Narcissa takes a moment, her eyes glistening ever so slightly. Then she smiles warmly and leans over to kiss Draco’s cheek. “Thank you, my sweet boy.”

Draco clears his throat, clearly trying to mask his embarrassment. “There’s another one,” he mutters, gesturing to the larger box beside her.

Narcissa opens this one with a touch more haste, her curiosity clearly piqued. Inside is a beautifully bound photo album, the cover engraved with the Malfoy crest and her initials. She opens it to find pages of family photos, some old and faded, others more recent.

“Oh…” Her voice catches as she flips through the pages. “Draco, you… you put this together?”

He shrugs again, looking away as though it’s no big deal, but I can see the faint pride in his expression. “I thought you’d like to have everything in one place.”

Narcissa doesn’t say anything for a moment, her fingers brushing over a photo of a much younger Draco on Lucius’s shoulders. Then she looks up at him, her expression soft and full of love.

“This means more to me than you know,” she says softly, closing the album and holding it to her chest. “Thank you, darling.”

He nods, his gaze dropping as he mutters, “Happy Christmas, Mum.”

I can’t help but smile at the scene, my heart warming as I watch them. For all the complexity of their family, there’s no denying the love between them. It’s a rare, vulnerable moment, and I feel privileged to witness it.

“Those two are from her,” Draco says softly, pointing at the other boxes next to her.

She picks them up gingerly, giving me a thankful smile. “I do appreciate you getting anything at all for me, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” I reply, pushing the larger one towards her first. “Start with that one.”

She gives me a curious look before unwrapping it, unveiling the tea she looked at but wouldn’t buy for herself.

Narcissa’s lips part slightly as she takes in the ornate tin, her fingers brushing over the embossed lettering. It’s a luxurious blend laced with bergamot and lavender.

“Oh…” she breathes, looking up at me with wide, astonished eyes. “How did…?”

“I saw you looking at it while we were at the shops,” I reply, feeling a bit shy under her gaze. “You studied it for a long time, but you didn’t get it, so… I thought you should have it.”

A soft smile curves her lips, and for a moment, she just looks at me, her expression full of warmth. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you, darling.”

Draco raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing, the corners of his mouth twitching in faint amusement.

Narcissa sets the tea aside carefully, as though it’s something precious, before picking up the smaller box. “And this?” she asks, her voice curious but gentle.

“Something I thought might suit you,” I say softly, folding my hands in my lap.

She unwraps it delicately, revealing the crescent moon hairpin. The silver gleams softly in the firelight, the dangling sapphire droplets catching the light with every movement.

Narcissa gasps softly, holding it up to inspect it closer. “It’s exquisite,” she murmurs, turning it in her hands. “The craftsmanship… And these sapphires…”

I shift nervously, unsure how she’ll react. “I thought it might go well with your hair,” I say, trying to downplay how nervous I was when choosing it.

She looks up at me, her eyes shimmering with something tender. “It’s perfect,” she says, her voice soft and sincere. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Truly, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Her hands pause, and then she gently slides the hairpin into her own hair, securing it neatly in place. The sapphire droplets sway gently as she moves, catching the light and adding a subtle elegance to her look.

“How does it look?” she asks, glancing between Draco and me.

Draco smirks. “Fits you, Mother. Very refined.”

“You look beautiful,” I add quietly, and she smiles in a way that feels like a warm embrace.

Narcissa reaches out, placing a hand over mine. “You’re far too kind, sweetheart. Thank you—for both of these. I’ll treasure them.”

Her words feel heavy with meaning, and for a moment, the room feels warmer, cozier. It’s strange, but sitting here, watching her with her gifts, I feel… content. Like, maybe, I belong here after all.

Breaking the silence, Draco looks at me expectantly. “You still haven’t opened mine.”

“You’re right,” I reply softly, having nearly forgotten this was about me at all. “Let’s see what we have here.”

He looks nervous as I pick up the first box, weighing it carefully in my hands. I open it to find another box, wooden this time, and it feels heavy.

The gold plate on top is engraved with my name, and an elegant curved line beneath it.

“What’s this?” I ask quietly, taking it out and setting it in my lap.

He shifts nervously. “It’s a keepsake box, enchanted so only you can open it. I put some things in it first, of course.”

I quirk an eyebrow, curious as to what else could be inside. It opens with a click when my thumb brushes over it, and I see a few small things that catch my eye.

The first is a quill—an expensive one I’ve always wanted. It’s charmed to never run out of ink, and the ink changes colors depending on your mood. My eyes go wide as I pick it up, turning it over in my hands.

“Where did you get this?” I ask breathlessly, a huge smile spreading across my face.

Draco smirks, leaning back against the couch like he hasn’t been nervously watching my every move. “I have my ways. Do you like it?”

I nod quickly. “I love it. It’s… perfect.”

“Keep looking,” he says, his voice quieter now, his fingers idly brushing over the fabric of the couch.

I set the quill down carefully and reach for the next item—a charm bracelet. It’s delicate, gold, and adorned with three charms: a quill, a pointe shoe, and the sun. The details are stunning, and my heart gives a little tug as I realize how personal it is.

“You remembered,” I whisper, running my fingers over the charms.

“Of course I remembered,” he replies, his tone feigning nonchalance. “I don’t forget things like that.”

The last item is a hairpin, matching the bracelet. A gold sun design, the rays wavy around the center, with a comb to put into an updo.

“This is beautiful,” I murmur, my voice thick.

Draco doesn’t say anything, but when I glance up, his ears are slightly pink, and he’s looking away, pretending to examine the crackling fire.

And then I notice the engraving on the inside of the box’s lid. The words are simple, but they hit me harder than anything else:

“A place to hold your most precious things—and something to remind you that you’re one of mine.”

My breath catches. My hands tighten around the edge of the box as I read it again, just to make sure I didn’t imagine it.

I glance at Draco, and he looks back at me, his expression unreadable now. “Do you like it?” he asks, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

I blink back the sudden sting in my eyes and smile, though I know it’s a little wobbly. “Draco, it’s… it’s perfect. Thank you.”

I gingerly place the trinkets back into the box for later, setting the photo in there as well, and it starts to feel like a shrine—but I’m not complaining.

Draco shrugs, his usual smirk returning. “Well, you deserve it. Go on, you’ve got one more.”

I gingerly set it aside as I lift up his other gift. It’s wrapped haphazardly, but the lack of flair is sort of endearing.

I tear off the paper, taking the top off the box to reveal something that makes my heart stop.

Inside the box is a soft, hand-knit scarf in bright Hufflepuff yellow and black. The stitches are uneven in places, and it’s far from perfect, but that only makes it more special.

I pull it out carefully, running my fingers over the slightly crooked lines. “You didn’t,” I whisper, my chest tightening as I stare down at it.

“I did,” Draco says, leaning back with a casual shrug, though the faintest hint of pink rises on his cheeks. “I told you I’d make you one. Consider it a… limited edition.”

The memory of our first genuine sleepover at this manor floods back—us in the kitchen making cookies, and me teasing him about it because he knew how. I’d asked if he was going to knit scarves for all his friends, and if he’d make me a black and yellow one.

The memory is so clear, so sharp. He said, “Maybe I’ll make you one for Christmas.” I take a deep breath, trying not to cry.

“You actually made it,” I murmur, clutching the scarf to my chest. “I thought you were joking.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he replies, avoiding my gaze. “Don’t get used to it, though. It’s a one-time thing.”

I laugh softly, the sound tinged with emotion. “It’s perfect.”

Draco’s eyes flick up to meet mine, his smirk softening into something warmer. “Good. You’d better wear it, then.”

“Oh, I will,” I say, looping it around my neck right then and there. The slightly scratchy yarn is the coziest thing I’ve ever felt.

“Looks ridiculous,” he mutters, but there’s no bite in his words. In fact, he looks oddly pleased.

I just smile at him, my heart feeling impossibly full. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says gruffly, looking away as if he’s embarrassed. But the corners of his mouth twitch, betraying his pride.

I stand up and move over to him, catching a surprised smile from Narcissa as I pull him out of his seat and into a hug. “You can be so sweet sometimes,” I whisper, closing my eyes as his hands wrap around my waist.

Draco stiffens for a moment, clearly not expecting me to be so openly affectionate here, but then he relaxes. “Don’t let it get around,” he mutters, his voice low but teasing. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

I laugh softly, burying my face in his shoulder for a moment longer before pulling back just enough to look at him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He smirks, but his expression is softer than usual, his eyes meeting mine in a way that makes my heart flutter. “Good. Can’t have people thinking I’m going soft.”

Behind us, Narcissa watches with a small, knowing smile, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “I think it’s rather nice to see this side of you, Draco,” she says warmly.

Draco groans, pulling away from the hug, though his hands linger a moment longer than necessary. “And now you’ve ruined it, Mother. Thank you.”

I grin, sitting back down as the warmth of the moment settles between us. “She’s just happy to see that your heart isn’t completely made of ice,” I say lightly, earning a mock glare from Draco and a laugh from Narcissa.

All that’s left is for him to open my gift—the one thing I’ve been anxious for since I woke up.

Will he like it? Will he understand it? Will it be good enough?

“Your turn,” I encourage him, playing nervously with my hands as he unties the ribbon from my gift.

“A journal?” he asks softly, turning it over in his hands.

I nod, biting my lip. “You have to open it.”

Draco holds the journal in his hands, his fingers brushing over the cover before carefully opening it. His eyes flicker across the pages, each one filled with thoughts, poems, and little notes he’d never expected to see. As he reads through them, his gaze softens, and the usual mask of arrogance starts to falter.

He pauses at one of the diary entries, the one about his piano playing and my dancing in the Room of Requirement, his lips pressing together as a faint, incredulous smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Y/n…” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he flips through the journal. He doesn’t even seem to register that he just used my first name, still completely lost in the pages.

Narcissa turns to me, eyeing me curiously. “What’s in it?” she asks, though I know she isn’t prying.

I blush, avoiding her gaze. “He read my poetry once and liked it, so I gifted some to him.”

She nods, laughing ever so lightly. “I see.”

I move to sit down beside him, resting my head on his shoulder as he devours the content of the pages. He stops on one of the notes from him I pasted in, looking over at me.

“You… kept these?”

“Every last one,” I reply gently, having to break his gaze. “Even when I was mad at you. I just… it felt important.”

He mumbles something about Hufflepuff’s and their sentimentality before turning to one of the poems I copied down, the one I had so much trouble writing back then.

I mimicked the scratched out lines and smudges, giving him the full essence of what it was, before rewriting it on the next page the way it was meant to sound.

A smile tugs at his lips as he no doubt reminisces about the first time he read it—when he told me he didn’t mind if I stayed close to him. That was an important moment for me, and maybe even for him, too.

He runs his fingers over one of the smudges, saying, “I certainly recognize this one.”

I chuckle softly. “Yeah, I remember writing it.”

“This is incredible. Really,” he tells me softly, still reading over the pages. “How much time did you put into this?”

I wrap my hand around his arm, pulling him closer to me. “Not as much as I’d have liked to, but I can always add more. If you want.”

He rests his cheek on the top of my head, reading over the diary entry from the first time I ever hugged him. I feel the low rumble of his laugh as he reads my addition.

“Hard to focus, hm?” He gently turns page after page, skipping through a few of the longer ones. “I’ll read these with you later,” he whispers into my hair.

I give him a nod and a smile, waiting for him to turn to the last page—the note.

Draco’s fingers hover over the final page, his chest tight as he reads the note slowly, absorbing every word. The words on the page seem to make time stand still for him, the room around us fading into the background as his gaze traces over the descriptions—each one more intimate and vivid than the last. He swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

“Y/n…” His voice cracks, and for a moment, he struggles to find the words, glancing up from the journal to meet my eyes. There’s a slight tremor in his hand as he holds the journal, the weight of the note still sinking in.

He looks down at the page again, reading it over once more as if trying to process the depth of what I’ve written. I can see the flicker of emotions behind his usually guarded expression—surprise, vulnerability, and something else that makes my heart flutter.

“You see me like that?” he finally asks, his voice soft, almost disbelieving, as though the words were something he couldn’t have imagined someone feeling for him. His eyes soften as he meets my gaze again, searching, lingering.

I nod, a gentle smile tugging at my lips. “I do. I always have.”

His expression falters for a moment, his lips pressing together as though he’s at a loss for how to respond. He sets the journal down carefully, his fingers still lightly brushing over the edges of the pages, as if reluctant to let go of the moment.

“You’ve… you’ve written all this,” Draco murmurs, almost to himself. “For me.”

“I didn’t know how to say it until now,” I reply quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I meant every word.”

Draco lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair, his face turning slightly redder. There’s a strange vulnerability in the way he looks at me now—an openness that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome. “I don’t know what to say,” he admits, his voice low, conflicted. “It’s… a lot. I didn’t expect this.”

I sit back a little, trying to give him space to process, feeling a slight pang of nervousness. “I didn’t expect it either,” I admit, shifting my gaze to my lap.

He looks at me then, his eyes soft but searching. “Y/n, this—” He pauses, inhaling deeply as though trying to gather his thoughts. “I never thought someone like you could… see me like this. You’ve always had this way of making me feel like maybe I’m not as bad as I think I am.”

The weight of his words settles in the air between us, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of awe and something deeper—something I’ve seen grow between us but never dared name. “You don’t have to be anything other than what you are with me,” I say, my voice steady despite the rising tide of emotions. “I’ve always seen you, Draco. Just you.”

His gaze softens, and for a moment, we both stay silent, the moment hanging between us like the quiet after a storm. Slowly, he reaches for the journal again, his fingers lingering over the pages before he looks at me one more time, as if asking permission without words.

“I don’t know how to respond to this,” he murmurs, his tone sincere and vulnerable in a way I’ve never heard before. “But… thank you.  For giving me this.”

His words linger in the air, and for the first time, it feels like we both understand each other in a way we never had before.

Narcissa watches us with a soft smile, her eyes warm as she takes in the tender moment between Draco and me. She’s been quiet for a while, but now, seeing Draco’s vulnerability and the sincerity in the exchange, her smile deepens, and her expression softens further.

“I must say,” she begins, her voice gentle, filled with a quiet admiration, “I’ve never seen him quite like this.” She looks at Draco, her gaze full of affection. “You’ve made him very happy, Y/n.”

Draco looks up at his mother, a mix of embarrassment and something softer flickering in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but his cheeks flush slightly under the attention. Narcissa, however, isn’t deterred, her smile turning even more knowing.

“Your gift,” she continues, her tone warm and proud, “It’s… more than I could have ever hoped for. I can see how much you care for him.” Her gaze shifts to me, and there’s a softness in her eyes that I haven’t seen before, something that shows a depth of understanding. “You’re good for him. He’s always been so closed off, so guarded, but you’ve brought out something in him that he hasn’t shown in years.”

I feel a rush of emotion at her words, but it’s not embarrassment—it’s gratitude. Narcissa has always been kind, but seeing her speak so honestly about Draco, about what I’ve brought to him, fills me with warmth.

Draco glances at her, his eyes flicking between us, but there’s no trace of his usual defensiveness—only something more like… acceptance. “Mother,” he mutters, but there’s no edge in his voice. There’s no irritation either, just a quiet acknowledgment of what she’s said.

Narcissa laughs lightly, shaking her head. “You’re embarrassed, aren’t you? You’re allowed to be, Draco, but I’m proud of you. Proud of both of you.”

Her words wrap around us like a blanket, warm and comforting. For a moment, I can feel the weight of everything between us—all the tension, the unspoken words, the misunderstandings—slowly melting away. Narcissa’s quiet approval, Draco’s soft gaze, and the tenderness of the moment create a space where I can’t help but feel a deep sense of belonging.

I meet Draco’s gaze, and he seems to understand, the last of the tension in his posture easing. Narcissa’s approval means more than I realized, and it feels like we’ve just stepped into a new chapter, one where things are changing, growing, and maybe—just maybe—becoming something we didn’t expect but wanted all along.