The Pact

The spare study is dimly lit and cold, with candle flames flickering around the room in various places. Ominous shadows are cast on every wall, putting me on edge.

My mother is near the fire place with her arms crossed, staring me down as usual. My father and Lucius are on the other side of the room, studying me from their seats.

“Again,” my mother commands, her voice sharp.

I clench my jaw, closing my eyes as I try to summon the magic out of my core and down through my fingertips. I can feel it crackle and hum in my palms as I release a dark purple shock towards the target in front of me.

It makes contact with a crack, though my mother still isn’t pleased.

“Too slow,” she critiques, stepping forward. “The point of your training is for you to be able to use your magic accurately and quickly. Try again.”

My father sighs. “Grace. She’s been at this for hours. Give her a break.”

My mother shakes her head, tapping her foot impatiently. “Absolutely not. She’s avoided practicing for months now and you can see how behind she is. This isn’t enough. She must keep going until she gets it right.”

I tap my bracelet as they argue back and forth. Tap tap. “Miss you.”

Draco responds quickly as always. Tap tap. “Miss you.”

“Honestly, Grace, she’s pathetic,” Lucius drawls, eyeing me sharply. “I’ve seen better control from a witch under a confundus charm.”

I exhale sharply, gritting my teeth. I’d like to see him try since he thinks he’s so high and mighty, correcting me from his comfortable little arm chair.

My mother throws her hands up in exasperation. “What else am I supposed to do? You can lead a witch to a wand, but you can’t make her—”

I cut her off with another, faster, stronger curse thrown at the target. It flashes bright blue as the dummy smacks against the wall, causing a loud bang to ring out.

All three of them whip their heads around to look at me, seeming equal parts shocked, impressed, and pissed.

The room falls silent for a beat, the air thick with the crackling tension. The target is slumped against the wall, now smoking from the impact of the spell I just cast. The dark blue energy still lingers in the air like a faint, swirling haze.

My mother stares at the target, then at me, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “That’s more like it,” she mutters, but there’s no trace of approval in her voice—only a cold, calculating edge.

Lucius slowly rises from his seat, his gaze piercing as he examines the damage. “Impressive,” he says, his tone as smooth as ever, though it carries a thin layer of mockery. “Finally, some semblance of competence.”

I clench my fists, feeling the heat of anger rise, but I keep my expression neutral. I’m not going to let them provoke me into losing control.

“Don’t get cocky,” my mother snaps. “That was one shot. You’re still lacking the consistency you need. It’s not enough to land one successful hit—you need precision with every strike.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to let her see how much those words hurt. Part of me wants to prove them wrong. I am capable.

My father steps forward, his tone more measured, though it’s still tinged with concern. “Grace, give her a moment. She’s been pushing herself nonstop for hours. You can’t expect perfection every time.”

My mother glares at him but doesn’t respond, clearly not in the mood for leniency. She turns her gaze back to me, and the firelight flickers in her eyes, reflecting the coldness that’s always simmered just beneath the surface.

“Again,” she commands, her voice unwavering.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her stare on me, the pressure mounting with every passing second. I can’t afford to fail again—not with Lucius here, not with my father watching, and certainly not with my mother’s expectations hanging over me like a guillotine.

But I can’t shake the feeling of Draco’s presence, even though he’s not here. It’s as if his encouragement, his quiet support, is still with me, urging me forward. Tap tap. I smile faintly at the thought.

“Focus,” my mother cuts through my thoughts sharply. “You won’t get anywhere daydreaming.”

I snap my eyes open, forcing the magic to surge within me, feeling it gather and swirl in my palms like an electric current. This time, I don’t hesitate. I let the magic flow out of me in one swift motion, aiming for the target with a controlled but powerful burst of energy.

I throw another, then another, in rapid succession until the magic compounds, enveloping it in a swirling, crackling web, holding the dummy in place before it finally falls limp.

My mother’s lips twitch, her eyes narrowing as she inspects the result. Lucius, however, doesn’t hide his surprise. He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed but careful to mask it.

“Well,” he drawls, his voice laced with something close to grudging respect, “it seems there’s some fire in you after all.”

“That’s my girl,” my father adds, though his tone is quieter, more thoughtful.

I don’t acknowledge them, still staring at the now-motionless dummy. The brief surge of satisfaction is fleeting, replaced by an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and guilt.

“Better,” my mother says, but it’s a cold sort of approval. “You’re still behind, but it’s progress.”

I glance at her, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Behind? What else would you like me to do? Blow it up?”

Lucius stands, his presence looming large even from across the room. “Watch your tongue, girl. You’re lucky to be given the resources to cultivate this clearly underdeveloped skill of yours.”

Exhausted, annoyed and completely sick of trying to bite my tongue, I snap. “Resources? I’ve been given nothing! You three sit and stare at me like an animal being raised for slaughter, expecting me to throw curses I don’t even know the names of, offering nothing but criticism and insults every time I do!”

The words hang in the air like a thick fog, settling over everyone in the room. My parents are about to chastise me when Lucius takes a few quick strides towards me with a calculating look on his face.

“You’d do well to watch your temper,” he sneers, pointing the top of his cane at me like a knife to the throat. “But since you seem to think you’re so far ahead, why don’t you prove it against a real wizard, hm?”

My father strides towards us now, placing a firm hand on Lucius’ shoulder. “Absolutely not. Lucius, I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything,” he snaps back, never taking his eyes off me. “She needs an attitude adjustment, and I’d be more than happy to show her what real training looks like.”

My mother narrows her eyes. “No. This is not up for debate.”

“Grace,” Lucius starts, his tone cold but syrupy sweet, “she said herself that she doesn’t feel as if she’s learning anything with you and Castor in these stuffy rooms. Maybe she needs a little… push.”

My parents are fuming now, but Lucius only looks at me, his gaze heavy. “Unless, of course, you’re not up for the challenge.”

The air in the room feels electric, charged with tension. My hands curl into fists at my sides as I hold Lucius’s gaze, the weight of his challenge pressing down on me. The magic swirls inside my veins, threatening the image of myself I previously had, as all I can think about is the burning anger in my chest at his snide remarks.

I step up to him, raising my nose in a defiant gesture.  “I’ll duel you.”

The room falls deathly silent. My father stiffens, his jaw tightening, while my mother’s expression flickers between shock and fury. Even Lucius seems momentarily taken aback before a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face.

“Well, well,” he drawls, stepping back and gesturing to the center of the room as if presenting a stage. “I wasn’t expecting you to accept, but this will make for an entertaining evening.”

“Lucius, this is absurd,” my father growls, his voice low and dangerous. “She’s been training for hours. She’s exhausted.”

“Perfect,” Lucius counters smoothly, adjusting his cufflinks with an air of nonchalance. “Real battles don’t wait for ideal conditions. Besides, she’s so eager to prove herself. Why deny her the opportunity?”

“She’s not dueling you,” my mother snaps, her voice like a whip. “This isn’t some game, Lucius. She’s still—”

“—woefully untested,” Lucius finishes for her, his tone sharp and mocking. “And isn’t that the point? You’ve been molding her for years, haven’t you? Let’s see the results of your hard work.”

I can feel my parents’ hesitation, their anger simmering just beneath the surface, but I’m already stepping forward. “I said I’ll do it,” I repeat, louder this time. “Let’s get it over with.”

Lucius’s smile grows, and he turns toward the door. “Dobby!” he calls sharply.

The little house-elf appears with a pop, bowing low to the ground. “Yes, Master Malfoy, sir?”

“Summon Draco and Narcissa to the study immediately,” Lucius commands, his voice curt. “They’ll want to witness this… demonstration.”

Dobby glances nervously between Lucius and me, his wide eyes lingering on my face for a moment as if silently apologizing, before nodding. “Right away, Master Malfoy.” With another pop, he disappears.

My mother steps closer, lowering her voice as she hisses at Lucius. “You’re walking a dangerous line. If anything happens to her—”

“Nothing will happen,” Lucius interrupts, his tone smug. “I’m simply offering her the education you seem unable to provide.”

“You’re not helping,” my father snaps at him, but I barely register their argument. My focus is entirely on Lucius, on the way he’s already basking in the idea of humiliating me in front of his family. My blood boils at the thought.

Honestly, even if it weren’t for the invisible shield of the bond, I’m not in the least bit worried. Lucius is an arrogant man, and I have no reason to believe he’s a particularly clever or coordinated wizard. I think it’s all show, and I’m going to prove it.

When the door opens, and Draco and Narcissa step in, confusion flickers across their faces. Narcissa’s gaze immediately darts to Lucius, her brow furrowing. “What is going on here?”

“Ah, perfect timing,” Lucius says, gesturing grandly toward me. “Our guest here has graciously agreed to a little duel. I thought you both might enjoy the show.”

Draco’s eyes snap to mine, his expression hardening. “A duel?” he echoes, his voice laced with disbelief. “With you?”

“Against me,” Lucius corrects, clearly relishing the moment. “She seems to believe she’s ready.”

Draco takes a step forward, his face a mix of concern and anger. “She’s been training all day. This is ridiculous.”

“She’s the one who accepted,” Lucius says, his tone sharp and dismissive. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have a lesson to deliver.”

Draco looks at me, his jaw tight. “You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly, his voice softer now. “You know that, right?”

I meet his gaze, and for a moment, the worry in his eyes almost makes me hesitate. Almost. But then I glance at Lucius, at the way he’s already positioning himself in the center of the room, and my resolve hardens.

“I want to” I reply, stepping forward to face Lucius. “And I’m going to.”

Draco looks at his mother desperately, then at me. “No, you’re not acting like yourself. You need to—”

“Stay out of this, Draco,” I snap, my gaze piercing. “You don’t get to decide for me.”

He sputters in disbelief, and hurt flickers across his face before his mother puts a hand on his shoulder, calling him back towards the wall.

She leans closer to him, whispering, “You can’t help her while she’s in this state. All you can do is let her try.”

Draco relents as I step into the center, squaring off against Lucius Malfoy. The flickering candlelight throws jagged shadows across his face, making his smirk look even more sinister. He flourishes his wand with a practiced ease, his gaze cold and calculating.

“Very well,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with condescension. “Let’s see what you’re capable of, girl. If you even are capable.”

My hands flex at my sides, the magic simmering just beneath the surface of my skin. I don’t need his approval. I don’t need anyone’s approval.

Lucius nods curtly. “Bow,” he commands.

I stay rooted to the spot, my eyes locked on his. “No.”

His smirk falters for the briefest of moments, replaced by a flicker of irritation. “Suit yourself.”

Without warning, he strikes first. A sharp flick of his wand sends a jet of red light hurtling toward me. I react instinctively, raising a hand and deflecting the spell with a shield of raw energy that sparks purple as it dissipates.

Lucius raises an eyebrow. “Not bad,” he drawls. “But let’s see how long you can keep up.”

He fires again, this time a barrage of quick, precise spells designed to overwhelm. I sidestep, duck, and weave, my movements fluid and deliberate. With each dodge, I counter, sending bolts of dark energy streaking toward him. He blocks them with ease, but I can see the slight narrowing of his eyes—he didn’t expect me to fight back this effectively.

“Impressive,” he admits, though his tone is mocking. “For a novice.”

I grit my teeth and push harder, summoning more power from the depths of my core. The next spell I cast isn’t just a simple attack—it’s a wave of crackling, violet energy that surges toward him like a tidal wave. Lucius is forced to throw up a shield, and the sheer force of the impact makes him take a step back.

“Enough games,” he snarls, his composure slipping. He lunges forward, sending a particularly vicious curse my way. I catch it midair, twisting the energy in my palm before hurling it back at him. It explodes against the wall behind him, leaving scorch marks in its wake.

From the corner of my eye, I see Draco tense, his fists clenched. Narcissa watches with a mask of calm, but her fingers are tightly intertwined, betraying her nerves.

Lucius advances again, his wand moving in intricate patterns. This time, his spell aims to immobilize me. The ropes of magic streak toward me, but I don’t let them touch me. Instead, I slam my hands together, sending a shockwave outward that shreds the bindings before they can reach me.

The sheer power of the spell forces Lucius back a few steps, and he glares at me with a mix of irritation and respect. “You’ve been holding back,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“Maybe,” I reply, my tone defiant. “I like to keep people on their toes.”

He smiles thinly. “We’ll see about that.”

Lucius moves faster now, his spells sharp and relentless. I match him, pouring everything I have into the fight. My magic doesn’t come from incantations or wands—it comes from me, raw and unfiltered. Every spell he casts, I meet with equal force, my magic crackling in the air like a storm ready to break.

Finally, he sends a powerful, blinding curse toward me, one meant to disarm and incapacitate. I raise both hands, catching the magic midair and twisting it in on itself. The spell implodes in a burst of light, and when the smoke clears, I’m still standing.

Lucius lowers his wand slightly, his expression unreadable. The room is silent except for the sound of my labored breathing.

“Well,” he says at last, his voice tight. “Perhaps you’re not as useless as I thought.”

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “And you’re not as invincible as you think.”

Behind him, Draco’s lips twitch as though he’s suppressing a smile, but Narcissa’s expression is unreadable. My parents exchange a glance, my father’s face filled with quiet pride, while my mother’s is carefully neutral.

Lucius inclines his head, a grudging acknowledgment. “I suppose we’ll stop there. For now.”

I straighten, adjusting my shirt. My heart pounds, and my muscles ache, but I refuse to show weakness. Not here. Not now.

Draco moves toward me as Lucius turns away, muttering something about a drink. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” I cut him off, my voice firm.

I throw the doors to the room open with a burst of energy, causing them to smack violently against the walls as I storm out. A silent fury is still ripping through my body, and all I want to do is destroy something. It’s problematic for the simple fact that this isn’t my manor, and I don’t have a designated space to properly let off steam.

“Where are you going?” Draco questions me as he nearly jogs to catch up with me, worry etched all over his face.

“Out,” I reply shortly, flinging open the front door and trudging through without so much as grabbing a coat.

I pull out my wand to apparate, but just as I cast the spell, Draco grabs my arm and is pulled through the squeezing blackness with me.

We land in the middle of the woods, surrounded by trees and tall rocky mountains and peaks.

I came hiking here once on muggle experience day at Beauxbatons, and it’s the perfect place for me to fly off the handle without hurting anybody. The paths have become overgrown and closed off (thanks to me after a particularly bad training session) and now it’s completely my own.

I wrench my arm from Draco’s grasp, ignoring the way he stumbles slightly from the rough terrain. My magic is bubbling under my skin like molten lava, demanding release, and I can’t contain it any longer.

“Leave,” I snap at him, my voice sharp as a whip. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Draco’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move. “You’re not thinking straight,” he says, his voice low and careful, as though I’m a bomb that might go off any second. “I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“Suit yourself,” I bite out, turning away from him.

I raise my hands, letting the rage take control. With a burst of energy, I send a massive shockwave outward, shattering the rocks in front of me into shards that fly in every direction. Trees sway and crack under the force, their branches groaning as they bend to my will. The ground beneath my feet trembles, and the magic pours out of me like a storm unleashed.

Draco takes a step back, shielding his face as debris scatters through the air. “You’re going to hurt yourself!” he yells over the chaos.

“I don’t care!” I scream, my voice raw and broken. Another burst of magic erupts from my hands, slicing through a tree trunk and sending it crashing to the ground. The sound is deafening, but it only fuels my fury.

I whirl around, aiming at a cluster of jagged rocks. They explode into dust and rubble, the force of the blast making my chest heave.

Draco tries to step closer, his voice urgent. “Stop it! Something is going to hit you!”

Completely ignoring him, I levitate a boulder, hurling it as far out into the woods as I can, hearing it rip through the trees and branches in its path. I pull back my arm to fire another curse, to throw something, anything, before a firm hand grabs my wrist, stopping me.

Without thinking I whip around and unleash a wave of dark energy in Draco’s direction. It stops short of hitting him, dissipating harmlessly against the ground, but the sheer force sends him stumbling.

He doesn’t retaliate, doesn’t draw his wand. Instead, he stands there, his chest rising and falling as he watches me with wide, conflicted eyes. “You would never hurt me,” he says quietly, his voice steady despite the chaos around us. “You’re not yourself.”

His words cut deeper than any curse. I grit my teeth, my body trembling as the adrenaline begins to fade. The destruction around me feels hollow now—pointless. My breathing is ragged, and the magic inside me feels like it’s eating me alive.

Draco steps closer, cautiously. “You’re done,” he says firmly. “You’ve made your point. Now stop before you do something you’ll regret.”

I stare at him for just a moment before the magic fizzles out, leaving me completely exhausted. My legs give out from under me and I fall to the ground, my chest rising and falling rapidly and erratically.

Draco immediately sinks to his knees beside me, frantically grabbing at me as I try to come out of whatever’s taken hold of me.

I start to sputter and cough, rolling over onto my side to try to steady myself before my arms give out once more, but Draco catches me before I can take any damage.

My vision is blurred and sound is muffled. I’m sure he’s talking to me, but I can’t make any of it out. His voice is distant and distorted, though even with that I can tell how panicked he is.

I always hated the come down.

The dark magic itself is terrible, performing it is worse—but nothing can ever come close to the way it feels to come back to myself after I let it take control of me.

The anger, the fear, the guilt knowing that I was too weak to control it.

Usually, though, I’m alone when it happens.

Somehow it’s worse to know that Draco had to witness it, that he saw the side of me I’ve spent my entire life trying to hide away from the world.

I hate knowing that right now, at this very moment, he’s worrying about me because I couldn’t handle myself.

I hate it and I hate the way this feels and I hate myself, and I know that would shatter him more than anything else.

When my senses start to come back to me, I realize that Draco’s hands are on my shoulders, steadying me to the best of his ability. His voice finally starts to cut through the haze, though it’s strained and trembling.

“Hey—hey, look at me,” he says, his hands cupping my face now, forcing my head up. “Breathe. You’re going to be okay. Just… breathe.”

I try, but every inhale feels shallow, like I can’t fill my lungs no matter how hard I try. My fingers claw at his hands, trembling violently, and I can feel the tears stinging my eyes even as I fight to get him off of me.

“Stop,” I manage to croak, barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t—don’t look at me like this.”

Draco’s grip on my face tightens, but not painfully. It’s grounding, anchoring me to the moment as his silver-grey eyes bore into mine. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly. “So stop telling me to.”

I shake my head weakly, dropping my hands, the guilt and shame threatening to swallow me whole. “You saw… you saw what I did. What I am.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” he replies, his voice soft but unyielding. He shifts his position, sitting down fully on the ground, cradling me against his chest. His touch is gentle, but his arms around me feel like steel—strong, immovable.

I let out a broken laugh, one that sounds more like a sob. “You don’t get it, Draco. I lost control. I let it take over. And this… this is what happens when I do.” I gesture weakly to the wreckage around us—the splintered trees, the shattered rocks, the scars I’ve carved into the earth. “I’m dangerous.”

“You’re not dangerous to me,” he says simply, and the certainty in his tone makes my chest ache.

I want to argue, to push him away, but I’m too tired, too drained. Instead, I sag further against him, my head resting on his shoulder as the fight drains out of me.

For a while, we sit in silence, the only sound the distant rustle of leaves in the wind. Draco’s hand moves to my back, tracing slow, calming circles as he lets me come down at my own pace.

“I don’t care what you think you are,” he murmurs after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know who you are. And I’m not afraid of you.”

I close my eyes, letting his words sink in even as my mind protests. “You should be,” I whisper. But there’s no strength left in my voice. Just a quiet, aching defeat.

Draco’s fingers brush lightly against my temple, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re wrong,” he says simply. “And I’ll keep proving it to you, no matter how long it takes.”

I don’t have the energy to reply. Instead, I let myself lean into his touch, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing soothe me as I drift somewhere between consciousness and sleep.

When I come to again, I’m back at Malfoy Manor, laying in my bed. I can hear voices downstairs, heated and loud.

I can’t manage to get out of bed—I’m still too weak—so I opt to cast a lazy listening charm on the door, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“You’re lucky she didn’t kill you!” a male voice—my father’s—shouts. “Do you have any idea why we train her the way we do?”

Lucius raises his voice in response. “She’s a child! Blood or not, she lacks control, and we can’t have a loose cannon flitting about to carry out important tasks!”

“I can’t believe you!” Draco chimes in, sounding like he’s only just gotten to the room. “What possessed you to try to duel Y/n? You have years of experience over her—tenfold even! What if she got hurt?”

“Draco,” Narcissa soothes, her voice calm, “surely your father would never actually have hurt her. Would you, Lucius?”

There’s a long pause before anyone speaks again. My heart pounds in my chest.

“Draco, I told you to wait in your room,” Lucius starts, a false steadiness lacing his voice. “This does not concern you.”

“This does concern me!” Draco snaps, his voice sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “You don’t get to make decisions like that without thinking of the consequences—for her, for all of us.”

“Watch your tone,” Lucius warns, his voice dangerously low, but Draco doesn’t back down.

“You could’ve gotten her killed,” Draco continues, his anger boiling over. “Or worse—what if she’d hurt herself because of you? Do you even care, or is she just another piece on your chessboard?”

“Draco—” Narcissa interjects softly, but he cuts her off, his frustration palpable.

“No, Mother. I’m sick of this.” His voice shakes with a mix of rage and something else I can’t quite place. “Y/n is not a pawn. She’s not a weapon for you to wield when it suits you. She’s—” He hesitates, his voice faltering for a moment before hardening again. “She’s more than that. She’s a person, a brilliant witch, my future wife and the mother of the next Malfoy heir. Does that mean nothing to you?”

The silence that follows is suffocating, the tension in the room bleeding through the walls. My breathing hitches, and I feel a strange pang in my chest at Draco’s words—at the way his anger seems to stem from something deeper than I realized.

Lucius finally breaks the silence, his tone icy. “You forget yourself, Draco. This is not your place.”

“No,” Draco counters, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “It’s yours, isn’t it? To play god. To decide who’s useful and who isn’t. But you’re wrong about her. She’s stronger than you think, and she’s not going to break just because you want her to.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy, and I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I didn’t know he felt this way—didn’t know anyone felt this way about me.

Lucius’s response is curt. “Enough. You’ve made your point.”

Draco’s voice lowers, but the sharp edge remains. “Have I? Because I don’t think you understand how close you came to losing everything today.”

Another pause, and then the sound of footsteps—angry, deliberate. The door slams, and I know Draco has left the room.

The voices continue, softer now, but I can’t focus on the words. My mind is spinning, replaying everything I just heard. Draco’s defense of me was fierce, unwavering, and it felt… real in a way I’m not used to.

I close my eyes, willing my body to recover faster.

After a few moments, minutes maybe, I hear his voice right outside my door.

“He’s lucky I don’t—”

He stops short of whatever his sentence was supposed to be when he pokes his head in, seeing me awake.

“Oh, thank Merlin. You’re up. Are you okay?” He’s at my side in an instant, doting on me like an end of life healer.

Draco’s sudden presence takes me by surprise, his face a mix of relief and worry as he kneels beside me. His hands hover uncertainly, like he’s afraid to touch me but can’t keep his distance either.

“I’m fine,” I croak, though my voice betrays just how drained I feel. “You don’t have to fuss.”

“You call this fine?” he snaps, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Do you even realize what you just put yourself through? You nearly—” He cuts himself off, exhaling harshly as he runs a hand through his hair. “Merlin, Y/n, I thought you’d never wake up.”

He lets his head fall onto the mattress beside me, his hands clasped together as if he’s praying to the gods no one believes in. He looks so tired, so broken, so weak, and guilt tears through me once more.

I manage a weak smile, trying to diffuse the tension. “Takes more than that to knock me out for good.”

He doesn’t laugh. He looks up at me, his jaw tightens, and his eyes flicker with something I can’t quite place. “This isn’t a joke,” he says softly, his voice almost breaking. “You scared me.”

I blink at him, taken aback. It’s rare to see him this raw, this unguarded. The ever-composed Draco Malfoy is gone, replaced by someone who looks genuinely shaken.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

His expression softens, and he sits back slightly, raking a hand through his hair again. “It’s not just worry,” he mutters. “You were out there destroying everything in sight, completely consumed, and I—” He pauses, his gaze locking onto mine. “I couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

“You did,” I say quietly, remembering the way his voice cut through the haze of my rage. “You brought me back.”

His lips press into a thin line, and he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to do this, Y/n. Watching you tear yourself apart, trying to handle all of this alone… You’re going to destroy yourself if you keep this up.”

I look away, the weight of his words settling heavily on my chest. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know it’s not,” he replies, his voice soft but firm. “But you have me now. Let me help you. Please.”

There’s a desperation in his tone that tugs at something deep inside me, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. Letting him in feels dangerous, but the thought of pushing him away feels unbearable.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with me,” I murmur, my eyes still avoiding his. “I’m not your responsibility.”

“You’re not a responsibility,” he counters, leaning closer. “You’re… important. And I don’t care what it takes—I’m not going anywhere.”

His words leave me speechless, a lump forming in my throat as I finally meet his gaze. There’s no judgment there, no pity—just unwavering determination. It’s terrifying and comforting all at once.

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by everything—by him. “Draco, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts gently, his fingers brushing against mine. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just… rest. We’ll figure this out later.”

I look up at him helplessly, too tired to talk but too consumed with guilt to stay silent.

“How did you get me back?” I ask softly, slowly running my thumb over his knuckles. “To the manor, I mean.”

He takes my hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “I apparated with you, then carried you to bed. I was too nervous to wait for you to wake up out there.”

“My hero,” I say softly, giving him as much of a smile as I can muster. I won’t admit how shy I feel knowing that he carried me—but I can at least tell him, “Thank you.”

Before he can respond there’s a soft knock on the door, and Draco stands up, putting himself between me and the door protectively. I hear it creak open before seeing my mother’s silhouette in the doorframe, clear as day.

My mother’s presence fills the room with an instant chill. Even in the dim light, her posture is rigid, her gaze sharp as it sweeps over the scene in front of her. “Draco,” she says curtly, her tone clipped. “A moment alone with my daughter, if you please.”

Draco doesn’t move right away, his stance still protective, as if he’s deciding whether to argue. Finally, he glances down at me, his expression unreadable. “Will you be okay?” he asks softly, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I nod, giving his hand a small squeeze. “I’ll be fine,” I murmur, though I’m not entirely sure if it’s true.

He hesitates for a second longer before stepping aside, casting one last glance at my mother as if warning her not to overstep. “I’ll be right outside,” he says firmly, then turns and walks out, closing the door softly behind him.

The silence that follows is oppressive. My mother steps further into the room, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She stops at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed, and looks down at me with a mixture of disappointment and calculation.

“He was up here instantly, hm?”

I roll my eyes, my voice low. “He’s just worried. At least someone is.”

“All that aside, I trust you’re feeling well enough to listen,” she begins, her tone icy. “Because we have much to discuss.”

I straighten slightly, despite the ache in my body, refusing to show weakness. “I’m listening,” I reply, my voice steadier than I feel.

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, she doesn’t speak. Then she says, “Your behavior today was unacceptable. You embarrassed yourself, our family, and me. Do you have any idea the damage you could have done?”

“I handled it,” I bite back, the words escaping before I can stop them. “Lucius—he—”

“Lucius was testing you!” she snaps, cutting me off. “And you proved exactly what I feared—you lack control.”

“Lucius challenged a child to a duel and I held my own! Completely exhausted and with zero preparation. How is that an embarrassment?” I get a second wind with just enough energy to push myself to sit upright, staring daggers at her, unable to hold my tongue any longer. “It doesn’t matter what I do, you always find a way to be disappointed in me. Had I turned it down, you would have called me weak. But I handled it—very well, I might add—and what, now I’ve ruined our image?”

Her nostrils flare as she looks at me, clearly displeased. “You have no idea—”

“You have no right to chastise me about a lack of control when you never taught me how to have some!” I cut her off, pointing a finger at her accusingly. “I think you’re just afraid because you’ve realized I’m not some weak twelve year old trying to throw coins anymore. My magic is growing and I am too, and you can’t stand the fact that I’m becoming my own person outside of you.”

Her face darkens, her composure cracking for a fraction of a second before she regains it. “You think you’ve figured it all out, don’t you?” she says, her voice low and cutting. “You think just because you’ve managed a few impressive feats that you know what power means? Let me tell you something—power without discipline is a liability, and right now, that’s exactly what you are.”

I scoff, anger boiling just beneath my skin. “A liability? I’ve been nothing but loyal to this family, even when it meant losing myself in the process. And for what? To be treated like a pawn in your endless schemes?”

Her eyes narrow to slits. “You are not a pawn. You are an investment. Everything your father and I have done has been to ensure your survival, your position. But if you refuse to see reason, you’ll squander it all. And then what will you be? A child with too much magic and no idea how to wield it. That’s not strength—it’s foolishness.”

I clench my fists, trying to keep the trembling at bay. “Maybe I don’t want your version of strength,” I say through gritted teeth. “Maybe I’m tired of living up to your impossible standards, of being something I’m not just to make you proud. If you want a perfect, obedient daughter, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m done.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her jaw tightening. For a moment, the silence is deafening. Then she takes a deliberate step closer, her voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “You’re right. You are growing—into a stubborn, reckless girl who thinks she knows better than the people who have sacrificed everything for her. But mark my words, you’ll learn the hard way, just as I did. The world doesn’t care about your feelings, and it certainly won’t wait for you to figure out who you are. Either you fall in line, or you’ll fall—hard.”

The venom in her words stings, but I refuse to let her see it. I hold her gaze, my chin lifting defiantly. “Then let me fall,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “At least it will be on my own terms.”

Her expression flickers—just for a moment, a shadow of something I can’t quite place crossing her face. Then she straightens, her cold mask snapping back into place. “So be it,” she says sharply, turning on her heel. “But your training will continue tomorrow. If you can’t live up to your name, I’ll revoke it from you, and you can fall on your face in the real world without the things we’ve provided for you. Your actions do have consequences, whether you believe so or not.”

She storms out, the door slamming shut behind her. The room feels suffocating in her absence, the weight of her words pressing down on me like lead. My breaths come shallow and uneven as I slump back against the pillows, exhaustion finally taking hold.

Draco is back at my side in a fraction of a second, his expression wrought with worry.

“What is wrong with her?” he spits, shutting the door and sitting next to me on the edge of the bed. “Sees her daughter is too weak to hold her head up, and she saunters in here talking about politics and money? It’s so… distasteful. So wrong.”

I smile weakly, relieved someone is on my side. “I know.”

I pat the spot on the mattress next to me, tilting my head slightly as if to ask him to come closer. He locks the door with a charm before sliding over next to me, wordlessly pulling me onto his chest and wrapping his arms around me.

I don’t know whether to scream, cry, or laugh at the absurdity of it all. All I know is that I’m tired—of fighting, of proving myself, of carrying the weight of expectations that were never mine to bear.

So what now? If I can’t get ahold of my magic, they’ll disown me?

I can’t let that happen—not when I don’t know what they’re capable of. Keeping them close is far safer for the time being.

And yet, even as my body trembles and my mind races, one thought rises above the chaos: I am done being afraid of her. Of anyone.

Maybe they should be afraid of me.

The thought haunts me as I fall into a restless sleep, wrapped up in Draco’s arms.