The Pact

I wake with a violent start, my heart pounding out of my chest. I can hardly catch my breath and it takes much too long for me to register what’s happening.

A hand curls around my bicep, making me jump.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s just me.”

I grab the wrist of the offending hand with a death grip before my vision adjusts to the dim lighting of what I now remember is the Room of Requirement. The hand, of course, is Draco’s. I must have fallen asleep studying.

I let go of his wrist, the adrenaline still flowing through my veins. “Merde. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” he says softly, his voice low and soothing. “I was wondering if you’d have one.”

He holds his arms out; an open invitation. When I hesitate, his eyes soften. “I know you’re still mad at me, but I’m here. Let me help. Please.”

Too tired to even think of arguing, I reluctantly adjust my position on the sofa to lay my head on his lap. Desperate for comfort, I opt to face inwards, burying my face in his torso.

Draco doesn’t say anything, he just lets his hands fall to work through my hair, taking it out of the updo I had it in and placing each pin he removes in his pocket. I don’t comment on it—I know I’ll get them back. If I don’t, he’d probably buy an entire beauty store to replace them for me.

It’s odd, how we can go from screaming at each other to a comfortable silence with us so close together. I can’t deny how much my body relaxes being this close to him. It’s a side effect of the bond, of the magnetism that pulls us towards each other, but mostly it’s just because even when I can’t stand him, all I want is to be close to him again.

He makes it very difficult to stay mad at him, after all.

I can sense his hand hovering on the backrest of the couch, and I imagine it can’t be comfortable. Without even lifting my head, I simply reach up to grab his hand and move it to the curve of my waist where he usually rests it. Like a habit, he starts to mindlessly move his thumb back and forth.

The quiet that surrounds me gives me too much time to think. I keep hearing Harry’s voice in my head over and over. You love him. He clearly loves you. And yet, here we are.

Fine.

“Draco?” I mumble into his shirt.

He runs a hand through my hair again and hums out a short, “Hm?”

“Thank you. For this. Really. Especially since I’ve been so…”

He gently squeezes my waist to cut me off. “I know. I… I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Of course you didn’t,” I mutter back. “And I knew that. I was just… really overwhelmed.”

He pulls me a little bit closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Never to me. I’ve told you that before. If anyone understands, I do.”

I nod, nuzzling my face further into his shirt, inhaling his scent. I hear him mutter a quiet, “Accio,” taking care not to jostle me, before I hear the familiar sound of a vial being uncorked.

“We don’t have to talk about it tonight. We don’t have to talk about it ever, if that’s what you want. For now, you need sleep. Here’s your potion.”

I roll onto my back, looking straight up at him, to see the dreamless sleep potion from my bag in his hands. It shimmers lightly, temptingly, but I shake my head.

He quirks an eyebrow, confused.

“I can’t rely on it all the time. Snape warned me against it,” I explain.

Draco gives me a worried frown. “But I can see how exhausted you are. And you have this exam to study for…”

I turn back to bury my face in his shirt, waving him away. “I’ll be okay. You’re here.”

The words come out almost reflexively, and by the time I realize what I said, it’s too late to take them back. Not that I really could, though. We both know it’s true.

He cork’s the vial once more and puts it away in my bag, not even questioning me. “Whatever you want.”

The easy understanding between us is enough to make me crumble. He truly knows what I need, and I don’t even have to ask most of the time.

His warmth and scent lull me to sleep once more, my body finally at peace now that the missing half of my magnet set is back. I think I get through a full two hours before I wake again, jerking up to see that Draco hasn’t moved an inch. By some miracle, I don’t wake him up.

I feel bad, though. He can’t be comfortable sitting up like that, but he’s doing it for me, because he knows I need it. As much as I want to be upset with him, it’s nearly impossible right now.

I gently untangle myself from his arms and notice something peaking out of his bag. I quietly rifle through it, only to discover he brought a spare pair of pajamas—and they smell heavily of his cologne.

Damn it, I really can’t be upset with him.

He must’ve had some way of knowing we’d end up this way. Or maybe he just hoped we would. Either way, he wanted to prepare for it and for me to be comfortable. It’s so thoughtful I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes.

Is that what he was doing in between him storming out and coming back to argue? Carefully picking out clothes for me to wear and making sure they’d smell like his cologne? Did he just… know?

I’m much too predictable, I suppose.

When I look in his direction, he’s still fast asleep. I take the opportunity to quietly change, before gently nudging him awake.

“Dray? We can’t have you sleeping like this. Please lay down,” I whisper.

He grumbles. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Come back. Did you have another?”

I shake my head, chuckling to myself at his stubbornness. “Why won’t you lay down?”

“Not enough space for you,” he replies simply.

I tap my chin, before moving the coffee table out of the way. When he hears me moving it, he seems to fully wake up.

“What are you doing?”

I shush him. “Be patient.”

He watches me curiously as I drag the identical couch from the other side of the table to meet the one he’s on, making it wide enough for two. The little smirk on his face, the one that says you’re so clever, makes my heart flutter.

“You’re strong.”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “Duh.”

I climb into our newly made cocoon, insisting he lays down first so I can get comfortable on him. I bring a stray throw blanket over, draping it over us as I lay my head on his chest, my arm around his torso. He wraps his arms around me without a second thought, like it’s as natural as breathing.  

Draco lets out a content sigh, his chin resting lightly against the top of my head. “Better?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

I hum in response, nuzzling closer. “Much.”

The warmth between us is something I could get used to. It’s terrifying, really, how natural it feels—how easy it is to fall back into this, even after everything. But right now, exhaustion wins over my reservations. Right now, I just want to be close to him.

His fingers resume their gentle, absentminded motion against my back, tracing slow, soothing circles. “You should get some sleep,” he whispers.

I close my eyes, letting my body relax fully against his. But just as sleep starts to pull me under, I hear him breathe out my name, so soft I almost miss it.

“Y/n?”

“Mm?”

He hesitates for a second, but then, almost too quiet to hear, he murmurs, “I missed you.”

Something in my chest tightens painfully. I should brush it off, keep up my walls, remind him that missing me doesn’t erase the hurt. But instead, my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping just a little tighter.

“…I missed you, too.”

Draco exhales like he’s been holding his breath this entire time. He pulls me closer, impossibly close, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he loosens his grip even a little.

We don’t say anything else after that. We don’t need to. We can just be, and I thank my lucky stars for that.

By some miracle—or some ancient blood magic, I’m not sure—I don’t wake again until morning.

~

“Come on, mon étoile,” Aurélien whines. “You’ve been working so hard. Let’s go to Hogsmeade with the rest of the school. Just for an hour.”

I shake my head, scribbling down some notes. “I can’t. I have too much to do.”

The words on the page are starting to blur together, but I can’t stop now. I need to cram an insane amount of information into a couple days.

Aury, however, doesn’t care. He takes my quill away from me and holds it above his head. “You can study all the rest of today and all night if you want. But right now, you’re taking a break.”

I grumble, rising to my feet and trying to reach my quill. “Aury, I’m serious. I need—”

“To listen to your dearest friend who only wants what’s best for you,” he cuts me off, smirking. “One hour and I’ll leave you to the books for the rest of time if you want.”

Realizing he’s not going to back down, I groan and cross my arms. “Fine. One hour. Then we come straight back.”

He smiles, already pulling me away from the breakfast table. “Straight back. You have my word.”

We follow the group of students away from Hogwarts and out into civilization. The air in Hogsmeade is crisp, carrying the scent of freshly baked pastries and a hint of frost. Students chatter excitedly, darting in and out of shops, wrapped in scarves and thick coats. Aurélien walks beside me, his hands shoved into his pockets, exuding an easy confidence that contrasts sharply with the anxious knot in my stomach.

I shouldn’t be here. I don’t have time for this.

“And where shall we go first, ma princesse studieuse?” he teases, nudging me gently. “Honeydukes? Scrivenshaft’s? Or shall we simply wander and let fate decide?”

I swallow, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices. “Honeydukes,” I say automatically, because that’s what people do, right? They come to Hogsmeade and buy sweets. It’s normal.

Aurélien grins. “Ah, finally! A good decision.”

But the moment we step inside, the warmth and the overwhelming scent of sugar hit me like a wall. The shelves are stocked with brightly wrapped confections, towering displays of chocolate frogs, and shimmering sugar quills. Students crowd around the counters, excitedly pointing out their favorites.

I hesitate near a display of fizzing whizzbees, my hands hovering over them before shifting to a jar of sherbet lemons, then to the cauldron cakes. My fingers twitch, but I don’t reach for anything.

“What do you want?” Aurélien asks, peering over my shoulder.

“I—” The words catch in my throat.

What do I want?

I stare at the shelves, the endless choices blurring together. My mind spins. Fizzing whizzbees or chocolate frogs? Sugar quills or licorice wands? Nothing feels right. I can’t even decide on something as simple as sweets, because every decision lately feels like life or death, every instinct I have feels like it can’t be trusted.

My throat tightens. I take a step back. “I don’t know.”

He quirks a brow but doesn’t push me. “No worries. Take your time. We have a whole hour,” he teases, wandering off to look at some of the displays on the other side of the store.

I study one wall, then another, then circle around three different display cases before covering my face with my hands for a moment, just trying to breathe. I hear murmurs from my classmates around me, but I can’t bring myself to act normal.

What is normal? All I know is I’m not it.

I walk in circles for long enough that Aurélien finds me again, placing a package of mystery flavor lollies in my hand.

“These were your favorite when we were younger,” he says softly, nudging me up to checkout. “I remember how much you loved them. You can snack on them while you study, okay?”

He always knows just how to ground me. When I’m with Aurélien, I know I’ll never have to make another decision again if I do choose. He’d do it for me, every time.

The gesture is so sweet that I pull him in for a tight hug. “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

He holds me close, smoothing the back of my hair down. “Of course. Anything for you.”

When I pull away, I chew on the inside of my cheek before looking up at him earnestly. “Do you think we could…?”

“As soon as you check out, we can head back, yes.”

The steadiness of his tone settles my nerves just a little, and he follows through on his promise. He walks me back to school hand in hand, chattering away about the weather and the spells he’s learning and what color robes he wants to buy. He knows I’m not really listening, but it doesn’t bother him. He just fills the silence so I don’t have to.

“…and I’m telling you, mon étoile, emerald green is the color for me. It brings out my eyes, don’t you think?” Aurélien gestures dramatically, his free hand sweeping through the air as if he’s already modeling the robes in question.

I glance at him, the corner of my mouth twitching just slightly. “I thought navy blue was the color for you.”

He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest as if I’ve wounded him. “Navy blue is timeless. Sophisticated. But green?” He whistles low. “That’s power. Mystery. The perfect shade to make every professor think I’m far more brilliant than I actually am.”

I let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh, but close. He notices.

His fingers squeeze mine gently, like a silent I’m here.

We step over a small patch of ice on the path back to school, and he keeps talking, his voice effortlessly light, weaving through topics with no particular direction. He tells me about a failed potion experiment that nearly cost him his eyebrows, about a letter from his cousin who just got a Pygmy Puff, about how unfair it is that Beauxbatons’ dining hall doesn’t have treacle tart nearly as often as Hogwarts does.

“I mean, honestly,” he huffs. “I came here expecting grandeur, and yet, I have been personally victimized by the lack of proper French desserts. Don’t you think that’s a crime? We should start a petition.”

His words roll over me like a warm tide, filling in all the spaces where my thoughts would otherwise spiral. He doesn’t ask how I’m feeling. He doesn’t push me to talk. He just is—a steady, unwavering presence beside me.

By the time we reach the castle, I’m still tired, still frayed at the edges, but the suffocating weight in my chest feels a little lighter.

As we step inside, he tugs me gently to a stop. “You’re okay?”

I nod, even though I don’t know if it’s true. “Yeah.”

He studies me for a second, then presses the bag of sweets into my hands. “Good. Now go study your little heart out, mon étoile. I’ll come check on you after a while. You know I can’t stay away from you too long.”

I grip the package of mystery lollies a little tighter, a small smile ghosting over my lips. “I know.”

With one last smile, he ruffles my hair—because he knows it annoys me—and disappears down the hall, leaving me standing there with just a little more air in my lungs than before.

~

Hermione stares at me over the edge of her book, making me squirm. “What?”

She chuckles. “Heard you and Malfoy have made up.”

I roll my eyes, jotting down another bullet point on my French Laws parchment. “We haven’t fully talked anything out yet, if that’s what you mean. But I don’t want to scream at him anymore, so.”

Mione smiles thoughtfully, underlining key words from my parchment and copying them down on another—making a vocabulary list for me. “Guess Harry finally got through to you, did he?”

“What?” I look up at her with a raised brow.

She smirks. “He told me about your conversation with him when you got back from France. I thought it was a little harsh on his end, but it seems to have helped.”

I groan, flipping the page. “It’s, like… totally unfair. Harry can see straight through me. He just knows what to say to get under my skin.”

“He does that, yes,” she replies with a fond smile playing on her lips. “He grew up in a house where he had to gauge people’s emotions before even they knew what they were to protect himself. It’s carried over to his friends now.”

I nod, writing down another bullet point. “I’ve been there.”

The library is relatively quiet today. It’s a Saturday, after all, and there are no major exams coming up—at least not for the other students. Unfortunately for me, though, I have to cram at least a century’s worth of French lawmaking and case files before tomorrow.

Hermione and I work in comfortable silence for a while, the scratch of quills against parchment and the occasional turning of pages filling the space between us. Every now and then, she hums in approval or frowns at a particularly convoluted passage I’ve condensed and translated, but she doesn’t interrupt my focus. She knows how much I need this.

I’ve just started summarizing a section on inheritance laws when a familiar voice drawls from behind me.

“You look like you’re suffering.”

I glance up to find Aurélien leaning casually against the table, peering down at my parchment with mild amusement. His clothes are slightly disheveled, as if he couldn’t be bothered to fix his tie properly, and his curls are even more unruly than usual.

“Because I am,” I reply flatly, pulling a mystery lollie—that I’m starting to think is kiwi flavored—out of my mouth with a pop. “Do you have any idea how many amendments were made to this one law alone? It’s like they couldn’t make up their minds.”

Aurélien grins, pulling out a chair across from me and flipping through the book I’d been referencing. “Ah, the Décret des Héritages Magiques,” he muses, reading over the text with ease. “The French Ministry has always been paranoid about bloodlines and magical property. They changed it constantly to accommodate different political alliances.” He glances up at me. “I can help, if you want.”

I sigh, relieved. “I’d love that, actually.”

Standing behind him are the two boys he stayed with last night—Harry and Ron.

“There you are,” Harry says, dropping his bag onto the table and taking a seat beside Hermione. Ron follows close behind, looking vaguely disgruntled.

“We’ve been looking for you,” Ron mutters, crossing his arms. “Thought you were still sulking in the Room of Requirement.”

I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t sulking. I was working.”

“Looks like you’ve recruited help,” Harry notes, nodding toward Aurélien.

Aurélien smirks, flipping a page. “Naturally. I’d hate for her to fail miserably without me.”

Hermione huffs. “She wouldn’t fail.”

Before we can devolve into bickering, another presence looms nearby.

Draco stands at the edge of our table, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. He hesitates just long enough that I almost expect him to turn and leave, but then, with a resigned sort of exhale, he pulls out a chair beside me.

“What are you looking at?” he asks, gaze flicking to my parchment.

I blink at him. “Sometimes I forget you know French.”

He scoffs. “Obviously. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

Aurélien raises an eyebrow, amused. “Let me guess—you can read it, just not as fast as I can?”

Draco scowls but doesn’t argue. Instead, he picks up the nearest book and starts scanning the text.

I exchange a glance with Hermione, who looks far too pleased with herself. Harry, for his part, seems surprised but doesn’t comment. Ron, on the other hand, looks downright uncomfortable—he looks scared that I’ll start screaming at any moment.

“Well,” Aurélien says, leaning back with an easy smile, “I suppose we’re all in this together, then.”

I shake my head, exhaling. This is definitely not how I imagined my afternoon going. But for once, I don’t mind.

Harry and Ron aren’t particularly fond of studying, reading, or anything academic, really. But they’re here with me, and that counts for something.

Hermione and I continue what we were doing—I summarize and translate passages of the texts and she picks out key words and concepts for me, making a list of vocabulary words for me to go over and jog my memory. Aurélien and Draco do the same as me, giving Hermione more to do, and I think she’s secretly pleased that she doesn’t have to wait so long between words.

Ron, however, starts to look like he’s seconds away from throwing himself out of the nearest window.

“This is torture,” he groans, flopping dramatically onto the table. “How do you lot do this for fun?”

Aurélien smirks. “Who said anything about fun?”

Ron glares at him. “Exactly.”

Harry, who has been halfheartedly flipping through one of my books, suddenly straightens. “Alright, we need to make this more interesting, or Ron’s going to start crying.”

“I am not—”

Harry ignores him. “What if we turn it into a game?”

Hermione perks up. “What kind of game?”

Harry taps his chin thoughtfully, then smirks. “What if we quiz each other, but if you get something wrong, you have to do a ridiculous dare?”

Ron immediately brightens. “Now that I can get behind.”

I raise a brow. “You do realize that means you’re probably going to be the one doing most of the dares, right?”

Ron shrugs. “Worth the risk.”

Aurélien, of course, looks delighted. “I like the way you think, oh Chosen One.”

Even Draco, though visibly reluctant, doesn’t object. He merely flips a page and mutters, “This is a terrible idea.”

Which means he’ll play.

We start small—Hermione quizzes us on a handful of French legal terms, and anyone who gets one wrong has to take a dare from the group.

Ron, predictably, is the first to fail.

“Alright,” Aurélien says, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You have to stand up, dramatically recite the first law on page twenty, and bow as if you’re addressing an audience.”

Ron groans but obeys, clearing his throat and launching into a hilariously over-the-top performance about property rights. When he finishes with an exaggerated flourish, the group breaks into laughter—even Draco, though he tries to hide it behind his book.

The game continues, the dares getting more absurd as time goes on. Harry has to compliment Filch’s cat the next time he sees her, Hermione has to say “I suppose you have a point” to Snape in class, and Aurélien—thanks to Draco—has to call McGonagall “Your Majesty” the next time she addresses him.

We’re all giggling over the list of upcoming punishments when a small, familiar voice pipes up beside me.

“Miss Y/n is working hard!”

I turn, grinning when I see Tansy, one of the kitchen elves, peering up at me with wide, curious eyes.

“Tansy!” I exclaim. “What are you doing here?”

The tiny elf wrings her hands. “Tansy was bringing Master Snape his tea when she heard Miss laughing, so Tansy thought to check if Miss and her friends are needing anything.”

Hermione softens immediately, her usual stance on house-elf labor temporarily overridden by how adorable Tansy is. “That’s very kind of you, Tansy.”

The elf beams, then turns to me. “Miss Y/n always talks to Tansy in the kitchens. Miss Y/n is always very nice. Would Miss and her friends like some snacks while they study?”

Ron lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “Oh, I love you.”

Tansy giggles. “Tansy will bring the best treats!”

With that, she disappears with a crack, leaving Ron looking utterly enchanted.

“You really do know everyone, don’t you?” Harry teases.

I shrug. “I spend a lot of time in the kitchens.”

Draco, who has been mostly quiet, glances at me with something unreadable in his expression. The game, the laughter, the way I interact with the elves—it’s something he isn’t used to lately. I’ve been so worked up, I’ve hardly had time to even think about relaxing—but he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, when Tansy returns with a tray of pastries and warm cocoa, he simply takes a cup and mutters a quiet, “Thank you.”

Tansy beams.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, things feel easy. I really do have the best friends in the world, and no one can change my mind about that.

We continue on until dark, not needing to go down for so much as a meal with Tansy doting on us. The librarian seems annoyed at the noise, but with there being almost no one else here, she doesn’t stop us.

“Okay,” Hermione says with a clap of her hands, “we’ve officially gotten through all the material. Y/n, how are you feeling?”

I run a hand over my face. “Could be better, but all things considered, I think I’ll be okay.”

She nods, handing me a parchment she was working on that she wouldn’t show me earlier. “This is a mock exam. I tried to include as much of the material as possible, so it’s quite long. How you score on this should tell us how you’ll fare tomorrow.”

I groan, staring at the parchment in my hands. “You really are evil, you know that?”

Hermione smirks. “You’ll thank me when you pass.”

Ron leans over to glance at the mock exam and immediately winces. “Blimey, Hermione, this looks harder than anything McGonagall’s ever assigned.”

“That’s the point,” she says primly. “If Y/n can get through this, tomorrow will be a breeze.”

I sigh, rolling out my shoulders. “Alright. No point in putting it off.”

The others quiet as I begin, only the occasional shuffle of parchment or muffled whisper breaking the silence. My quill moves steadily, answering questions to the best of my ability. Some sections come easily—thanks to Hermione’s meticulous notes and Aurélien’s clarifications—but others make me pause, forehead scrunching as I try to recall the finer details of certain laws and amendments.

Draco, who hasn’t spoken much since Tansy’s visit, watches me carefully, like he’s trying to gauge my confidence with each question I tackle. When I hesitate too long on a particular section, he nudges an open book toward me without a word. I glance up at him in surprise, but he doesn’t meet my eyes, pretending to be absorbed in his own reading instead.

Still, the gesture warms something in my chest.

It takes me nearly an hour to finish, and by the time I set my quill down, my hand aches from writing. I exhale, stretching my fingers. “Alright. That was brutal.”

Hermione takes the parchment from me and immediately begins grading, eyes scanning each answer with practiced efficiency. The rest of us wait in tense silence, except for Ron, who has started munching on one of Tansy’s pastries to distract himself from the secondhand stress.

Finally, Hermione looks up.

“Well?” Harry prompts.

She purses her lips. “You did well.”

I blink. “Define well?”

She hands me the parchment back, now marked with notes in neat, precise handwriting. “You answered correctly on about eighty percent of the material. The remaining twenty percent are topics you need to review, but they aren’t major enough to fail you. If you can brush up on those tonight, you’ll be fine.”

Aurélien grins. “See? Not bad at all.”

Harry claps a hand on my shoulder. “Told you you’d get through it.”

Ron lets out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin, because if I had to spend another full day in the library, I think I’d die.”

I laugh, skimming over Hermione’s notes. “Alright, let’s go over the weak spots, then. One more round before I call it a night.”

Draco, who has remained mostly silent throughout the exchange, finally speaks up.

“You missed a section on legal precedents for intergovernmental disputes.” He gestures to my parchment, where Hermione has underlined a few answers. “It was covered in that massive law book from earlier. You should reread those pages.”

I stare at him for a second.

He shifts slightly. “What?”

“…Nothing,” I murmur, suppressing a smile. “Thanks, Draco.”

He blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that, then quickly looks away. “Whatever. Just don’t fail and embarrass yourself.”

Aurélien snickers, and I kick him under the table.

With that, we dive back in, my friends helping me study the topics I missed. It’s late by the time we finally leave the library, but as I head to my dorm, I feel just a little more optimistic about the exam tomorrow.

Hannah and I end up accidentally finding each other on our way in, which is always a welcome surprise.

“Hey,” she says lightly, eyeing my very heavy looking bag. “How’d studying go?”

I shrug my shoulders. “About as well as it could’ve. It’s still a lot, but I think I’ll be okay.”

She nods thoughtfully as we wind through the corridors. The castle is alive with the usual weekend chatter, along with the sound of heeled boots clicking on the stone floors and the hum of the moving staircases. “I knew you’d be fine. Especially since you’re studying with Hermione Granger—she’s tops in everything.”

I chuckle. “She’s definitely really smart. Kinda scary as a teacher though. Very motivating.”

“Oh, I bet,” Hannah teases.

We walk along a little farther, rounding the corner near a set of bathrooms. Hannah taps my arm quickly.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” I say with a quick gesture into the doorway. She smiles gratefully and locks herself in one of the stalls.

I lean against the wall in the corner, twirling my wand in my fingers when I overhear a conversation between two girls. I ignore it at first, not wanting to be nosy.

“Guess who we ran into at the shops?” the first girl says in a hushed tone. “The Lavigné girl!”

I freeze, my shoulder straightening.

Never mind. I’m definitely listening.

“No way!” the other replies. “The transfer?”

I lock myself in one of the stalls closer to them so I can hear better. “Mhm,” she replies. “It was so weird. She was walking around in circles like she was lost or something.”

“Didn’t you hear?” one of the girls—with a much more annoying voice—whisper shouts. “Her and Malfoy have been fighting. Rumor is they broke off the engagement.”

“They’re engaged?” the other replies, not bothering to keep her voice down.

“Well, I mean, not technically. But they were arranged to be married! So they basically were.”

The nasally girl gasps. “Where did you hear that from?”

Her friend scoffs. “I dunno. Some Slytherin girl.”

“Well can you even trust it then? I mean, she’s a Slytherin.”

The girl just laughs in response. “I mean, probably not, but it totally makes sense. Both of their families are super rich. Isn’t that what they do? Marry off their kids for money or whatever?”

“Mm,” the (definitely more clueless) friend hums. “You have a point. Merlin, what happened? How did it end?”

“No one knows. But Adeline thinks she might’ve met his parents and it didn’t go well. I mean, what if they met her and then they thought she was a terrible witch or stupid or something and said, ‘you can’t marry our son’?”

I hear the grating laugh of the annoying one—that’s what I’ll call her, I suppose—before she chastises her friend. “Tara, that’s mean.”

Tara giggles. “No, I’m not saying I think she’s a bad witch or something. Just like, what if the Malfoys did? Wouldn’t that be terrible?”

“Oh, I would just die,” her friend replies with a lilt. “Such a shame. They were a cute couple.”

“Isn’t it?” Tara says. “Oh well, though. That means Draco is back on the market at least. I’d like to take a shot at him.”

The annoying one sighs. “Honestly, Tara. He’s a total prat.”

“But he’s so handsome,” Tara coos.

I hear their doors click open and the faucet runs, the sound covered up by that nails-on-a-chalkboard laugh again. “Yeah, obviously. But be realistic, he’d never go for anyone who isn’t a wealthy pureblood like him.”

“I know you’re right,” Tara replies melodically. “But a girl can dream.”

They giggle to each other but the sound fades, cut off when they leave the room.

Lovely. Just when I thought the rumors died down, they’re back in full swing.

I just can’t catch a break.

As I walk out of the stall, Hannah pops out immediately after, red in the face. “What the hell was their problem? I can’t even—”

“It’s fine, Han,” I say gently. “I’m used to it.”

She huffs, washing her hands rather aggressively. “That doesn’t matter. I can’t believe they were talking about something so terrible that might’ve happened to you so casually! And they were laughing about it. They thought it was funny!”

“It’s not a big deal,” I reply, fiddling with my wand once more. “You know how gossip gets around here.”

Hannah dries her hands off before turning to face me. “I just can’t stand when people act like that. Especially towards my best friend. I’m going to handle it, don’t you worry.”

“Hannah…”

“No, no, no. I heard one of their names was Tara, and she mentioned a friend named Adeline. Must have been Tara Windlen. She’s a Ravenclaw in our year, and I’d recognize that other voice anywhere. Spectra Cinderlow. Gryffindor. Trust me, those two are going to be sorry they ever made up all those awful lies about you!”

I take a step closer, placing my hands on either side of her shoulders. “Seriously, it’s okay. Besides, they’re not completely wrong. Draco and I have been on rocky terms lately. And we are arranged to be married. They just stretched the rest for a more interesting story.”

Hannah’s eyes widen slightly, her anger momentarily forgotten. “Wait—I know about the marriage obviously, but you two are fighting again?”

I sigh, dropping my hands and leaning back against the sink. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

She crosses her arms, tilting her head. “More complicated than gossiping girls thinking you got dumped because Malfoy’s parents hated you?”

I scoff. “A lot more complicated than that.”

Hannah studies me for a moment before her expression softens. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me everything. But… are you okay?”

I press my lips together, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. I mean, not really, but I will be.”

She gives me a look like she doesn’t quite believe me, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she offers a small smile. “Well, even if you don’t want me to hex those two into next week, just say the word. You know I’ve been working on my Bat-Bogey Hex.”

I let out a breathy laugh. “As tempting as that is, I think I’ll pass.”

“Fine, fine,” she relents, nudging my arm as we start walking again. “But if they bring it up again, I’m at least throwing a stink pellet at them in the Great Hall.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help smiling. “You’re relentless.”

“And proud of it,” she replies with a grin.

The tension from earlier hasn’t completely faded, but as we walk back toward the dorms, I feel a little lighter. Even if the rumors keep spreading, at least I have someone in my corner.