The Pact

After changing out of my new dress and back into something more comfortable, I sit on one of the tall chairs at the kitchen island, swinging my legs back and forth while Hades circles around me on the floor. Draco hands me another gingerbread cookie to decorate.

“You have a very steady hand,” Narcissa comments, watching me pipe the icing on.

I glance up at Narcissa with a small smile, the warmth of her compliment spreading through me. “Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Narcissa,” she says softly, giving me an amused smile.

“Narcissa,” I correct myself, chuckling. “My mother always insisted I learn how to do things properly, even something as simple as decorating cookies.”

Draco scoffs lightly from where he’s leaning against the counter, his sleeves rolled up and a dusting of flour on his shirt. “Properly? These look like something out of a shop window. I wouldn’t even want to eat them.”

I arch an eyebrow at him, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips. “And yet you’ve eaten at least three already.”

He smirks, snatching a freshly iced cookie off the tray. “I’m doing you a favor. Quality control.”

Narcissa’s soft chuckle fills the room, and I glance down at Hades, who nudges my leg with his head, clearly angling for a bite. I break off a small corner of a plain cookie and hand it to him, earning an approving flick of his tail.

I can’t help but feel content in this little bubble we’ve formed, where everything is comfortable and safe and easy. I haven’t been this at ease in a while, but then again, I’m pretty happy being anywhere Draco is.

The maternal affection from Narcissa is a nice touch, too. She has no idea how much she’s healed in me over the last couple of days, but I’ll forever be grateful for it.

I pop a small candy in my mouth, crunching on it as I add some to the cookie—buttons.

I hold up the finished product, showing it off. “Isn’t he so cute?”

Draco leans in to inspect the gingerbread man, his brow furrowed in mock seriousness. “Cute, yes. But I’m not sure about his structural integrity. He looks a bit… fragile.”

I roll my eyes, holding the cookie out of his reach. “Don’t you dare eat him. This one’s too precious.”

“Too precious to eat?” Draco smirks, his tone playful. “Challenge accepted.”

Before I can stop him, he makes a grab for it, but I dodge, holding the cookie high above my head. The sudden movement startles Hades, who lets out an indignant meow and circles our feet.

“Draco!” I laugh, trying to shield my masterpiece from his determined reach.

“Come on, hand it over,” he teases, his grin widening. “It’s a matter of science. Quality control, remember?”

“You’ve had enough quality control!” I counter, giggling as I pull it back, narrowly avoiding falling off the chair.

Narcissa watches the scene unfold with an amused smile, sipping her tea. “Draco, you’re behaving like a child,” she chides lightly, though there’s warmth in her voice.

“I’m just making sure she’s paying attention,” he replies, a glint of mischief in his eye as he takes another step closer.

I finally relent with a sigh, lowering the cookie. “Fine, but if you eat it, you’re going to regret it.”

Draco’s eyebrows lift in challenge. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“It’s cursed,” I say with a grin, narrowing my eyes at him dramatically. “The last person who ate a gingerbread man I decorated was haunted for a week.”

He snorts, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in his expression that makes Narcissa laugh softly. “I’d listen to her, darling. She seems very convincing.”

Draco shakes his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, though he doesn’t make another move for the cookie.

I grin in triumph, turning back to the tray to start on another one. But then, his voice cuts through, softer this time.

“Hey,” he says, and I glance at him over my shoulder. “Come outside with me. It’s snowing.”

I pause, the piping bag still in my hand, and look out the window at the soft, swirling flakes. “Now?”

He shrugs, but there’s something in his expression that makes my heart flutter. “Why not? The cookies can wait.”

I hesitate, glancing at Narcissa, who gives me a small nod, as if encouraging me. “Go ahead,” she says warmly. “I’ll keep Hades company.”

Draco holds the door open, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Coming?”

With a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, I set down the piping bag and grab my coat. “Alright. But only if you promise not to push me into a snowbank.”

“No promises,” he replies, the mischief back in his eyes as I step outside into the crisp, snow-dusted air.

I cast a warming charm over us, helping to take the edge out of the cold. Draco smiles gratefully, and I loop my arm through his, sticking my hand back in my pocket.

We walk along the garden path, admiring the enchanted roses—Narcissa’s touch, I’m sure. They sparkle like glitter, and the snow doesn’t seem to hurt them at all.

Maybe that’s how she sees herself. A fragile work of beauty amidst harsh conditions, persevering through the worst of it. Poised, delicate, graceful. Everything I think of when I think of Narcissa.

“Is that why you got her the rose charm?” I ask Draco softly, nodding my head towards the rose bush. “Because she grows them?”

Draco smiles wistfully, leading me towards them.

“Sort of,” he starts, pulling out his wand and blowing some of the snow away. “They remind her of her childhood home. The house of Black.”

I tilt my head, making the connection. “Black? Like Harry’s godfather?”

“Sirius,” Draco confirms, looking at me curiously. “How do you know about that? Did Potter tell you?”

I smile sheepishly, looking away from him for a moment as if I’ve been caught. “No, I overheard something about it from Hermione and Ron.”

Draco hums in acknowledgment, brushing his hand lightly against one of the sparkling roses. “Sirius and my mother grew up in the same house. It was a horrible place, really. Dark, suffocating. The kind of place that crushes you if you let it.”

I glance at him, surprised by the bitterness in his tone. “I never really thought about what it must’ve been like for them. I mean, I knew Sirius ran away, but…”

Draco nods, his expression shadowed. “He didn’t just run away. He rebelled. He was everything the Blacks despised—defiant, outspoken, loyal to anyone but his own family. My mother… she wasn’t like that. She endured it all in silence.” His voice softens, almost reverent. “She learned to survive by being perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect mother.”

I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over me. “That must’ve been hard for her. And for Sirius, too, in his own way.”

“It was,” Draco says quietly. “They were close when they were young, though. Before the family’s expectations tore them apart. Sirius was her only ally in that house. When he left, she was alone.”

I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for both of them. “Did she ever talk about it? About what it was like?”

Draco shakes his head. “Not much. She doesn’t like to dwell on the past. But I’ve pieced things together over the years. She told me once that the roses were her only comfort. She used to sneak out to the garden at night, just to be near them. I think that’s why she grows them now. It reminds her of the one thing in that house that wasn’t tainted.”

I trace a gloved finger along the petals of one of the roses, marveling at its resilience. “It sounds like she’s been through so much, but she’s still so… kind. She didn’t let it make her bitter.”

Draco glances at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “She’s stronger than she looks. And she’s always had this way of finding beauty in the worst places. Maybe that’s why she liked you right away.”

I blink, caught off guard by his words. “You think she likes me?”

He shrugs, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “She seems to adore you, actually. I think she’s been secretly hoping for another woman to bond with. One that doesn’t pressure her to be perfect all the time.”

I smile softly, touched by the thought. “I’m glad. I didn’t expect her to be so… welcoming. Especially after everything you’ve told me about your family.”

Draco’s expression darkens slightly, and he looks down at the snow crunching beneath our feet. “Not everyone in my family is like her. Most of them are—were—so obsessed with power and purity that they forgot how to be human. But my mother… she’s different. She cares more about protecting the people she loves than living up to their expectations.”

I glance at him, studying the flicker of vulnerability in his face. “She loves you so much.”

“She does,” he admits quietly, his voice tinged with guilt. “Probably more than I deserve. She’s always trying to shield me, even when it’s impossible. Even when I make it harder for her.”

I stop walking, turning to face him fully. “Draco, you know that’s not true, right? You’re her son. You don’t have to earn her love.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the weight he carries seems heavier than ever. “Maybe,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “But sometimes it feels like… like I’ve let her down just by being who I am.”

My chest tightens at the raw honesty in his words. “You’re not a disappointment, Draco. And I don’t think she sees you that way at all. If anything, she’s proud of you. I can tell.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting back to the roses. “I know that in theory… sometimes I catch it in the way she looks at me. Like she sees more in me than I do.”

“Because she does,” I say gently, stepping closer to him. “And maybe one day, you’ll see it too.”

He lets out a quiet breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You’re annoyingly good at this, you know.”

I smile, reaching out to brush a stray snowflake from his hair. “At what?”

“Making people feel like they’re worth something,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “It’s… infuriating, really.”

I laugh, the sound light and warm against the cold. “Well, get used to it. Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

His smile truly reaches his eyes, and it’s enough to make my heart skip a beat.

“Why’d you want to come out here?” I ask softly, steering the conversation to something less heavy.

He chuckles gratefully, turning to walk to a different part of the manor grounds. “Because I like the snow. And the outdoors. Helps me feel less… suffocated, you know?”

I hum in agreement. “I can understand that. I usually escape to the library, or our practice studio. It’s nice to focus on something else for a little while. You know, instead of worrying about all the shady things our parents are probably thinking up.”

He nods before turning to face me, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Speaking of, we never did get to go through Dumbledore’s office.”

I freeze, my eyes going wide. He notices immediately.

“Don’t tell me you—”

“I had to,” I cut him off, wincing at the guilt. “I didn’t want you involved if something went wrong.”

He shakes his head, exasperated. “I don’t need you to protect me. I’m more than capable of making my own choices. We were supposed to go together in case something did happen.”

“I’m sorry,” I reply, looking at him earnestly. “I’ll tell you next time, I promise. But I won’t promise not to protect you when I have the chance, because I will. Every time.”

Draco runs a hand through his hair, his breath visible in the cold air as he exhales. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“So you’ve said,” I reply with a small smile, trying to ease the tension. “What did you expect me to do? Risk you getting caught, too?”

His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “That’s not the point. We’re in this together—whether you like it or not. If something’s dangerous, we face it together. Got it?”

I nod, biting my lip to keep from arguing. “Got it.”

He studies me for a moment, his expression softening slightly. “So? What did you find?”

I hesitate, glancing down at the snow beneath my boots. “I… found out something about my father. About my family.”

Draco’s brows knit together, his voice gentler now. “What is it?”

I take a deep breath, my words tumbling out in a rush. “His last name isn’t Lavigné. It’s Alderwood. My parents changed it when they moved countries. I don’t know why exactly, but whatever they were running from… it must have been serious.”

Draco looks stunned, his eyes searching mine. “Alderwood? That’s… different.”

“Right?” I agree. “But that’s all I know. My father never talked about his side of the family. He never even mentioned his real last name. I only found out through one of Dumbledore’s memories in a Pensieve.”

Draco’s expression darkens. “So they were hiding? From what?”

“I have no idea,” I admit, frustration seeping into my voice. “But it feels like every time I get closer to answers, I end up with even more questions. I don’t even know who I really am. What my real heritage is.”

He steps closer, his voice low but firm. “You’re you. That’s all that matters.”

I glance up at him, startled by the intensity in his tone. “But what if—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupts. “Whatever your parents were running from, it doesn’t define you. And whoever your family is, it doesn’t change the person standing in front of me right now.”

His words hit me harder than I expect, and I feel a lump rising in my throat. “Draco…”

He smirks faintly, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, I like you better as Lavigné. Alderwood sounds too… stuffy.”

A surprised laugh escapes me, and I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug. “But I mean it. You’re still you. And I’ll help you figure out the rest—if you’ll let me.”

My chest feels lighter, the weight of uncertainty easing just a little. “I’d like that,” I whisper.

We fall into step again, walking side by side through the snow, the silence between us warm and reassuring. The world is quiet, save for the sound of the snow crunching under our feet.

I look up at Draco’s side profile—his sharp features, softened by the pink in his cheeks from the cold. I’ve always known he was handsome, but in moments like these, I really get to appreciate it.

I clear my throat, slipping my hand into his pocket, intertwining our fingers. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

He gives my hand a squeeze, the warmth of his palm calming me. “Yes?”

I sigh, biting my lip as I gather my thoughts. “It’s about my training. Like you heard at dinner our first night, I have to start again tomorrow.”

“Right,” he replies, his voice carrying an edge to it. “I nearly forgot about that.”

His thumb starts to move back and forth over mine, and I subtly appreciate how much it settles my nerves despite the heavy topic. “I just… I wanted to warn you. I can be different after practicing certain things. More irritable, constantly exhausted. Dark magic takes a lot out of me, and I have to fight really hard not to let it consume me. Not to let it change me.”

Draco tilts his head, studying my face. “You’re worried I’ll think differently of you.”

He says it as a statement, not a question, and it makes me feel see-through. I shrug my shoulders, brushing it off.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

He pulls both hands out of his pockets and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. My heart skips a beat as he whispers into my hair, “My opinion of you will never change. I know who you are. That’s all that matters to me.”

His words settle over me like a warm blanket, melting away some of the fear I hadn’t even realized I was carrying. I close my eyes, letting myself lean into him, the scent of cedarwood and fresh snow grounding me in this moment.

“Thank you,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. It’s all I can manage to say, but I hope he can hear the gratitude behind it.

Draco pulls back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. The sincerity in his gaze is overwhelming, and for a moment, the world around us feels even quieter, as if it’s holding its breath.

“I mean it,” he says softly, his voice steady and sure. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. And if it gets hard—if it ever feels like it’s too much—you have me.”

His words stir something deep within me, a warmth I can’t quite describe. I nod, not trusting myself to speak without my voice breaking.

“Come on,” he says after a moment, his lips quirking into a small, reassuring smile. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before taking my hand again. “Let’s get inside before we both turn into icicles.”

I laugh softly, grateful for the shift in tone, and fall into step beside him once more. The snow continues to crunch under our feet, and though the air is biting, my chest feels lighter than it has in days.

~

“Y/n,” Narcissa calls out to me from the foyer, “you have a visitor.”

Draco and I look at each other at the same time, standing up from the couch.

“I didn’t know you were expecting anyone,” he says curiously.

I shake my head. “I wasn’t.”

We walk down the hall to the foyer, and I see a curly head of hair looming over Narcissa with a charming smile. My eyes go wide in surprise, though I can’t contain my excitement.

“Aury!” I exclaim, running up to him. “What are you doing here?”

He ruffles my hair, stepping fully inside as Narcissa closes the door behind him. “I’ve never missed seeing you on Christmas, mon étoile. Why would I start now?”

I laugh lightly, wrapping him up in a hug. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I had a feeling,” he says with a wink.

I pull back, nodding. Of course. Hermione told him. “Right. Makes sense.”

Draco stands awkwardly to the side, before tugging on his mother’s sleeve. “We’ll just… give you two some space,” he says softly, his lips a thin line.

Now this is some character development. I can’t believe Draco is leaving me alone with Aurélien considering his feelings towards him—and Aury’s feelings towards me. He must really trust me.

I give him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Aurélien watches Draco and Narcissa disappear down the hall, his brows raising slightly as he leans closer to me. “Is it just me, or does Monsieur Malfoy seem… unusually civil?” he teases, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “It’s been a long semester,” I reply vaguely, not particularly in the mood to explain the complexities of my relationship with Draco right now. “But enough about that. Why are you really here, Aury? It’s not like you to show up without a reason.”

He grins, pulling something from the pocket of his coat. “Ah, you know me too well. I wanted to give you this.”

I glance down as he places a small, velvet-wrapped box in my hands. My heart skips a beat at the sight of it. “What is this?” I ask, looking back up at him.

“A little something for luck,” he says casually, though his tone carries a layer of warmth that makes me pause. “I know you’ve been trapped with your parents, and they’re… intense. I thought you could use a reminder that you’re not alone.”

I hesitate for a moment, my fingers brushing over the soft fabric of the wrapping, before carefully untying the ribbon. Inside is a delicate silver pin—a star, its surface glittering faintly as if it holds its own light.

“Aury,” I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. “It’s beautiful.”

He shrugs, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more earnest. “You’re mon étoile—my star. I couldn’t think of anything else that suited you more.”

I blink quickly, trying to push back the sudden sting of tears. “Thank you. This means… so much.”

Aurélien tilts his head, his gaze steady. “You don’t have to thank me. Just promise me you’ll wear it. Especially when things get hard.”

I nod, clipping it onto my top. “I promise.”

He smiles, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. “Good. Now, are you going to give me the grand tour of this place, or do I have to find my way around on my own?”

I laugh, feeling unusually at ease. “Come on. Let me show you the library first. It’s practically a maze—you’ll love it.”

As I lead Aurélien down the hall, I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of Draco watching us from the end of the corridor. His expression is unreadable, but the way he straightens and turns away sends a pang of guilt through me.

For a moment, I wonder if accepting Aurélien’s gift has only made things more complicated. But then I feel the weight of the tap bracelet on my wrist, grounding me, and decide not to dwell on it.

One thing at a time.

I show him through the manor, taking special care to tell him about my favorite spots. The practice room, the library, the sitting room with the grand piano, the bedroom they set up for me. I linger outside of Draco’s room for a moment, recalling how much of our relationship developed in there—starting with the very first time he patched me up. The first time he took care of me.

“He treats you well?” Aury asks, though the question sounds rhetorical. I pull my gaze off of his room, leading him down to one of the main sitting rooms.

“Of course he does,” I reply, a fond smile playing on my lips. “He’s very gentle with me. And he knows me inside and out—he pays attention, I guess.”

Aurélien hums thoughtfully, settling into one of the armchairs in the sitting room. “Gentle, huh? That’s not exactly the word I’d use to describe Draco Malfoy.”

I laugh lightly, sitting across from him. “You’d be surprised. He’s not the same person you might have heard about. He’s… complicated. But once you get past the walls, he’s one of the most thoughtful people you’ll ever meet.”

“And here I thought you had him all figured out,” Aurélien teases. “He must mean a lot to you.”

“He does,” I admit softly, my voice laced with sincerity. “He’s been there for me in ways I didn’t think anyone could be. He understands parts of me that I barely understand myself.”

Aurélien studies me for a moment, his usual playful expression fading into something more serious. “I’m glad,” he says finally. “I was worried about you when I first heard you were staying here, but… hearing you talk about him like this? I think you’re in good hands.”

I smile, my fingers brushing over the pin Aurélien gave me. “I am. And for the record, I’ve missed you too, you know. You’re still one of my most important people.”

Aurélien’s grin returns, though it’s softer this time. “Good. Wouldn’t want anyone stealing my spot.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have plenty of love to give both of you,” I chuckle, leaning back into the seat.

My ears perk up when I hear what sounds like footsteps—faint, but the sound is unmistakable. I look through the doorway and I swear I see a glimpse of blond hair across the hall, but it’s gone before I can be sure.

I shake my head, convinced that maybe I imagined it.

“Love,” Aurélien echoes, a knowing look on his face. His tone is light, almost teasing.

I narrow my eyes at him, already anticipating the direction of his thoughts. “Don’t start,” I warn, though there’s no real bite to my voice.

“Moi?” Aurélien says, feigning innocence as he leans back in the armchair. “I didn’t say anything. Yet.”

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “What is it now?”

He grins mischievously. “You’ve got that look in your eyes when you talk about him. The same one you had back at Beauxbatons when you used to talk about wanting to adopt every stray cat you came across. That… soft look.”

I scoff, though my cheeks flush slightly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not,” he counters, his grin widening. “But don’t worry, mon étoile. I think it suits you.”

I groan and throw a pillow at him, which he catches with ease. “You’re impossible.”

“True,” he says, tossing the pillow back onto the couch. “But that’s why you love me.”

Shaking my head with a smile, I change the subject before he can press further. “So, have you been in touch with the trio lately? I know they’re still at the Weasley’s, but it’s been hard to keep track of everyone.”

Aurélien nods, his expression growing more serious. “I wrote them not too long ago. They’re still lying low and doing their research. Harry was asking about you, actually. Said they’re waiting on us to arrange a proper meeting.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “It’s about time, isn’t it? There’s so much we need to figure out—especially with all the new pieces coming into play. Do you think they’d be able to meet after the holidays?”

“They’ll make it work,” he assures me. “Harry mentioned they’ve been gathering more information about—you know.” He lowers his voice, a flicker of worry crossing his features. “Dumbledore’s clues. And Hermione is working on what you found out about your father. But they’ll need us to fill in the gaps on what we’ve learned here.”

I nod, already feeling the weight of what’s to come pressing down on me. “I’ll write to them tonight. Maybe we can meet the first week of January. That’ll give everyone enough time to prepare.”

Aurélien leans forward, his hand resting over mine. “We’ll figure this out together. Just like always.”

I smile at him, grateful for his steady presence. “Just like always.”

The sound of footsteps echoes faintly again, and this time I know I’m not imagining it. My gaze darts to the doorway, and for a brief moment, I catch Draco’s silhouette retreating down the hall.

Aurélien notices my distraction and raises an eyebrow. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” I reply quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw something.”

I brush it off, but a part of me wonders how much Draco overheard—and what he might be thinking now.

Aurélien stands up, offering me his hand. “I’ll take that as my cue, then. I need to be getting back to France anyway before my parents figure out I left.”

I chuckle, taking his hand to pull myself up. “You could’ve just told them. They love me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replies playfully, walking me back to the front door.

“Thank you,” I say softly, giving him another hug. “For visiting, for the pin—for everything.”

He wraps his arms around me tightly, resting his cheek on the top of my head. “Anytime, mon soleil. Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.”

With that he walks out, and I close the door behind him. After I lock it back, I turn around and jump to see Narcissa and Draco standing there with curious looks on their faces.

“Wow, you two are quiet,” I chuckle nervously, trying to steady my heart rate.

Narcissa tilts her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That was Aurélien, wasn’t it?”

I blink, caught off guard. “You… how do you know about Aurélien?”

Draco shifts awkwardly, glancing away as Narcissa continues. “Your French friend from Beauxbatons. Draco’s letters have told me about him.”

My confusion deepens, and I glance at Draco. “Letters? What letters?”

Draco’s cheeks flush a light pink as he crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s not what you think.”

Narcissa, on the other hand, looks positively amused. “Oh, I don’t know. You wrote about him often enough. Something about him being ‘insufferable,’ ‘too charming for his own good,’ and my personal favorite, ‘thinks he’s the center of the universe.’”

Draco lets out an exasperated sigh. “Mother.”

I stare at him, torn between disbelief and laughter. “You wrote to your parents about Aurélien? Why?”

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. “Because he was annoying,” he mutters. “Always showing up, acting like he knows everything about you. And—” He cuts himself off, clenching his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

I raise an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “You were jealous.”

“I was not jealous,” Draco snaps, his face turning red. “I was concerned. He clearly has feelings for you, and I didn’t trust him.”

Narcissa smirks knowingly. “You certainly wrote like you were jealous, darling.”

Draco groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we please not do this right now?”

I can’t help but laugh softly, stepping closer to him. “You don’t need to worry about Aurélien. He’s like family to me. That’s all.”

Draco finally looks at me, his expression softening slightly. “I know.”

Narcissa shakes her head in amusement, looking back at me. “Did he have a reason to visit, dear? Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” I say smoothly, not wanting to give away too much. “He just wanted to give me this.”

I pull off the pin and hand it to her, and she turns it over gently in her hands.

“This is beautiful,” she says softly, watching how the pin catches the light. “A Christmas gift, I assume?”

I nod. “Yes. I’ve spent every Christmas with him for four years now.” I take the pin back, fastening it pack onto my shirt. “He calls me étoile. It means—”

“Star,” she finishes for me, smiling gently. “In French, yes?”

I blink in surprise. “You speak French?”

Narcissa nods, her expression turning reminiscent. “I do. It was an expectation growing up in certain wizarding circles. Many high-class wizards and witches in France preferred to conduct themselves in their native tongue, and my parents insisted I learn it to fit in.” Her lips curve into a small smile. “I must say, it’s been years since I’ve had the opportunity to use it, but it seems some things stick.”

I glance at Draco, raising an eyebrow. “And you?”

Draco shrugs, his hands slipping into his pockets. “She made sure I learned it too. ‘A proper Malfoy is always prepared,’” he says, imitating her voice with a smirk.

Narcissa gives him a pointed look, though her amusement is clear. “And a proper Malfoy never mocks his mother.”

I can’t help but laugh, imagining a younger Draco studying French begrudgingly under Narcissa’s watchful eye. “So, you could’ve understood Aurélien this whole time?”

Draco’s smirk deepens. “Every word. Including the parts where he called me ‘arrogant’ and ‘a thorn in his side.’”

My jaw drops. “Wait—he didn’t—”

“Oh, he did,” Draco interrupts, his tone smug. “Your cher Aurélien isn’t as subtle as he thinks.”

I groan, rubbing my temples. “I can’t be held accountable for what he says to my old classmates when I’m not around. But don’t worry, he’s not getting off easy for that.”

Narcissa chuckles softly. “Now, now. He seems to care about you a great deal, and you clearly value him.” Her gaze shifts between us, a flicker of something knowing in her eyes. “But if I may say, it’s clear where your heart truly lies.”

Draco glances at me then, his expression unreadable, though there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. I meet his gaze, my heart skipping a beat before I quickly look away, unsure how to respond.

“Well,” Narcissa says, breaking the silence with a graceful smile, “if you ever wish to use your native tongue, I’d be happy to oblige. And Draco could always use the refresher.”

“Mother,” Draco mutters, but there’s no real bite in his tone.

I grin, the tension in the room easing. “I might just take you up on that, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Narcissa,” she corrects me once more, tilting her head. “You needn’t be so formal with me, dear.”

“Right, right,” I laugh. “I’m working on it.”

She gives me an approving nod, but Draco groans. “Great, just what I need. You two on a first name basis.”

“Oh, relax,” I tease, tousling his hair. “You should be glad your mother and your future wife get along.”

His cheeks flush at the implication, though he clears his throat, trying not to show it.

“Future wife?” he repeats, arching a brow and crossing his arms, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrays his attempt to stay composed. “A bit early for that, don’t you think?”

I smirk, enjoying the rare sight of him flustered. “I’m just saying, it’s good to think ahead.”

Narcissa, ever graceful, suppresses a smile, clearly amused by the exchange. “It’s lovely to see such… enthusiasm for the future,” she says lightly, though the way her eyes flicker between us feels deliberate.

Draco shifts awkwardly, shooting her a half-hearted glare. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, but I think I am,” she replies smoothly, brushing past him to check a nearby vase of fresh roses. “A strong partnership requires trust, compatibility, and, of course, a shared sense of humor. It seems you’re well on your way.”

“Mother,” Draco groans again, this time burying his face in his hands.

I laugh, nudging him gently. “See? She approves.”

“Merlin help me,” he mutters, though the corner of his mouth twitches, fighting back a smile.

Narcissa turns back toward us, her expression softer now. “It’s rare to see Draco so at ease with anyone. You’re good for him, Y/n.”

Draco’s head snaps up, and he stares at her, startled. “Mother…” His voice comes out whiny, and I get a glimpse of what he must have sounded like as a small child.

“It’s true,” she says matter-of-factly. “And if you don’t see that yet, Draco, you will.”

The room falls silent for a moment, and I glance at him, catching the subtle shift in his expression—confusion, hesitation, and something warmer all at once.

“Well,” I say, breaking the tension with a lighthearted tone, “if that’s not a glowing endorsement, I don’t know what is.”

Draco scoffs, but there’s no real venom behind it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” I reply with a grin, earning an eye roll from him.

Narcissa chuckles softly, stepping toward the doorway. “I’ll leave you two to… whatever it is you do.” She pauses, glancing back at Draco with a knowing smile. “Do try to behave.”

As she leaves, I turn to him, unable to resist teasing. “So, not a fan of the title, huh?”

He groans, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still standing here,” I counter, my grin widening.

He shakes his head, but there’s a softness in his gaze now, one that makes my heart flutter. “Lucky me,” he murmurs, almost too quiet to hear.

I chuckle and pull him up into the library, shutting the door behind us.

“Now that your mother is gone,” I say softly, my smile fading a bit, “Aury was saying Harry is waiting for us to coordinate the next team meeting. I’m thinking next week. Is that okay?”

He runs a hand through his hair, following me as I sit down, never leaving my side. “Yeah, that works. How are we getting there?”

“Floo,” I reply, folding my legs up under me. “Unless you want to apparate. Either way, we’ll have to give our parents a cover story.”

“Or,” he starts, settling in next to me, “we just don’t tell them.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, leaning back slightly. “Oh, yeah? And when they notice we’re gone, what’s your brilliant plan then?”

Draco smirks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “They won’t. And if they do? Let them think what they want. We don’t owe them every detail of our whereabouts.”

I huff a quiet laugh. “You make it sound so simple. You know your parents are going to ask questions. And mine? Forget it. My mother will have a full interrogation lined up the moment I step back through the door.”

He shrugs, leaning closer so our shoulders touch. “So? Let them interrogate. It’s not like they’ll get anything out of us.”

I glance at him, skeptical. “You’re underestimating how relentless my mother can be. She’ll twist me up into knots before I can even think of a believable excuse.”

Draco tilts his head, watching me with an amused expression. “Then it’s a good thing I’m a practiced liar, isn’t it? I’ll handle them.”

“You?” I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You’d throw me under the Knight Bus in a heartbeat.”

“Never,” he replies, his voice softer now, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “I’d lie for you any day. So, next week, then?”

“Next week,” I confirm, leaning back and resting my head against the side of the chair. “We’ll meet Harry and the others in France. Floo should work just fine.”

“France,” he muses, his tone lighter now. “I assume Aurélien will be there?”

“Of course,” I reply, smirking. “You two can finally bond.”

Draco snorts. “Right. Because he’s been dying to bond with me.”

I grin, nudging him with my elbow. “You could at least try, you know. He’s not that bad.”

Draco gives me a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s progress,” I tease, settling more comfortably against him. “Small steps, Malfoy.”

He doesn’t reply right away, and when I glance up, I catch him watching me again, that same softness lingering in his gaze.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Small steps.”