The Pact

“Hermione!” I shout as I tumble in through the floo.

Every head in the room whips around to face me, wide eyed.

Hermione runs over. “What? What is it?”

I pull back my overcoat to reveal my official Conseil des Sorciers uniform—a blue turtleneck, a silver vest, black trousers and the most stunning sapphire encrusted white boots. Her eyes go wide, and everyone else in the group finally catches up, taking in the sight in front of them.

“I did it! I secured the seats!”

“You did?” Hermione gasps, her hands flying to her mouth.

I nod frantically, barely able to contain my excitement. “Yes! I’m officially part of the Conseil des Sorciers! They’re mine!”

For a second, there’s stunned silence. Then—

“Oh my Merlin!” Hermione shrieks, launching herself at me. I barely have time to brace before she collides, throwing her arms around my neck in a tight hug. “I knew it!”

“Bloody hell,” Ron breathes, staring at my uniform once Mione lets go. “You’re basically government now.”

Harry grins, clapping me on the back. “We knew you could pull it off. This is incredible.”

Draco tilts his head and murmurs, “It suits you. The boots especially.”

I laugh, overwhelmed by their excitement, but then my eyes find Hermione’s. She looks like she might actually cry.

“Hermione,” I say, reaching for her hands. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Her brows furrow. “That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.” I squeeze her hands, my voice earnest. “You drilled me incessantly. I would’ve flopped that written exam without you, and you know it. I got a 90% because of you.”

Her face flushes pink. “Well, you did the work—”

“And I had the best tutor.”

She laughs, pulling me in for another bone-crushing hug. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

A chorus of agreement follows—Ron ruffling my hair, Harry still grinning like he’s won a Quidditch Cup, and Draco looking both relieved and smitten. He’s definitely admiring me in my new uniform, and it gives me butterflies.

This is my moment, but we did this together.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

~

“You look like you’re going to fall asleep in that chair,” Ron quips, his eyes wide. “How can they expect you to do all that paperwork on top of school?”

I groan. “Believe it or not, Ron, most members of the Council have already graduated and don’t have anything else to do.”

“That’s still quite a bit,” Hermione adds. “To be expected, though. It’s a government position.”

I nod, scrawling another signature on the page, marking down notes for possible addendums to the laws the Council is considering. “Yes, well, this is what I get for trying to get some allies. I haven’t even started my paper for potions yet. Think Snape will give me an extension?”

Draco shifts beside me. “For us? No. For you? Maybe.”

Harry slides his library book off to the side, abandoning his homework. “It’s not fair that he gives you special treatment. I don’t care if he’s your mentor. You’re not even a Slytherin!”

I smirk, still focused on my paperwork. “Well, Harry, maybe he just recognizes talent when he sees it.”

Ron scoffs. “Or maybe he just likes anyone who’s not us.”

Draco huffs a quiet laugh beside me, then leans in slightly, his voice lower, more deliberate. “Blue looks good on you,” he says, eyes flicking over my new Conseil-issued robes. “Very professional.”

I glance up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks. I suppose it’s better than my usual uniform.”

“It suits you,” he continues, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “You look like you belong in those meetings, not just some student playing at politics.”

I raise a brow. “High praise, coming from you.”

He doesn’t deny it, just tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering something.

Hermione, who’s been following the exchange with thinly veiled curiosity, clears her throat. “So, what exactly are you working on?”

I sigh, flipping through the stack of papers. “A bit of everything. General Council intake papers, adjustments to existing laws, and then the ones for each seat I’m holding—Defense and International Affairs.”

Ron whistles. “That sounds miserable.”

I shrug. “It’s mostly just formalities right now—reviewing policies, approving small-scale proposals—but eventually, it’ll be more than that.” I tap a particular document. “This one’s about inter-governmental cooperation on Dark artifact trafficking. Apparently, there’s been a rise in smuggling between Britain and the continent.”

Draco’s interest sharpens. “And what exactly do you plan to do about it?”

I glance at him, then back down at my notes. “That depends on how much control they’ll actually give me.”

Harry frowns. “Wait, does this mean you’ll be handling stuff that involves the Ministry?”

“Eventually, yes,” I admit. “The Conseil works with the Wizengamot on a lot of issues. Especially now, with everything happening.”

Ron looks skeptical. “And they trust you with that?”

I smirk. “Apparently.”

Draco watches me closely, something unreadable in his expression. “I’m not sure if that’s impressive or terrifying.”

I grin. “Why not both?”

“Because then he’d have to admit you’re better than him,” Harry teases, leaning back in his seat. “And we all know how he hates that.”

Draco rolls his eyes and I chuckle lightly. “I’m not better than anyone. I just have a little more… influence now.”

They all laugh, and Hermione peaks over the table at the stack of papers and frowns. “Wish I could help Y/n, but unfortunately, I don’t speak French.”

“It’s alright,” I wave her off. “You couldn’t anyway. These documents are charmed so only I can read them. Anyone else who tries will just see gibberish.”

Ron perks up slightly at that. “Wicked.”

Draco peers over my shoulder at the documents as well, close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck. “That must be why it’s all floating around like that. I thought I suddenly became dyslexic.”

Harry and Ron bust out laughing, and Harry covers his mouth in surprise. “Malfoy, did you just… make a joke?”

Draco huffs, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t sound so shocked, Potter. I do have a sense of humor.”

Ron wipes a tear from his eye. “Yeah, but usually it’s at our expense.”

I shake my head, turning back to my papers. “Alright, if you’re all done marveling at Draco’s ability to be funny, I still have a mountain of work to get through—including actual schoolwork.” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “At this rate, I’ll be up all night.”

Hermione immediately straightens up. “What do you need help with? I already finished the Potions essay, so I can walk you through it.”

I shoot her a grateful look. “That would be amazing. I haven’t even started.”

Ron groans. “Ugh, that thing? I barely got through mine. But if you need notes, I might be willing to share.”

I arch a brow. “Might?”

He grins. “Depends on how much you appreciate my generosity.”

“Ron,” Hermione scolds.

I roll my eyes. “Fine, fine. I deeply appreciate your generosity. Now, hand ‘em over.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Ron slides his parchment across the table. “I expect full credit in your acknowledgments.”

Harry chuckles. “I can help with Transfiguration if you haven’t done that yet.”

I sigh in relief. “I was hoping someone would say that. McGonagall’s going to kill me if I don’t turn that in tomorrow.”

Draco clears his throat. “And what about Arithmancy?”

I blink at him. “You’re offering to help me with Arithmancy?”

He shrugs, feigning indifference. “You’re clearly drowning in work. Can’t have you failing out of school while you’re off playing politics.”

I smirk. “Is that concern I hear, Dray?”

He smirks right back. “Call it what you want. Do you want my help or not?”

I pretend to think for a moment before handing him my unfinished Arithmancy assignment. “Fine. But if you get a single question wrong, I’m holding it against you forever.”

Draco scoffs. “Please. I’m never wrong.”

Ron leans back, arms behind his head. “Merlin, this is getting weird. First Malfoy makes a joke, now he’s voluntarily helping? What’s next, is he going to start sitting with us at meals?”

Draco glares. “Don’t push it, Weaslebee.”

“Dray.”

“You’re no fun,” he whines, already writing away on my arithmancy parchment. “Weasley. Better?”

I shake my head, crossing my legs up underneath me. “A little better, yes. Though I’d prefer if you started learning their first names.”

“No need,” Harry states matter of factly, digging out his transfiguration book. “We think of him as Malfoy, so it’s only fair.”

Finally taking a moment to actually look up, I quirk an eyebrow at the messy-haired boy. “Not always. You called him Draco not too long ago.”

He brushes me off. “That’s different. That was an accident. I was just worried about you.”

Draco’s quill stills against my parchment, but he doesn’t say anything. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, catching the way his jaw tenses ever so slightly before he resumes writing as if he hadn’t heard.

Harry, seemingly oblivious to the sudden shift in the air, continues flipping through his Transfiguration book. “Anyway, let’s just get this over with. What part are you stuck on?”

I tear my eyes away from Draco and refocus. “Most of it, honestly.” I pull my Transfiguration notes toward me with a sigh. “McGonagall wants an essay on Vanishment spells, but I’m struggling with the theory part.”

Hermione, already in full tutoring mode, scoots closer. “It’s all about understanding the fundamental principles of unmaking. You have to visualize the object breaking down into its base magical components before it ceases to exist.”

Ron groans. “That’s exactly why I hate Transfiguration. It’s basically magical disintegration, and somehow, that’s supposed to be simple?”

Draco scoffs, not looking up from my Arithmancy paper. “It is simple. You just don’t think critically enough, Weasley.”

Ron glares. “And you think too much.”

I sigh dramatically. “If you two don’t stop bickering, I will vanish you both.”

Draco smirks. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t tempt me, Malfoy.”

Ron leans in with a grin. “Do it. I dare you.”

Harry just shakes his head. “You lot are impossible.”

Despite the teasing, I feel some of the weight on my shoulders lessen. Even with my impossible workload, at least I have them.

“Seriously, though, thank you guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re always here even when I’m being… well, me.” I run a hand over my face, sighing. “I know I can be a lot sometimes so just thank you for sticking around.”

Draco nudges me with his elbow. “Don’t go all Hufflepuff on us now, Lavigné.”

I chuckle softly. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

We go back to our respective tasks for a while, with the others looking over my schoolwork and me tending to my stack of documents, which is slowly but surely getting smaller.

After maybe an hour or so, I put my quill down and stretch my hands out. “Merlin, I need a break. My fingers are about to fall off.”

The others nod, encouraging me to stand up. Hermione gestures down the hall. “Go on, take a lap or get a snack or something. You deserve it.”

One side of my mouth curves up into a smile. “How about I go grab some snacks from Tansy for all of us to share?”

“Yes, do that,” Ron says excitedly. “That would be awesome.”

I ruffle Draco’s hair as I walk past him, an old habit from when we spent every waking minute together that I haven’t quite broken. I don’t even mean to, but thankfully, he doesn’t call attention to it. He just grumbles and fixes it again.

As I’m walking out of the library, the doors swinging open almost hit me. I stop in my tracks, the wood mere centimeters from my nose.

“Oops, sorry,” the girl—actually, that’s Astoria Greengrass—says, holding onto Pansy’s arm.

I shake my head, offering her a small smile. “No worries. You’re fine.”

Her eyes lock onto Draco’s garishly light hair almost immediately, and she freezes into place before Pansy shakes her.

“Tori, come on. I told you he was probably in here.”

Pansy gives me a mischievous smile, her eyes glinting with something dark.

I quirk an eyebrow, too caught off guard to control my face.

Astoria tries to take a step back, but Pansy stops her. “Never mind, I don’t know if I want to—”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Pansy jeers, tugging on her arm. “You wanted to ask him out. Now’s your chance.”

Oh.

That’s what’s going on.

“But he’s surrounded by people and—”

“Who cares? You’re a Slytherin. Act like it. Draco likes bold anyway,” Pansy says with an eye roll.

Finally grasping the context, I cross my arms, keeping a neutral expression on my face. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Astoria.”

“And why’s that?” Pansy asks, that evil glint in her eye returning.

I gesture vaguely back at Draco. “Because… he’s taken.”

Pansy laughs. “He is not. According to him and all of his friends, he’s single.”

“Maybe, but—”

Pansy cuts me off, holding her hand up in front of my face. “If he’s single, he’s single, and that’s that.”

Astoria eyes me warily, and I’m confused as to why they’re not getting the hint. They saw us at the party all that time ago. Label or not, he’s mine.

“I’m just saying, he isn’t really single. But if you don’t want to listen to me, I can’t stop you.”

I hold my hands up in mock surrender, taking a step back.

Pansy huffs, dragging Astoria towards him. “I think we’ll go see for ourselves.”

Now this, I’m curious about.

I stay where I am, arms crossed, watching as Pansy all but shoves Astoria toward Draco. Astoria looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, and frankly, I don’t blame her.

Draco, hunched over his parchment, doesn’t notice them at first. It’s only when Pansy clears her throat—obnoxiously, I might add—that he glances up. His expression is blank at first, but the second he realizes what’s happening, his brows furrow.

“Greengrass,” he says flatly, setting his quill down. “What do you want?”

Astoria hesitates, but Pansy nudges her forward again, her smirk widening. “Go on, Tori. Say what you wanted to say.”

Draco exhales sharply, clearly impatient. “I don’t have all day.”

Astoria swallows, her eyes flickering toward me for a brief second before she finally speaks. “I—um—I was wondering if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade this weekend. With me.”

Silence.

Draco barely looks up from his parchment, clearly unimpressed. “No.”

Astoria blinks. “Oh.”

Pansy, of course, isn’t about to let that slide. She lets out an exaggerated scoff. “No? That’s all you have to say?”

Draco lifts his head, his gaze sharp. “I’m already involved.”

I freeze.

Astoria’s face falls, and Pansy’s eyes narrow. “That’s funny,” she says slowly, tilting her head. “Because as far as I know, you’re single.”

Draco exhales, clearly annoyed. “You don’t know everything, Parkinson.”

Pansy’s smirk twitches, her gaze flicking between us. “Oh, really? And who, exactly, are you involved with?”

Draco leans back slightly in his chair, giving her a dry look. “That’s none of your concern.”

Astoria, who looks like she wants the floor to swallow her whole, quickly nods. “Right—um—sorry for bothering you.” She barely gets the words out before turning on her heel and practically fleeing the library.

Pansy, however, lingers. She crosses her arms, tapping her fingers against her sleeve. “You know, if you were actually involved with someone, I’d already know about it.”

Draco levels her with a look. “Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

The words hit their mark. Pansy’s smirk falters just enough for me to catch it before she masks it with a huff. “Fine. Keep your little secrets, then.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and saunters out after Astoria, but not before shooting me a pointed glance on her way out.

The second the doors close behind her, Ron lets out a low whistle. “Well, that was interesting.”

Hermione glances at Draco, who has already returned to his work like nothing happened. “So… ‘involved,’ huh?”

Draco doesn’t look up. “I don’t recall asking for commentary.”

I shake my head, biting back a smile as I make my way down to the kitchens.

Is it wrong for me to be possessive over him, knowing he drives me mad most of the time?

Once again, not the time.

I gather some sweets and tea (“Of course Tansy would love to make miss and her friends some snacks!”) and head back up to the library, which is still relatively empty. The librarian on shift doesn’t even bat an eye at me bringing food in anymore—we have a quiet truce. She lets me do my thing, and I help her organize books in my free time.

“Ta-da!” I say with a grin, moving some papers aside and setting down the tray. “Refreshments, anyone?”

Ron is the first to reach out. “Yes, please.”

I shake my head and settle back into my seat next to Draco, steadying myself on his shoulder as I pass by so I don’t trip over his feet. He smirks, thinking I can’t see it, but doesn’t comment.

Hermione takes some tea for herself and sips it thoughtfully before placing it in her lap. “So, Y/n. I had a thought.”

“That’s never good,” Draco mutters and I seat him on the shoulder.

Hermione presses on, ignoring him. “Next time you’re in France, you should try to see if you can find your grandmother.”

I cross my legs, my newly issued Council boots on display. “I’ve been thinking about that, actually. I wanted to take a trip to the valley, but I don’t know it well and I really need to stop pulling Aurélien out of Beaux’s. I don’t want him getting caught.”

She nods, furrowing her brow in consideration before Draco looks up from my parchment. “I can take you.”

“Hm?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “I said I can take you. We have a vacation home in France near Loire Valley. It’s about a fifteen minute walk, and I know a lot of the shops there. It can’t be too hard to find your grandmother’s estate. Knowing your family, it’s probably huge.”

“Of course he has a bloody vacation home,” Ron huffs, biting into his biscuit.

Draco quirks an eyebrow at him. “Yes, Weasley, my family is rich. A shocking revelation, I know.”

“Piss off, Malfoy,” he grumbles in response.

I give them both a sharp glare. “Be nice. That includes you, Ron. You too, Harry.”

Harry puts his arms up in exasperation, a biscuit in one hand. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it,” I reply quickly, pointing at him.

Draco exhales sharply, leaning back against the couch. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—” he shoots a pointed look at Ron, who scowls, “—we could go during spring break. It’ll be easier to move around without prying eyes.”

Hermione perks up. “That actually makes sense. If we’re all together, we can split up and search for any signs of Catherine. Y/n, do you know if she’s still living in the same estate?”

I hesitate, tracing my finger over the rim of my cup. “I don’t know. If she’s involved in whatever my parents are doing, she could have moved, but that’s why I want to check. And if I show up alone, she might not even let me in.”

Draco nods. “That’s where I come in. My family name carries weight in certain circles—”

“Oh, we know,” Ron mutters.

Draco ignores him. “If we happen to be ‘shopping’ in the area and just happen to find ourselves near her estate, it won’t look as suspicious as you showing up unannounced.”

Hermione looks between us, thinking. “If that’s the case, it wouldn’t hurt for all of us to go. We can split up and ask around, see if anyone in the village knows about her.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’d all come with me?”

“Of course,” Hermione says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Ron groans, crossing his arms. “Why do I feel like this is going to turn into another one of those ‘let’s sneak around and almost get caught’ adventures?”

Harry grins. “Because it probably will.”

I smirk at Draco. “Well, Malfoy, looks like your vacation home is about to get a little crowded.”

He exhales through his nose, as if already regretting the offer. “Brilliant.”

“Oh, come off it, Malfoy,” Harry chortles. “You know we’re a good time. We’ll make a weekend of it.”

Draco rolls his eyes, scoffing. “If any of you break anything, you’re paying for it in blood.”

Ron snorts. “What, afraid we’ll ruin your priceless silk curtains?”

Draco smirks. “No, but I am afraid you’ll mistake the silverware for a free souvenir set.”

Ron glares. “You absolute—”

I clap my hands together, cutting him off. “Alright! Enough. We’ll set some ground rules before we go. No fighting, no breaking things, and no cursing each other across the dining table.”

Draco hums. “Fine. But if Weasley so much as breathes near the antique vases, I’m hexing him.”

“Malfoy,” Hermione warns.

“Alright, alright,” Harry laughs. “So we’re really doing this, then? A weekend in Loire Valley?”

I nod, excitement bubbling under my skin. “Looks like it. We’ll make a plan, keep a low profile, and see if we can find anything on Catherine.”

Hermione taps her chin. “It might help if we research any known properties under her name before we go. If we show up with nothing, we’ll be wandering in the dark.”

Draco tilts his head. “I can probably get a list of properties in the area through my father’s contacts.”

We all turn to stare at him.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow. “You lot act like I don’t have resources. It’s adorable.”

Hermione gives him a suspicious look. “And how exactly would you explain why you need those records?”

Draco shrugs. “I won’t. I’ll just say my father wants to keep track of the families in the area. Which, technically, wouldn’t even be a lie.”

I glance between them, my mind already racing. This could work. “Then it’s settled. We prepare, we plan, and we go.”

Ron exhales, shaking his head. “Merlin help me, I can already feel the trouble coming.”

Harry grins. “That’s the fun part.”

~

The next few weeks pass in the all too familiar haze of too much happening. Not only have I condemned myself to a heady combination of schoolwork and council assigned meetings (that I have to sneak out to) and paperwork (that I have a very hard time completing away from prying eyes), February has begun. Of course, that means Valentines Day.

Hannah, of course, is ecstatic about it. Every single day for the past week and a half, she’s received a Cupid’s Note from Neville—a customizable card that comes with an appropriately colored rose, red for romance or white for platonic love, and a sweet of the buyer’s choosing.

Our dorm, I’m convinced, will smell like chocolates for the rest of the semester.

I haven’t had much time to think about participating in buying Cupid’s Notes or the upcoming Cupid’s Ball, considering I have to go to bed late and wake up early just to keep myself on track with all of the tasks I’ve been given. That isn’t to say, though, that I haven’t received any notes or dance proposals.

Some have been anonymous—others come with amortentia-laced sweets and photographs of the offending wizards vying for my eye. It would be a real problem if I didn’t have a keen ability to detect the potion, and it would be flattering if it weren’t always so embarrassing.

During Transfiguration after another long weekend working tirelessly on school and legal work, Professor McGonagall is halfway through an explanation on human-to-object transfigurations when the door flies open. I barely register the sudden burst of movement before a choir of fifth-years in pink-accented robes files into the room, singing a painfully upbeat tune that echoes off the high stone walls.

A few students snicker. Others look horrified on my behalf, which, frankly, I appreciate.

Professor McGonagall’s lips press into a line so thin it’s practically invisible. Her eyes are steely, but she doesn’t stop the spectacle. She can’t. Per school tradition—endorsed by none other than Headmaster Dumbledore himself—Cupid’s Notes must be delivered with full pomp and circumstance. No interruptions, no exceptions.

The lead singer, a boy from Hufflepuff with a voice entirely too cheerful for this time of morning, steps forward dramatically. He holds a bright red envelope in one hand and a single crimson rose in the other.

“To you,” he sings, drawing out the word unnecessarily, “with admiration and affection from a secret admirer.”

My stomach sinks. I can already feel the heat rushing to my face as the entire class turns to look at me. Even Hannah, who normally thrives on drama, looks like she’s trying not to laugh.

The serenade crescendos, complete with harmony and hand choreography. When they finally finish, the Hufflepuff boy sets the rose and note on my desk with a bow. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Lavigné,” he says with a wink before exiting with the choir in perfect formation.

Silence.

Professor McGonagall clears her throat, visibly struggling to maintain her composure. “If we are quite done with… that,” she says dryly, adjusting her spectacles, “I suggest we return to the matter at hand. Ten points from Hufflepuff for excessive theatrics during class hours.”

The class dissolves into barely contained giggles. I tuck the rose, chocolates, and note into my bag as discreetly as possible, heart still racing, and try to focus on transfiguring a quill into a teacup.

But it’s no use.

The words from the note caught my eye: “You’re always too busy for fun, so I thought I’d give you something to make you smile. Save me a dance at the Cupid’s Ball?”

No name. Just a flourish of ink at the bottom.

A secret admirer.

Hannah nudges me in the side, dropping her voice to a whisper. “That’s got to be, what, your hundredth note?”

I groan, covering my face. “Someone just put me out of my misery. This is terrible.”

“I think it’s sweet,” she replies with a lilt.

I peek out at her from between my fingers. “I’m glad one of us does.”

Transfiguration drones on for the rest of the hour, though I pretend not to notice all the stares and whispers about me from my classmates.

I mean seriously, who came up with this?

As I sit with my usual group in the Room of Requirement, Harry shares a similar sentiment.

“No, Ron. You can’t eat anything they send me. You saw what happened last year,” he sighs.

Ron folds his arms over his chest. “It’s not fair. I don’t care if you’re the Chosen One. How come you get all the attention? I’m quite fun and dashing myself.”

Draco actually laughs at that, but quickly clears his throat to cover it up. “Yes, Weasley. I’m sure the girls are just waiting for their opportunity to get their hands in that copper mop on your head that you call hair.”

“Shut up! Y/n, can’t you tell him to shut up?” Ron whines.

I chuckle before putting my hands up in mock surrender. “This is not my fight.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s not about attention, Ron. Half the sweets they send me are laced with love potions. You know how many times Slughorn had to brew an antidote for me last year?”

Ron shrugs. “Still seems like a waste to throw perfectly good chocolate away. I’d risk it.”

“You wouldn’t risk it, Ron,” Hermione interjects, her eyes narrowing. “You’d end up in the Hospital Wing again, and I’d have to spend another afternoon explaining to Madam Pomfrey why you’re convinced you’re in love with the floor tiles.”

Draco snickers at that. “You Gryffindors are always so dramatic.”

“We’re dramatic?” Harry raises a brow. “You literally staged a duel last week because someone stepped on your cloak.”

“It was custom-tailored, Potter,” Draco huffs. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Ignoring him, Harry turns to me. “I don’t get how you can always tell when sweets are spiked. I just throw them all out because it’s easier than guessing.”

I blink at him, genuinely surprised. “You can’t tell?”

“Nope,” he says simply, popping the P. “They all taste the same to me.”

“Taste?” I ask, exasperated. “You’re tasting them to figure it out? That’s so dangerous!”

Harry gives me a confused look. “It’s usually not on purpose. Besides, how else are you supposed to tell?”

“I can just smell it,” I reply matter of factly. When everyone just stares at me blankly, I furrow my brow. “Am I the only one who can tell when something’s been tampered with?”

Ron and Harry exchange a blank look, while Hermione raises a curious brow. Draco, on the other hand, smirks. “Gifted, are we? Should we start calling you the Potion Whisperer?”

“Please don’t.” I rub my forehead. “It’s just a knack, I guess.”

“Well, it’s a useful one,” Hermione says thoughtfully. “Maybe you should teach Harry. It might save him a trip to St. Mungo’s one of these days.”

“Or,” Draco cuts in, “she could just taste-test all his Valentine’s gifts. Truly a noble sacrifice.”

I roll my eyes. “Pass. I’ve got my own secret admirer problem to deal with.”

Harry gives me a knowing look. “Don’t let them get to you. Just throw them out like I do.”

“Yeah,” Ron adds, grinning. “Or give them to me. Love potion or not, sweets are sweets.”

“You’d eat love potion-laced candy?” I ask, raising a brow.

Ron shrugs. “Love’s a gamble anyway. Might as well enjoy the ride.”

Draco puffs out something between an exhale and a chuckle before turning to me. “A secret admirer, you say? Now I’m curious.”

I shrug, pulling out multiple notes from my bag. “Me too. I’m not even sure if it’s just one. Could be several. I dunno, I’ve gotten so many of these things I don’t even pay attention anymore.”

“Maybe we should try to find out who it is,” Ron says, perking up. “Could be a fun mystery to solve.”

Harry nods his head in agreement but I wave them off. “Feel free, but unfortunately, I don’t have time to solve any more mysteries. I’m still waiting for spring break to roll around so we can look for my grandmother.”

They sigh, but don’t push me. Harry stands up, gathering the notes off the table, stuffing them in his robes. “Fair enough. We’ll let you know if we figure anything out,” he says cheekily.

Ron follows him closely, already buzzing with excitement at the thought of a mystery that isn’t life or death—and his enthusiasm seems to bleed over to Hermione, who rolls her eyes affectionately and gathers her things, too.

“Well, if you want to solve anything, you need some kind of plan,” she laughs. “I suppose I’ll help, too.”

The group eventually disperses, with Ron and Hermione bickering all the way out, fighting over how to start the investigation, and Harry following close behind.

I start gathering my things, assuming Draco will take his leave too, but he lingers, standing awkwardly near the door.

When I glance up at him, I notice something unusual—he looks nervous. Almost boyishly so.

“Draco?” I ask, raising a brow. “You okay?”

He shifts on his feet, avoiding my eyes for a beat before finally reaching into his robes and pulling out a red rose and a folded piece of parchment.

“I—uh—wanted to give you this before the others started turning it into a full investigation,” he says quietly, holding out the rose and note. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of those public serenades, and I thought this might be… less embarrassing.”

I stare at him, watching him avoid my eyes.

I take the note and rose out of his hand, noticing the rose is enchanted to shimmer and shine, much like the ones his mother grows outside of their manor. The note is short and sweet: “You deserve something that’s just for you—not part of a spectacle. Save a dance for me.”

I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. For all his snark and sarcasm, Draco Malfoy can be surprisingly thoughtful.

And just like that, I’m completely swooning.

He takes a deep breath and continues. “Would you—would you go to the Cupid’s Ball with me?” His voice is soft but steady, and despite the confidence he’s known for, there’s an underlying vulnerability in the way he asks.

For a second, I’m speechless. After everything we’ve been through recently, all the fights and terrible things we’ve discovered, he still wants to do things like this with me. Despite everything, he still cares for me in this way, and he knows me so well that he chose to make this intimate and private.

Merlin, I definitely still fancy him.

He fidgets, mistaking my silence for rejection. “It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“Yes,” I interrupt, smiling. “I’d love to.”

His eyes snap back to mine, and for a split second, his usual smug mask slips away, replaced with genuine relief—and something that looks a lot like excitement.

He nods, a small smirk returning to his lips. “Brilliant. Whatever color you choose to wear, let me know. I’ll coordinate it with my tie and your corsage.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he says almost too quickly, cutting me off. He takes a second to compose himself again. “I just mean… I missed my chance at the Yule Ball. I won’t make that mistake again.”

I blink, startled at his unexpected confession.

So he really had wanted to take me to the Yule Ball, he just never actually asked. I don’t know what gave him the courage this time—considering we’re considerably more at odds than we were around Christmastime—but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been ignoring my admirers hoping he’d ask me.

I pull him into a hug, standing on my toes to wrap my arms fully around his neck. “Thank you. I can’t wait.”

He holds me tightly, and I can feel his heart racing just as much as my own against my chest. He always acts so arrogant, but I’ve always known it was a façade. Honestly, I find the more timid, nervous side of him quite endearing.

When I pull away after a moment, he still seems nervous, but a goofy grin is plastered across his face. “Wait till Pansy sees us. She’s going to flip.”

I chuckle, my cheeks pink. “Most of the school will, too, probably. I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumors, but apparently we just broke off our engagement a few weeks ago.”

“Did we now?” He asks, feigning confusion as he puts a hand over his chest. “I must have forgotten about that. And the proposal. And us dating in the first place.”

For the first time in a long while, I laugh—really laugh—hard enough that I have to hold onto my sides because they hurt. “Merlin, sometimes I forget how funny you can be.”

Draco’s eyes light up at my laughter, his grin widening. “I’ll take that as a compliment. It’s not every day I get you to laugh like that.”

Still catching my breath, I shake my head. “Speaking of… did you want to be? Dating, I mean.” I glance down, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “Because we haven’t really talked about it since everything that happened at the manor, and when we fought before I got inundated, I—well, I said a lot of things I didn’t mean.”

He freezes, his eyes searching mine carefully. “You… want to date me?”

“I’ve wanted to,” I admit, shifting nervously. “I just didn’t want to label it at first because I was scared it could be used against us, but I think that’s too far gone now. Then I never brought it up again because I didn’t know if you could even consider it after… everything.”

His lips part slightly, and for a second, he doesn’t respond, as if he’s carefully choosing his next words. Then, his hand brushes gently over mine.

“I never stopped wanting to,” he says quietly. “Even when we fought. Even when you scared me off with those… very intense arguments.”

I wince. “Be honest. How bad was it?”

He rubs his free hand over the back of his neck, searching for words. “Let’s just say I thought you were going to find a way to break the bond just so you could hex me blind.”

I look away, feeling guilty. “I am sorry about that. All of it. Me. I haven’t been a good friend or honestly a very fun person to be around in general.”

He shakes his head, letting go of my hand to hold both sides of my face. “You had a lot going on. Besides, you weren’t wrong. I should have asked you if I could talk to the trio about what happened. Or at least warned you I was going to. You were completely justified in being upset with me. I was just so caught up in everything else I didn’t stop and think about how it would affect you.”

“You did your best with a really terrible hand,” I say softly. “I realize that now. I’ve had enough time to sit on it and really think about everything, and you and I have had enough time to get back to normal—or whatever our normal is, anyway.”

He chuckles softly, his thumb gently moving back and forth on my cheek. “It didn’t change anything. If anything, it made me realize how much I care about you. No one else can drive me mad and still be the person I want around the most.”

“That’s exactly how I felt,” I reply. “It’s kind of scary, isn’t it?”

“Terrifying,” he agrees with a small smile. “But for you? It’s absolutely worth it.”

My chest floods with a warmth unlike any other, and I can feel the expression I’m giving him. One that’s been tucked away for a while in lieu of all the chaos around us.

I’m looking at him like he puts all the stars in the sky, and if I stare long enough, I could surely convince myself that he did.

Draco notices it immediately, of course, and he sees his opportunity to make me completely weak in the knees. He pulls me in and presses his lips to mine, kissing me in the way only he can, making me reconsider if I’ve ever cared for anyone else in my entire life.

He keeps one hand on my face, the other tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before trailing down to my waist and pulling me closer, flush against his body. I can feel his smile against my lips, and I could swear the world has stopped spinning for just this moment in time.

I have to stop my knees from buckling when he finally pulls away, planting one last kiss on my forehead.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst. “So… we’re doing this? Properly this time?”

He nods, his smirk softer than usual. “Properly. No rumors, no misunderstandings, no dramatic hexing.”

I grin. “I make no promises about the hexing.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Fair enough. But you’re stuck with me now. No backing out.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Does this make you my…?”

“Boyfriend?” He finishes for me, tilting his head in a puppy-like manner. “I think it does. And that means you’re—”

I cut him off with a quick peck on his cheek. “I’m your girlfriend.”

And just like that, the tension melts away, replaced with something lighter—something real.

He holds out his arm with a dramatic flourish. “Shall we go announce our engagement to the rest of the castle, then?”

I roll my eyes but loop my arm through his. “Let’s start with the ball, Dray. One step at a time.”

I can already imagine the chaos this is going to cause. But for once, I don’t care.

How could I?

And this may backfire terribly, it may end in disaster, or worse—but the whole middle part is going to be amazing.