The Pact

The tension at breakfast is as thick as ever, but I’m too tired to care. Four days straight of grueling training has left my muscles sore, my head pounding, and my patience worn dangerously thin. I pick at my plate, the aroma of food doing little to coax my appetite back.

My parents, however, seem as poised and untouched as ever. My mother sips her tea delicately, her gaze flickering over me like she’s sizing up an investment, while my father casually reads the morning paper, his expression unreadable. At the head of the table, Lucius eats in silence, his usual cold detachment intact.

It’s almost a relief when my mother finally breaks the quiet. Almost.

“Today’s training will be different,” she says crisply, setting her teacup down with a soft clink.

I glance up warily, my fork pausing mid-air. “Different how?”

My father folds his paper, meeting my gaze with an expectant look. “Your mother and I have arranged for Narcissa to teach you Occlumency. It’s time you learn to guard your mind.”

“Occlumency?” I question, blinking in surprise. “Why now?”

My mother’s lips press into a thin line. “Because you’re a liability otherwise. If anyone—he—gets inside your head, all of this will have been for nothing.”

I stiffen at the implication, my appetite disappearing completely.

Before I can respond, Narcissa speaks up from the other end of the table, her voice soft but firm. “You’ll find it’s a skill that serves you in more ways than one. It requires discipline, control, and an unshakable focus—qualities you should already be cultivating.”

Draco, seated beside her, raises a brow, his interest clearly piqued. “You’re teaching her Occlumency?”

“Yes, Draco,” she replies, giving him a pointed look. “You’ll join us as well. It might help reinforce what you’ve already learned.”

Draco looks mildly surprised but doesn’t object. Instead, his gaze flickers to me, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “This should be interesting.”

I roll my eyes, leaning back in my chair. “Because clearly I need an audience while learning to close my mind.”

“You’ll find it’s more challenging than you think,” Narcissa says, ignoring my sarcasm. “And Draco is no audience. He’s already learned the basics from me, so his presence will serve as… additional motivation.”

I glance at him, narrowing my eyes. “Motivation, huh?”

Draco shrugs, looking far too pleased with himself. “Think of it as a chance to keep up.”

I let out a huff, glancing between my parents and Narcissa. “Fine,” I say finally, my voice clipped. “When do we start?”

Narcissa stands gracefully, smoothing her robes. “Right now. You’ll need every moment you can get.”

Draco rises as well, clearly eager to see how this plays out. As we leave the table, I can’t help but feel a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. Four days of physical and magical strain, and now this?

But as much as I hate to admit it, there’s a small part of me that’s curious—about Narcissa’s methods, about what I’m capable of, and about how Draco might fit into all of this.

Because if nothing else, Occlumency will give me an edge. And right now, I need all the edges I can get.

The three of us walk into Narcissa’s study, and I’m greeted with the comforting sight of the photos she has carefully placed around the room—including the new picture of me. 

“Have a seat,” she says gently, gesturing to an armchair across from her desk. 

I look at Draco hesitantly before lowering myself into it, crossing my legs. 

Draco, who I suppose decided being across the room was unacceptable, drags another chair next to mine and plops down with a smirk on his face. 

“Don’t look so smug,” I tell him, rolling my eyes at his clear arrogance. “We haven’t even started yet.”

He chuckles, shooting me a wink while Narcissa rearranges some things on her desk. “It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. I’m a natural at this. Maybe I’ll even tutor you.”

“As if,” I reply sharply, though I can’t help but feel a smile tug at my lips. 

Narcissa clears her throat, pulling both of our attention to her. She’s now seated behind her desk, her hands neatly folded on the surface as her cool, observant gaze settles on me.

“Draco,” she says, her tone holding a hint of reprimand, “this is her lesson, not your opportunity to gloat.”

Draco raises his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk doesn’t falter. “Just trying to lighten the mood, Mother.”

“I assure you,” she replies, arching a brow, “this is not a lesson that requires lightening. Occlumency demands focus and discipline. Any distractions will only hinder her progress.”

I glance sideways at Draco, expecting him to fire back, but he merely leans back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh, folding his arms across his chest.

“Now,” Narcissa continues, her voice softening as she turns to me. “Occlumency is as much about knowing yourself as it is about blocking others. The key to success is clarity of mind—control over your emotions, your memories, and your intentions. Without that, your defenses will crumble under even the smallest amount of pressure.”

I nod slowly, absorbing her words.

“You’ll need to approach this with patience,” she adds, her eyes narrowing slightly. “The mind is not easily tamed, but it can be trained. We’ll begin with something simple: a focus exercise.”

She gestures toward the photo frames on the shelf behind her. “Look at the pictures. Choose one to focus on. Let it fill your thoughts entirely.”

I turn my gaze to the shelf, my eyes immediately drawn to the photo of me that Narcissa added recently. It’s a candid shot, and though I look slightly awkward, there’s something oddly comforting about seeing myself included among their family memories.

“That one,” I say, nodding toward it.

Narcissa follows my gaze, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “A good choice. Keep it in your mind, clear and vivid.”

I close my eyes, picturing the image as vividly as I can—the way the light catches my hair, the faint curve of my lips, the softness of the background.

“Good,” Narcissa murmurs. “Now hold onto it. Imagine someone trying to take it from you, prying into your mind to steal it away. Your job is to protect it. Fortify your thoughts, lock the image behind a wall they can’t breach.”

I furrow my brow, trying to picture a wall—something solid and impenetrable.

Draco’s voice cuts through the silence, low and teasing. “Your wall better not be yellow and fluffy.”

My eyes snap open, and I glare at him. “Do you mind?”

He shrugs, clearly unrepentant. “Just saying. It needs to be strong.”

Narcissa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Draco, if you’re so intent on commenting, perhaps you’d like to assist her by attempting to break through?”

Draco straightens in his chair, clearly intrigued. “Gladly.”

I narrow my eyes at him, unsure whether to feel irritated or intimidated. Narcissa gestures for me to close my eyes again, and I do, trying to rebuild the wall I was forming.

“Go ahead, Draco,” she says calmly.

Almost immediately, I feel it—a strange, invasive sensation, like a hand reaching into my mind. My thoughts waver, the image of the photo flickering as I struggle to keep my focus.

“Not bad,” Draco mutters, his voice echoing faintly in my head. “But you’re going to have to do better than that.”

I grit my teeth, pushing back against his presence. My wall strengthens, becoming a fortress in my mind. I imagine stone and steel, thick and unyielding, blocking him at every turn.

Suddenly, the pressure recedes, and I open my eyes to see Draco leaning back in his chair, looking both impressed and annoyed.

“Not bad,” he says, mimicking his earlier words.

Narcissa smiles faintly, nodding at me. “Better than I expected for a first attempt.”

I exhale, my shoulders relaxing slightly.

Draco smirks. “Alright, I’ll admit—you’ve got potential.”

“Gee, thanks,” I reply dryly, though I can’t help but feel a small swell of pride.

Narcissa straightens in her seat, her expression serious once more. “We’ll continue to build on this, but for now, you’ve made a strong start. Remember: control is your greatest weapon.”

I nod, the weight of her words sinking in. I may not have mastered Occlumency yet, but for the first time, I feel like it’s something I can actually achieve.

My patience is already thin from the days of training, but I harden my resolve. Narcissa and Draco are two of the handful of people in my life whose opinions I genuinely care about. I’d hate to disappoint either of them, and I use that to fuel my focus.

Narcissa pulls out her wand, angling it at me. “Now, I want you to do the same thing, with a different picture. Don’t let me in. Understand?”

I look over the mantle and settle on a picture of young Draco, holding a toy broom. I let his infectious joy fill my veins as I look back at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Narcissa nods approvingly, her sharp eyes locking onto mine. “Good. Now focus. Don’t think about anything else. Keep the image in your mind, clear and unwavering.”

I close my eyes and center my thoughts on the photo of young Draco. His carefree laugh echoes in my mind, the way his small hands grip the toy broom with determination. The innocence in his expression is pure and unguarded, a stark contrast to the man sitting beside me now.

The moment I feel Narcissa’s presence pressing into my mind, I immediately try to fortify my defenses. I construct my wall again, imagining layers of steel reinforced with stone, towering high and indestructible.

At first, it seems to work. I feel her testing the edges, probing for weaknesses, but I keep my focus steady.

“Decent,” Narcissa murmurs, her voice distant but clear. “But you’re hesitating. Don’t just defend—anchor yourself in the image. Let it become part of your defenses.”

I grit my teeth, digging deeper into the picture. I focus on the warmth of the sunlight in the photo, the playful glint in young Draco’s eyes. But then, there’s a sudden shift—a sharp, calculated push against my mental defenses that I wasn’t expecting.

For a split second, my concentration falters.

The image wavers, and I feel her break through, slipping past my wall and catching a flicker of my scattered thoughts—memories of Draco at the Slytherin party, his rare smile, the way he wiped flour off my face in the kitchen, the night terrors he shared with me at Malfoy Manor.

It’s only for a heartbeat, but it’s enough to make me panic.

“No,” I whisper fiercely, shoving back with all the strength I can muster. I rebuild the wall, this time with a surge of determination that surprises even me.

The pressure recedes abruptly, and I open my eyes to find Narcissa studying me with a raised brow, her wand lowered.

“You faltered,” she says calmly, but not unkindly. “But you recovered. That’s progress.”

I glance at Draco, expecting a smug remark, but his expression is unreadable, his jaw tight. Did he sense what she saw?

I groan, leaning back against the chair. “I can’t do this,” I mutter, embarrassed.

“Yes, you can,” Draco and his mother say at the same time. They look at each other for a moment, surprised at how in sync they are, before Draco reaches out to pat my hand.

“Don’t give up yet,” he says softly, his gaze earnest. “Mother is much better at prying than I am. It’s more challenging.”

Narcissa gives me a pointed look. “Failure is part of learning. You showed resilience—that’s more important.” She leans back slightly, her tone softening. “But you must learn to anticipate. Occlumency isn’t just about defense; it’s about strategy. You must be quicker, sharper. Stronger.”

I nod, swallowing hard, my pride bruised but intact.

Draco speaks, his voice unusually serious. “She’s right. You were better this time, but if someone really wanted in, they wouldn’t hesitate. They’d exploit every crack.”

“I’ll get there,” I say quietly, more to myself than to them.

Narcissa’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. “You will. And when you do, no one will be able to touch your mind.”

I exhale, letting her words settle over me like a challenge. I’ll prove to myself—and to them—that I can.

“Alright, let’s try again,” I say firmly, letting my hand rest on the tap bracelet Draco gave me. The cool metal helps to anchor me in place, bringing my focus to one solid line of thought.

Narcissa nods, casting the spell once more.

As Narcissa raises her wand again, her gaze sharp and expectant, I grip the bracelet on my wrist like a lifeline. The smooth, cool surface grounds me, the faint memory of Draco’s smirk as he handed it to me flickering in the back of my mind.

This time, I don’t hesitate. I close my eyes and draw up the picture of young Draco again, his carefree grin as he zoomed around on the toy broomstick. But I don’t just see it—I feel it. The joy, the warmth, the safety of a simpler moment. I let it consume me entirely, letting everything else fade into the background.

When Narcissa’s spell presses against my mind, it feels stronger, sharper than before, but I’m ready.

I picture the image of Draco as more than a memory—it becomes a fortress. His laughter echoes like a protective charm, and the warmth of that day wraps around me like an impenetrable shield.

Her presence feels for a crack, a weak point to exploit, but I don’t waver. I push back, meeting her probing force with my own willpower.

For a moment, the pressure intensifies, and I feel the faintest flicker of doubt—what if I can’t hold her off?

But then my fingers tighten on the bracelet, and a new wave of resolve floods through me. You’re stronger than this. You’re fighting for something that matters.

The connection snaps.

I open my eyes to find Narcissa lowering her wand, her expression calm but approving. “Better,” she says simply, though her tone carries a weight of recognition.

Draco leans forward in his chair, his gray eyes locked on mine. “You didn’t just block her, did you?”

I shake my head, my breathing still uneven. “No. I pushed her out.”

A small, rare smile tugs at Narcissa’s lips. “Good. That’s exactly what you should do. Defense is important, but sometimes the best defense is to take control of the battle.”

I nod, relief and pride warring within me.

Draco leans back with a smirk. “Not bad. Maybe you don’t need my tutoring after all.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the faint smile that sneaks onto my face. “Maybe not, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Narcissa glances between the two of us, something unreadable flickering in her expression before she straightens. “One more time,” she instructs. “This time, don’t just focus on blocking or pushing me out. Use whatever you’re anchoring yourself to as your shield and your weapon. Show me what you’re really capable of.”

I square my shoulders, nodding. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

“Only now,” she says firmly, “I’m not aiming for a picture. I’m aiming for you. Your thoughts, your emotions, your memories. Don’t let me get to them.”

I swallow, taking a breath to steady myself. I don’t know how much she could see, but sheer fear of her finding out about what we’ve been doing behind the scenes—research on my family, Dumbledore, and the bond—makes my determination stronger than ever.

Narcissa raises her wand again, her eyes sharp and calculating. “Legilimens,” she intones firmly, and I feel the familiar, invasive force pressing into my mind.

This time, it’s not a picture she’s probing for—it’s me. My innermost thoughts, my deepest fears, my carefully guarded secrets.

The fear of her uncovering everything—the subtle rebellion we’ve been planning—hits me like a jolt of electricity. But instead of letting it paralyze me, I use it.

I grip the tap bracelet on my wrist, focusing on the weight of it, the coolness against my skin. The memory of Draco and I using them in the same room together flashes through my mind. Him quirking his eyebrow and brushing his fingers over it subtly, me nodding and tapping in reply.

I build my fortress quickly this time, drawing on everything I’ve learned in the past few days. How to keep my emotions at bay, how to focus, how to be the most efficient version of me. The picture of young Draco is no longer just an image—it’s a cornerstone. Around it, I layer other memories: the warmth of his hand brushing mine during Potions, the sound of his laugh at the Slytherin party, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

Each memory becomes a stone, each emotion a layer of mortar. I weave them together, creating a barrier so strong and so personal that it’s unshakable.

Narcissa pushes harder, her presence probing and relentless. I feel her try to pull at threads of doubt, uncertainty—but I don’t let her find any.

Instead, I push back. I channel the bond, the unspoken connection between Draco and me, letting it anchor me. It’s more than just a feeling now—it’s a force, raw and unyielding.

The pressure in my mind builds to an almost unbearable peak, but I don’t break. I won’t let her see.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the connection snaps.

I blink, disoriented but steady, as Narcissa lowers her wand. Her expression is inscrutable, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—approval, perhaps, or maybe even surprise.

“Well done,” she says finally, her voice even. “You’ve learned quickly.”

Draco leans forward, his gaze fixed on me. “She didn’t get through, did she?”

I shake my head, still catching my breath. “No. She didn’t.”

Narcissa steps back, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re stronger than I expected. That resolve will serve you well—if you continue to nurture it.”

I nod, my grip still tight on the bracelet. “I will.”

Draco smirks, clearly pleased, and leans back in his chair. “Told you she’d be a natural.”

Narcissa glances between us, her expression softening just slightly. “You’ve got potential,” she says, her tone almost motherly. “Don’t waste it.”

I meet her gaze, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I won’t.”

Narcissa moves to stand in front of her desk, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assesses me. “You’ve learned how to shield yourself. Now, I want you to do something different. I want you to project a thought or memory. Something specific. Purposefully let me find it.”

I frown, unsure. “You want me to invite you in?”

She nods, her tone gentle but firm. “Yes. It’s another part of Occlumency—learning to control what others see, even when you allow them access. This skill will serve you well when facing more skilled Legilimens who won’t stop at barriers. Choose carefully what you share, and make it clear.”

I glance at Draco, who’s watching me intently, his head tilted in curiosity. The memory I choose will say something about me—and about us.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “Alright,” I say softly, my fingers brushing the bracelet on my wrist again.

Narcissa raises her wand, readying herself. “Project it clearly, or I won’t see it.”

I close my eyes, letting myself drift to a memory that’s both personal and safe, one that shows vulnerability but also connection.

It was late one night in the library. Draco had been unusually quiet as we worked on Potions homework together. I had glanced up from my parchment to find him staring at the pages of his book, his expression distant and pained.

“What’s wrong?” I had asked softly, setting my quill down.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he sighed, closing the book with a quiet thud. “Do you ever feel like… no matter what you do, it’s never enough? That no matter how hard you try, people only see what they want to see?”

The vulnerability in his voice had startled me. This wasn’t the sharp-tongued, arrogant Draco Malfoy everyone else saw. This was someone tired and aching to be understood.

“Yeah,” I had replied honestly, leaning forward. “I do.”

He’d looked at me then, really looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “It’s exhausting,” he had murmured, his voice barely audible.

“I know,” I had whispered, reaching out to place a hand over his. It was a small gesture, but it had felt monumental. He hadn’t pulled away.

I focus on the memory, letting the warmth of that moment—the quiet understanding, the unspoken bond—fill me. I project it outward, imagining Narcissa seeing it as clearly as I do.

“Legilimens,” she says, her voice steady.

I feel her presence again, but this time, it’s not invasive. It’s like a gentle nudge, coaxing the memory to the surface. I guide it to her, showing her what I want her to see.

After a moment, the connection breaks, and I open my eyes. Narcissa lowers her wand, her expression unreadable, though there’s a faint softness in her gaze.

“That was… well done,” she says quietly, almost as if the memory had caught her off guard.

Draco, clearly curious, raises an eyebrow. “What did you show her?”

I glance at him, a small, private smile tugging at my lips. “Just a memory,” I say simply.

He narrows his eyes at me, but there’s a hint of amusement in his expression. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Not a chance,” I reply, my tone light.

Narcissa clears her throat, drawing our attention back to her. “That was a good choice,” she says, her voice steady. “Memories like that—ones that are personal but harmless—can be powerful tools in the right hands. You’re learning control, which is exactly what you need.”

I nod, my chest swelling with a quiet sense of accomplishment.

“Now that you know the basics, I want you two to practice—specifically, Draco, I want you to pry into her. You can alternate but she needs to be the focus.”

Draco nods, twirling his wand in his fingers. “Understood.”

Narcissa gives me a soft smile, walking towards me to squeeze my shoulder. “You’re doing very well considering this is your first time. You may have a natural talent for it. Use it. Nurture it. Learning to quiet your mind can help you with more than just occlumency—it’ll help you with your magic.”

I glance up at Narcissa as her hand lingers on my shoulder, her words sinking in. There’s something reassuring in her tone, even if her advice is laced with expectation. “Thank you,” I say softly, my voice steady despite the weight of her encouragement.

Draco smirks beside me, clearly amused by her praise. “Looks like you’ve got high standards to live up to now,” he teases, leaning back in his chair.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” I snap, though there’s no real venom in my words.

“Alright,” Narcissa interjects, her tone sharp enough to bring us both to attention. “Draco, let’s begin. Remember, focus on prying into her mind, not just breaking through. The goal is finesse, not brute strength.”

He nods, straightening his posture and twirling his wand one last time before pointing it toward me. “Ready?”

I take a breath, centering myself. I let my fingers brush over the cool metal of the bracelet on my wrist again, grounding myself. “Go ahead.”

“Legilimens,” Draco says, his voice calm but deliberate.

I feel his presence immediately, less forceful than Narcissa’s but more persistent, like a tendril slowly weaving its way into my thoughts. I slam my mental walls into place, focusing on the feeling of the bracelet on my wrist.

For a moment, it works. I feel him circling the memory, testing its edges but unable to break through.

“Not bad,” he mutters, his voice distant as he maintains the connection. Then, with a sudden push, I feel him shift, trying to pry past the surface.

I grit my teeth, pouring every ounce of focus into keeping him out. “Stay out,” I hiss under my breath.

Draco chuckles softly, though I can tell he’s struggling too. “You’re not making this easy.”

“Good,” Narcissa says from behind him, her voice calm but firm. “Push harder, Draco, but keep it controlled. No damage—just precision.”

He adjusts his approach, and I feel his presence probing more carefully now, testing weak spots in my mental defenses. It takes everything I have to keep him out, but I can tell he’s not giving it his all—not yet.

“Focus, both of you,” Narcissa instructs, circling us like a hawk. “Draco, your mother can’t hold your hand forever, and you—” she looks at me pointedly, “—need to be prepared for people who won’t stop at polite probing.”

Her words fuel my determination, and I push back against Draco’s presence, imagining a solid wall around my thoughts. He flinches slightly, his connection faltering for a moment.

“Not bad,” he says, breaking the spell and leaning back with a smirk. “But don’t get too comfortable—I’m just getting started.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Bring it on.”

Narcissa steps forward, placing a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Good start. But next time, Draco, dig deeper. And you—” she looks at me, her gaze steady, “—keep using your emotions to fuel your defenses. But don’t let them overwhelm you. Learn to channel them into strength, not chaos.”

I nod, determined. “I’ll do better.”

“I’m sure you will,” Narcissa says, her tone softening slightly. “You’ve already come farther than I expected for your first lesson.”

Draco snorts. “Guess she’s just full of surprises.”

“Careful, Malfoy,” I reply with a smirk. “I might surprise you next.”

He leans closer, his grey eyes gleaming with challenge. “I’m counting on it.”

He cracks his knuckles, pulling his wand to the ready once more. “Legilimens,” he whispers, his voice steady as he probes.

I decide to try the other technique—forcing him to see one specific memory. I let it fill my senses, feeling like I’m experiencing it all over again.

Making it clear.

I was eavesdropping on Draco’s heated conversation with Aurélien after he first arrived at the school—and Aurélien had just noticed my ring on his finger.

“Is that… her ring?”

Draco bristles but causally tucks his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the wall. “And what if it is?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Aurélien shoots back, voice rising. “Do you think wearing that makes you close to her? That it gives you some kind of claim over her?”

“She gave it to me. If you have a problem with it, maybe ask her about it. You know, if she wanted you, Bordeau, she would’ve acted on it by now. She’s not exactly the subtle type about her emotions.”

I watch my best friend’s face turn from shock into something else, something defensive.

“At least I’m not afraid to admit how I feel about her. Can you say the same, Malfoy?”

Draco speaks again, his tone icy. “My feelings aren’t your concern. But let me tell you this: I’d rather her hate me than let her settle for someone who doesn’t understand her.”

“Understand her?” Aurélien snaps, getting closer to Draco. “No one could ever understand her as well as I do. I know everything about her. Every thought she thinks, every problem she’s ever faced, even the way every curve of her body looks. You could never compete, even if she did care about someone as pathetic as you for whatever reason.”

Draco steps closer to Aurélien, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the tension. “You know, it’s fascinating how some people can convince themselves that claiming something makes it true. But we both know that isn’t the case, don’t we? So maybe you should stop running your mouth about things that never happened.”

Aurélien jabs a finger into Draco’s chest, his voice shaking with anger. I feel a dull pain in my own chest and have to stop myself from wincing.

“Stay away from her. You’ll hurt her. That’s what people like you do.”

I see Draco’s eyes flash with hurt, but it’s so subtle even Aurélien doesn’t notice. He covers it up with a burning fury, bucking up to Aury.

“Over my dead body.”

I focus on the memory—the emotions I was feeling, the cold air of the corridor, and project it, pushing it to the forefront of my mind as Draco probes around. I guide him straight to it, letting it replay over and over again until it runs through my veins, filling every recess of my mind, leaving nothing but empty space and the sound of their voices.

After a moment, I feel a break in the connection, and Draco is looking at me with his eyes wide.

“You… you saw that?” he asks, leaving Narcissa to watch us both in confusion.

“Yes,” I reply quietly, meeting his gaze without wavering. “I saw everything.”

Draco’s expression hardens, the faint vulnerability in his eyes quickly masked by irritation. “You weren’t supposed to—” He stops himself, exhaling sharply as he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

Narcissa looks between us, her sharp gaze flickering with interest. “What exactly did you see?” she asks, her tone calm but commanding.

I hesitate, my mind racing for a way to explain without giving too much away. “A… conversation,” I say carefully, glancing at Draco.

“Nothing important,” Draco replies, waving her off.

She raises a perfectly arched brow, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she redirects her focus to me. “You projected the memory intentionally?”

“Yes,” I answer, my voice steadier now. “I wanted to see if I could guide him to something specific.”

“And you succeeded,” she says with a nod of approval. “You’re learning to manipulate your own thoughts, which will make it much harder for anyone to access the ones you don’t want them to see.”

“Great,” Draco mutters under his breath, his tone laced with sarcasm.

I give him an apologetic smile before Narcissa seems to decide she doesn’t want to deal with this teenage hormone-filled aftermath, making her way to the door.

“Take a break for now,” she instructs, smoothing her robes. “We’ll continue this later. I expect you both to practice in the meantime.”

As she leaves the room, the air feels heavier between Draco and me. He’s silent, staring at the floor, his expression unreadable.

“Draco,” I say hesitantly, breaking the quiet.

He finally looks at me, his grey eyes stormy. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

I want to say something reassuring, but I hesitate, unsure of what he needs to hear. “Maybe… maybe it’s better that I did,” I offer gently. “Overhearing that was… a wake up call, to say the least.”

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that, I just…” He sighs, leaning back. “I was being aggressive. And really rude to someone you cared about. I don’t like knowing that you saw that side of me.”

“It was a while ago,” I say soothingly, moving to sit on the arm of his chair. “Besides, he started it. I can’t be upset with you for defending yourself. For defending me.”

Draco glances up at me, his stormy eyes softening just slightly. “Still,” he mutters, “I should’ve handled it better. I let him get under my skin, and I said things I probably shouldn’t have.”

“Maybe,” I admit, offering a small smile. “But it’s not like you were wrong.”

His brow furrows, and he tilts his head slightly, studying me. “About what?”

“About him not understanding me,” I say softly, meeting his gaze. “Aurélien’s been my best friend for years, but… that doesn’t mean he gets everything about me. No one really does.” I pause, letting the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, “Not even you. Not yet, at least.”

Draco blinks, clearly surprised by my honesty. “Not yet?” he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

I nod, letting my hand rest on the back of his chair. “I think we’re getting there, though. Don’t you?”

His lips twitch, like he’s fighting back a smile, but he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks down at his hands, his fingers tracing patterns along the edge of his wand. Finally, he says, “I think so. But you’re not exactly easy to figure out, you know.”

“Good,” I tease, nudging his shoulder gently. “Where’s the fun in being predictable?”

Draco huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re dramatic,” I counter, grinning.

He finally looks back up at me, his smirk returning. “Maybe we’re even, then.”

“Maybe we are,” I agree, standing and offering him my hand. “Come on, Malfoy. Let’s get out of here before your mum ropes us into round two.”

He hesitates for only a moment before taking my hand and letting me pull him to his feet. “You’re not off the hook, you know,” he says as we head for the door.

I glance over my shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For being so annoyingly good at this,” he replies, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

I laugh, shaking my head. “Just admit it—you’re impressed.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, his smirk widening as he follows me into the hall. “But don’t let it go to your head, Lavigné.”

“No promises,” I shoot back, feeling a bit lighter despite the weight of the memory lingering in the back of my mind.

~

I sit in the library with my legs crisscrossed and my hands folded in my lap, facing Draco. We’ve been practicing for a good while now and I’m starting to get worn out, but I have to keep pushing.

“Do you want to take a break?” he asks quietly, tilting his head. “We can if you need one.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. I need to get this down.”

He half smirks, clearly amused. “You’re so stubborn, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

He puts his wand down, leaning back. “Your turn to pry, then. You need a break from defense at least.”

I roll my eyes and pull my wand out, pointing it at him. “Fine, fine. Ready?”

A mischievous look flickers across his eyes as he says, “Always am.”

I hesitate for half a second before pointing my wand up and muttering, “Legilimens.”

The moment the spell connects, flashes of memories flood my mind—not mine, but Draco’s. It’s disorienting at first, like stepping into someone else’s skin.

The first memory is faint but unmistakable: me, sitting alone at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, biting my lip as I scribble something in a notebook. I can feel his gaze, the quiet observation of someone who’s trying not to be obvious.

The scene shifts, and I see myself laughing at something Ron said during Potions class. It’s fleeting, but the sound seems to linger, like an echo.

Another memory: mein the library, completely absorbed in a book, my hair falling in front of my face. Draco reaches out to tuck it behind my ear—no, he doesn’t. He pulls his hand back before I even notice.

The images come faster now. Me twirling in the Room of Requirement during one of my late-night ballet sessions, unaware that he’s watching from the shadows. Me standing up for him in Potions, taking the blame for a mistake that wasn’t mine. Me smiling at him after he said something dry and sarcastic, the moment freezing as if he’s replayed it a hundred times.

I break the connection, gasping as I pull myself back into my own body. “What—” My voice is shaky, my heart racing. “What was that?”

Draco doesn’t look away, though his smirk is gone. His expression is unreadable, a mix of tension and defiance. “You tell me. You’re the one who pried.”

I shake my head, still reeling from the intimacy of what I just saw. “Draco, those were… those were memories of me.”

“Congratulations on your observational skills,” he says dryly, but there’s no real malice in his tone.

“Why?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you let me see that?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, quietly, he says, “Because I wanted you to know.”

“Know what?”

“That I remember,” he replies, his gaze locked on mine. “Every moment. Every time you were kind to me when you didn’t have to be. Every time you surprised me. Every time you…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “You’re going through something most grown adults couldn’t handle right now, and I know it’s weighing on you. I just want you to know someone cares. I care.”

His words hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. I stare at him, my mind racing as I try to make sense of everything I’ve just seen—and everything I’m feeling.

A small, grateful smile tugs at my lips as I move to sit on his lap. His arms wrap around me effortlessly and I relax into him, resting my cheek on his shoulder.

“What would I do without you?” I ask softly, nuzzling closer.

He absently strokes my hair, his scent flooding my senses. “You’ll never have to find out.”