The Pact

When I wake, the room is dark and still. The faint glow of moonlight filters through the curtains, casting pale streaks across the floor. My body feels like it’s been through a war—every muscle aches, my magic drained to its limits.

I blink groggily and notice something on the nightstand. A small vial sits there, its contents glowing faintly in the dim light. A folded piece of parchment lies next to it.

With trembling fingers, I reach for the note, unfolding it carefully.

For the soreness. Drink it all. Don’t argue.

There’s no signature, but I don’t need one to know who it’s from. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips despite myself.

I uncork the vial and drink it down in one go. The potion is surprisingly pleasant, its warmth spreading through my chest and limbs almost immediately. The ache in my muscles begins to ease, the tension in my head dissolving like fog under the sun. I let out a small sigh of relief, sinking back into the pillows.

But the relief only lasts a moment before my mind drifts to Draco. He must’ve slipped out to let me sleep, but the idea of being alone feels unbearable.

I push the covers back and stand, my legs shaky but functional thanks to the potion. I slip quietly out of my room, slowly walking next door. The house is silent, the kind of stillness that feels almost oppressive, but I press on.

I hesitate for a moment before knocking softly. The sound barely registers, but it’s enough.

The door opens almost instantly, as though he’d been waiting. Draco stands there, his hair messy, his expression surprised but soft. He’s wearing a loose shirt and sleep pants, his wand in his hand.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he says, his voice low but not unkind.

“I was,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “But… can I stay with you?”

His brows furrow slightly, but he steps aside without question, holding the door open for me.

I slip inside, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “I just didn’t want to be alone,” I admit, looking down at my hands.

He closes the door behind me, locking it with a quick flick of his wand. “You don’t have to explain,” he says softly. “Come on.”

I realize I’m still very much in my day clothes—I hadn’t gotten a chance to change into something comfortable considering the circumstances. Luckily, Draco seems to have already prepared for that.

“Here,” he says gently, handing me a pair of his nicest silk pajamas. “The bathroom is right there if you want to change. I can’t imagine that’s very comfortable to sleep in.”

I shake my head, looking down at myself. “No, not really. Thank you, Dray.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, giving me a small smile.

I walk over to the bathroom, closing the door but not bothering to lock it. It’s just another step and I’m too lazy.

I take off my clothes, feeling immediately relieved when I peel them all off my skin. The cool silk of the pajamas he gave me is a lovely contrast, and I grin when I realize he sprayed them down with his cologne. He always knows just what I need—and most of the time, that’s just to be closer to him.

I look in the mirror and tug at my hair, having a difficult time pulling the pins out from being so shaky. Frustration builds as I fumble with them, my hands too unsteady to make any progress. After a moment, I give up with a sigh, pushing the door open and stepping back into Draco’s room.

“Dray,” I say softly, my voice tinged with embarrassment. “I can’t—can you help me take my hair down?”

He looks up from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression softening immediately. “Of course.”

I walk over to him, turning my back and tilting my head forward slightly to give him better access as I sit. I feel his fingers brush against my scalp as he gently starts removing the pins one by one. His touch is careful, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

“How many of these do you have in here?” he murmurs with a small chuckle, setting the pins down on the nightstand as he works.

“Too many,” I reply with a faint smile. “My mother insists on it. She says it’s the only way to make sure everything stays perfect.”

He hums softly, his fingers continuing to work with practiced ease. “You don’t need all this to be perfect. You already are.”

My breath catches, but I don’t say anything, letting his words hang in the air.

Finally, the last pin is out, and I feel the tension in my scalp ease as my hair falls loose around my shoulders. I reach up to run my fingers through it, feeling each follicle on my scalp ache in the best way.

I take the pins back from him, standing up to walk back to the bathroom to finish up before he reaches out and grabs my arm, stopping me.

“Wait,” he says, standing and walking to the small dresser in the corner. He pulls out a clean cloth and a bottle of something I recognize as makeup remover.

I raise an eyebrow at him as he returns, sitting back down in front of me. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve been through enough tonight,” he says simply, dampening the cloth with the remover. “Let me help.”

I start to protest, but the look in his eyes silences me. I nod, sitting down across from him and tilting my face up slightly.

He works in silence, his movements gentle as he wipes away the layers of makeup. The cloth is cool against my skin, and I can feel the weight of the day melting away with each careful swipe.

“Why on earth do you have makeup remover?” I tease, my voice quiet.

He pushes back some of my hair, smirking. “Bought some after the first time you stayed over. Just in case.”

“That’s… really thoughtful, actually,” I say, unable to come up with a witty retort. “Thank you. For everything. You’re always very… patient. It means a lot.”

Draco’s smirk softens into something gentler, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw as he sets the cloth aside. “You deserve patience,” he says simply. “Even if you don’t always believe it yourself.”

I feel my cheeks warm at his words, but I don’t look away. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of saint. I’m really not.”

“I know you’re not,” he replies with a quiet chuckle, leaning back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on mine. “You’re stubborn, impulsive, and absolutely infuriating sometimes. But you’re also loyal, brave, and far stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. “Draco…” I start, unsure of how to respond, but he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts, his voice gentle. “Just… let me take care of you tonight. No arguments.”

I nod slowly, letting my shoulders relax as I lean into the quiet intimacy of the moment. “Okay,” I whisper.

Draco picks up the cloth again, dabbing away the last traces of makeup with a surprising tenderness. When he finishes, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment.

“All done,” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper.

I give him a small smile, brushing my fingers against his hand before pulling back. “Thanks, Dray. Really.”

He nods, standing and putting everything away for me. “Quit thanking me. You’d do the same for me. You have, actually.”

“That’s different,” I reply, sitting on my side of the bed watching him clean up. “You deserve that. Being taken care of.”

He pauses, furrowing his brow. He leans his back against the dresser and crosses his arms over his chest, seeming genuinely confused. “If anyone deserves this it’s you. You’re always helping other people—you need care, too.”

I blink at him, his words sinking in deeper than I expected. “I… I guess I’m just not used to it,” I admit softly, tugging at the sleeve of his borrowed pajamas. “People usually assume I don’t need help. That I can handle everything on my own.”

Draco lets out a quiet scoff, pushing off the dresser and walking toward me. “That’s ridiculous,” he says, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’re strong, yes, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need someone to lean on every once in a while. Everyone does.”

I glance up at him as he sits on the edge of the bed, his gaze steady but uncharacteristically warm. “Even you?” I ask, a faint smile tugging at my lips, though my tone is half-teasing.

“Especially me,” he replies without missing a beat, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small smirk. “Merlin knows I’m a mess most of the time. But you… you make it easier.”

His honesty takes me by surprise, and for a moment, I’m not sure what to say. “You make it easier for me too,” I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize how much until recently.”

Draco reaches out, his hand brushing mine again before he intertwines our fingers. “Then let it happen, just this once,” he says softly. “No protests. No excuses. Just… let me be here for you.”

I stare at our joined hands, his thumb tracing gentle circles against my skin. “Okay,” I say finally, the word feeling like both a surrender and a relief.

“Good,” he murmurs, a rare tenderness in his tone.

He lays down next to me, and I can’t help but to lay my face in the crook of his neck, wrapping an arm around his head to play with his hair. It’s so soft and the motion soothes me, just like it did when he had that night terror.

Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I haven’t heard him through the night since I’ve been here.

His hand idly traces my shoulder, his touch light and gentle. I feel like I can relax, inhaling deeply as his scent surrounds me.

“Dray?” I ask tentatively, my breath warm against his neck.

“Hm?” he hums, pulling me closer.

I thread my fingers through his hair once more, feeling him sink into my touch. “Have you—uh, I mean… I haven’t heard you wake up through the night since I’ve been here.”

There’s a pause, and my unspoken question lingers in the air for a moment before he sighs dejectedly. “Of course you haven’t heard.”

I pull away from him enough to look at him, turning his face towards me gently. “What do you mean?”

He tries to avoid my eyes but I keep my hand firmly on his cheek, my touch steady but gentle.

“I have silencing charms up now.”

I blink, taken aback. “Why would you…?”

“Because,” he starts, looking guilty, “I didn’t want to bother you. I knew you’d come running in to save me every night and you need your rest.”

My chest tightens at his words. “Draco… you don’t have to hide these things from me. I come running to you every time because I want to help. I want to make it better.”

“You do make it better,” he replies, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. “I just… I feel terrible that you have to.”

I furrow my brows, confusion tugging at me. “What do you mean?”

Draco hesitates, his hand still playing with my hair, as though the motion might distract him from what he’s about to say. His voice is quieter when he finally answers. “I don’t… have them when you’re here.”

The words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, I’m not sure I heard him correctly. “You don’t…?”

He shakes his head, his gaze flickering to mine and then away again. “No night terrors. No waking up in a cold sweat. Nothing.” His tone is almost bitter as he adds, “It’s like my mind can finally rest when you’re here. I don’t know why.”

I stare at him, the weight of his confession settling over me like a blanket. “Dray,” I whisper, my heart aching for him. “That’s… that’s a good thing.”

He scoffs lightly, though there’s no real heat behind it. “Is it? I’ve spent years trying to deal with this on my own, and now you show up and—” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” I say firmly, leaning closer. My hands cup his face, forcing him to look at me. “It just means you feel safe with me. That’s not pathetic—it’s human.”

He exhales sharply, his eyes searching mine for something I can’t quite name. “I don’t like needing people,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper. “Needing someone means they can leave. They can take it all away.”

My chest aches at the vulnerability in his words, the raw fear he’s been carrying all this time. “I’m not going anywhere,” I say softly, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “And you don’t have to carry this by yourself anymore. I’m here, Draco. For as long as you’ll let me be.”

He swallows hard, his hands finding their way to my waist as though grounding himself. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” he murmurs, but there’s a crack in his voice, a crack in his walls.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll believe you,” he says, almost pleading. “And I don’t know if I can survive it if you change your mind.”

I press my lips to his forehead, my voice steady and sure. “Then believe me. Because I mean it.”

He stares at me silently for a few moments, almost like he’s taking this in. Memorizing me.

I hold both sides of his face, placing feather light kisses all over until he reluctantly smiles, blushing as I giggle to myself.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, halfheartedly pushing me off. “You’re such a puff.”

I grin, leaning back just enough to meet his eyes, squeezing his cheeks. “And you love it,” I tease, the playfulness in my voice contrasting with the warmth in my chest.

Draco rolls his eyes, though the blush on his face deepens. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” I say with a shrug, my smile widening. “But you’re still holding me, so what does that say about you?”

He groans dramatically, but his arms don’t loosen their grip. “It says I’ve clearly lost my mind.”

“Or,” I counter, resting my head against his shoulder, “it says you actually like me.”

His silence stretches just long enough for me to glance up at him, curious. He’s staring down at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a softness in his eyes that takes my breath away.

“Maybe I do,” he says finally, his voice low, almost hesitant. “But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

I laugh, the sound light and free, and the tension between us melts away. “Your secret’s safe with me, Malfoy.”

“Good,” he mutters, though the corners of his mouth twitch upward. “Now stop giggling like a lunatic and get some sleep.”

I settle back against him, the warmth of his body lulling me into a sense of peace I haven’t felt in days. “Only if you do, too.”

“Deal,” he murmurs, his voice already thick with sleep.

And as his breathing evens out, I close my eyes, knowing that for tonight, at least, we’re both safe in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

~

“Well, you two look rather cozy,” a soft voice chimes, waking me up.

When I open my eyes, I see Narcissa standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and an amused look on her face.

My eyes widen as I quickly sit up, nearly knocking into Draco, who stirs beside me with a groggy groan. “Mrs. Malfoy! I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Narcissa raises an elegant hand, silencing my stammering. “Relax, dear. I’m not upset.” Her lips curve into a small smile, though her piercing gaze flickers briefly to Draco, who’s now rubbing his eyes and muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

“I—um…” I glance nervously at Draco, but he doesn’t seem nearly as alarmed as I am. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh?” Narcissa tilts her head, her smile deepening just enough to make my cheeks burn. “And what does it look like?”

“I… well…” My words fail me, and Draco finally speaks up, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Mother, please.” He sighs, sitting up and raking a hand through his messy hair. “It’s too early for your dramatics.”

Narcissa chuckles softly, her tone more amused than admonishing. “I wasn’t being dramatic, darling. I was merely observing.” She looks at me again, her expression gentler now. “It’s nice to see him sleep so soundly for once. I daresay, you’ve done him a great deal of good.”

My heart skips a beat at her words, and I glance at Draco, who suddenly seems very interested in the hem of his sleeve. “I didn’t… I mean, it wasn’t intentional,” I mumble, feeling a little flustered.

Narcissa steps closer, her gaze warm but knowing. “Intentional or not, I can see the difference. You may not realize it, but Draco doesn’t rest like this. Not unless he feels at ease.”

Draco groans quietly, muttering, “Mother, please stop.”

She ignores him, her focus still on me. “So, thank you,” she says softly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity that surprises me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him so… peaceful.”

I nod, unable to find the right words to respond. Narcissa gives me a small, almost conspiratorial smile before turning toward the door. “Now, I’ll leave you two to… compose yourselves. Breakfast will be served shortly.”

With that, she glides out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. I look at Draco, my face still burning. “Well, that wasn’t mortifying at all.”

He smirks faintly, finally meeting my eyes. “Merlin… she’s worse when she actually likes someone.”

I blink. “Wait… worse?”

Draco shrugs, a teasing glint in his eye. “This is somehow worse than her yelling,” he says, yawning. “Now I have to live with the fact that she knows more than I want her to.”

“When is the last time she yelled at you over a girl?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He freezes, suddenly realizing what he said. “I—well,” he stammers, turning away from me. “I may or may not have had a party here once, and Parkinson found her way to my bed.”

Draco stands up, making his way to his drawers to pick something to wear.

“I see,” I say flatly, suddenly realizing why she was so interested in me at the party.

“Don’t do that,” he replies, leaning against the wall as he turns to look at me.

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms over my chest. “Don’t do what?”

“That,” he says, gesturing vaguely at me. “The fake voice, the blank expression—it’s unnerving.”

“Oh, this?” I say, keeping my tone icy, though I can feel my irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “I’m just processing the fact that you let Pansy Parkinson of all people sneak into your bed.”

“I didn’t let her!” Draco snaps, his cheeks flushing. “She just… showed up. It wasn’t like that.”

I arch an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Right. Because that makes it so much better.”

He groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s not what you’re thinking. Nothing happened. I didn’t even realize it until mum—” He cuts himself off, his blush deepening. “Look, the point is, it wasn’t some… romantic thing.”

“Uh-huh,” I reply, turning away from him and feigning indifference. “So, just to clarify, I’m not the first girl your mother’s had opinions about.”

“Of course you’re not,” he retorts, exasperated. “But you’re… different.”

That makes me pause. I glance over my shoulder at him, curiosity sparking in my chest despite my annoyance. “Different how?”

Draco hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. For once, he looks uncertain, as if weighing his words carefully. “Because she doesn’t see you as a distraction,” he says finally, his voice quieter. “She sees you as someone who… actually makes me better.”

His words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I’m not sure how to respond. “She said that?”

He shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “Not in so many words, but I know how she thinks.” He looks at me then, his expression softening. “And she’s right.”

The tension in my chest eases, replaced by something warmer, something I’m not quite ready to name. I pull myself out of bed and take a step towards him, tilting my head. “You know, for someone who claims to hate feelings, you’re surprisingly good at saying things like that.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, though there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Too late,” I tease, poking his shoulder. “You’ve already set the bar.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t pull away, his smirk softening into a small, genuine smile. “Merlin help me, I’m doomed.”

“Oh, believe me, you’re definitely doomed the next time I hear one of your other little fan girls is sneaking into your bed.”

Draco groans, though the smile doesn’t leave his lips. “You can’t seriously be jealous over something that happened before I even knew you,” he teases.

“I’m not jealous,” I bite back, though he definitely sees right through it.

“Sure you’re not,” Draco says, his smirk growing as he crosses his arms and leans casually against the wall. “Because the glare you gave me just now? Completely screamed indifference.”

I narrow my eyes at him, but the heat rising to my cheeks betrays me. “I’m just saying, it’s… gross. You could have better taste.”

He raises an eyebrow, his tone smug. “Oh? And who, exactly, would meet your standards?”

I huff, rolling my eyes. “Someone who isn’t Pansy Parkinson, for starters.”

He chuckles softly, stepping closer. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

There’s a pause, the teasing air between us shifting as the silence grows heavier. He’s close now, closer than he’s been all morning, his gaze locked onto mine in a way that makes my pulse quicken.

“Speaking of our fan clubs,” he says suddenly, his grey eyes boring into mine, “I overheard you talking to your French bulldog the other day.”

My face immediately flushes as I recall the conversation. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says lowly, tilting his head.

“What exactly did you hear?” I ask, trying but failing to sound nonchalant.

His eyes flick down to my lips for a fraction of a second before he looks back up. “You… speak very highly of me. Even when I’m not in the room.”

My heart pounds at how close he’s gotten. “I—well, obviously.”

“Obviously?” he echoes, reaching out to take my hand.

I glance down at our joined hands, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a way that sends a shiver up my spine. “Yeah, obviously,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not as terrible as you like to pretend, you know.”

Draco smirks, but it’s softer now, almost hesitant. “Not terrible? High praise coming from you.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “You’re infuriating, but… you’ve been there for me. More than anyone else has.”

His smirk fades, replaced by something unreadable as he steps even closer, his voice dropping. “And you’ve been there for me, too. I don’t think I realized how much I needed that until now.”

I swallow hard, my breath catching at the intensity in his gaze. “Draco…”

“Don’t,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t say my name like that unless you mean it.”

“Mean what?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“That you want this,” he says, his hand tightening around mine. “That you want… me. Because I’m trying—I’m really trying—not to ruin this by pushing you too far.”

My chest tightens, the weight of his words settling over me. “You’re not ruining anything,” I say softly, my free hand moving to rest against his chest. “And I do want this. I want you.”

The tension in his shoulders eases, and he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for weeks. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to hear you say that.”

“Well, now you know,” I whisper, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Draco leans in, his forehead resting against mine. “So, where does this leave us?”

I look up at him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Wherever we want it to,” I say honestly. “No labels, no pressure. Just… us.”

A rare, genuine smile spreads across his face, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. “Just us,” he repeats, his voice steady.

And then, before I can overthink it, he tilts his head and presses his lips to mine, the kiss soft but filled with a quiet intensity that makes my head spin. When we finally pull apart, he rests his hand on my jaw, his smirk returning.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he murmurs.

“Good,” I tease, grinning. “It’s only fair, after all.”

I know the look I’m giving him; and I can see it’s having an effect on him. I just can’t help but to look at him like he’s my whole world—I can feel the sparkle in my eyes as I study his.

My grin only widens as his face softens, because I know whatever happens, I have him.

“We really should get down to breakfast, though,” he quips, pulling my hand up to his lips and leaving a gentle kiss on my knuckles before he drops it. “Before our other parents figure out what’s going on.”

I chuckle, collecting my clothes from yesterday from his bathroom. “Let’s just hope your mum doesn’t say anything.”

“She won’t,” he replies, zero hesitation in his voice. “She picks her battles with my father.”

I hum in response, making my way to the door. “Thank Merlin for that.”