The Pact

I blink, my vision blurry as I try to focus on my surroundings. A harsh smell, white walls, hurried footsteps up and down the corridor just outside the door. I try to swallow, but my mouth is impossibly dry.

And my head—Merlin, my head is pounding like never before. My entire body aches, like I just got run over by the Knight bus.

My fingers wiggle at my sides and I feel the sheets I’m laying on. They’re rough and cold, nothing like my bed.

When my vision adjusts, I read a poster on the wall about yearly checkups and potions for health maintenance. In the bottom corner is a logo.

St. Mungo’s. I’m in the hospital.

“Oh—you’re awake.”

I turn my head, following the sound of the voice. Soft and feminine, impossibly controlled.

“Cissa?” I croak out, albeit with great difficulty.

She gives me a sad smile and lifts a glass of water to my lips, helping me drink. The water is grounding and refreshing, making my throat hurt a little less.

She puts the glass back down, then takes my hand in hers. “How are you feeling, dear?”

“Awful,” I reply quietly, squeezing her hand for reassurance. “Everything hurts.”

Narcissa nods, as if she was anticipating my answer. “That’s to be expected. I’ll call a healer in to get you something for the pain.”

“No,” I say quickly, gripping her hand tighter. “Please. Stay.”

She looks to the door as if considering going anyway, but she settles back into her chair beside my bed, not letting go. A small act of kindness, of mercy.

All of a sudden, it hits me—fragmented memories flood back, threatening to unravel me.

The battle, the chaos, Dumbledore—was that real?—the Conseil, Catherine healing me. The smell of something burning, screams and crackling curses, my father—holy shit, my father.

Speaking of my father—

“Where’s mum?” I ask, shooting up and immediately regretting it at the pain that rips through my body.

Narcissa gently coaxes me back down. “She’s here. Being treated.”

I blink. “Treated?”

She sighs, smoothing my hair down. “In the aftermath, when Death Eaters were trying to escape and the aurors were trying to catch them, Grace got caught in the crossfire. She’s in critical condition.”

A gasp lodges itself in my throat, and my lip starts to quiver as more flashes come back to me. The Hall of Prophecies, a curse whizzing just past my ear, the singe of my robes as I’m almost nicked. My mothers shriek when my father went down, Narcissa’s when—

“And Lucius? Is he okay? What happened?” I demand, voice quivering.

Narcissa’s lips tighten into a thin line, and I can see the worry etched into her features. She looks tired—worn.

“You know about the blood pact, yes?”

I nod, and she presses on, slowly. “Well… the magic of a blood pact can manifest itself in numerous ways. There’s a balance that has to be maintained, one could say. So when your father… well,” she trails off, as if afraid to bring it up.

“No, it’s okay,” I whisper, blinking back tears. “I remember.”

Narcissa smooths my hair down again before continuing her train of thought. “Lucius was Castor’s counterpart, in a way. So when your father went down, Lucius was affected, too. He’s in critical condition. Has been for a while.”

“A while?” I question, looking at the clock. “Like, a few hours a while?”

Narcissa quirks a brow, seeming confused before realization flickers across her face.

“What?”

“Y/n,” she says softly, moving closer. “You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

I freeze, taken aback. “Three—what? Bloody hell.”

A new wave of memories smacks me at full force. Harry beside me, holding Dumbledores wand, Voldemort turning to ash, my mother and Narcissa catching me, Draco’s face when I—

Oh, fuck.

My stomach twists and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

I remember all of it. His face, the betrayal, the pleading, our last kiss.

And he doesn’t remember I exist.

“Y/n?” Narcissa coos, seeming worried. “What’s wrong?”

Without warning, tears start to stream down my face, my entire body wracked with sobs. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur, though I’m not even sure if it’s to her. “Draco—he wouldn’t stop. He kept trying to… to follow me. I had to—fuck, Merlin, I’m so sorry, Cissa. I’m sorry. There was no time, I had no other way, it’s all my fault. I’m… I’m such a terrible person. I can’t believe—I should’ve had a plan. A better plan. I knew better—I knew what would happen! But I had no other choice, I had to, I—”

“Shh, shh, I know,” she murmurs, pulling me to her chest. “I know. Your friends told me.”

I cry into her shoulder, helpless and limp. “Did—I mean, is everyone—”

“They’re all okay, your friends are safe,” she says softly, rubbing my back. “Thanks to you.”

It doesn’t feel like I saved anyone.

The guilt is suffocating, clawing up my throat and making it hard to breathe. My fingers clutch at Narcissa’s robes as though she’s the only thing keeping me from shattering completely. I want to take it back—to undo what I’ve done—but the damage is irreversible. Draco is gone.

Not in body, not in life, but in memory.

And I did that.

“I should’ve found another way,” I whisper against her shoulder, my voice breaking. “I should’ve—”

“But you couldn’t,” Narcissa cuts in gently, pulling back just enough to cup my face. Her touch is warm, steady. “You made a choice. One that you believed would save him.”

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut against the fresh wave of tears. “He’s going to hate me if—when—he finds out.”

Narcissa exhales, thumb brushing against my cheek in a rare show of tenderness. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he’ll understand, in time.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she hushes me with a quiet, knowing look.

“You are not a terrible person, Y/n,” she says firmly, smoothing my hair once more. “I refuse to let you believe that.”

I hiccup, trying to steady my breathing. But it’s hard when the world feels so irreparably broken.

“He doesn’t even know me anymore,” I murmur.

Narcissa’s fingers still for half a second before she resumes stroking my hair. “That may be true,” she says carefully. “But memory is a strange thing, my dear. And my son is… stubborn.”

I let out a watery, humorless laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

She actually smiles, though it’s tinged with exhaustion. “Indeed.”

A soft knock at the door makes us both turn. A healer stands just outside, hesitant but professional.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” she says with a polite nod, then looks at me. “Miss Lavigné, how are you feeling?”

I don’t even know how to begin answering that.

Narcissa gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before pulling away. “I’ll let them take a look at you,” she says, smoothing her dress as she stands. “But I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” I say quickly, my voice almost frantic. She stops, looking at me expectantly. “Do you—do you know where he is?”

Draco.

Her expression flickers, just for a second. “At the Manor,” she answers softly. “Resting.”

The words feel like a knife to the gut. “Right,” I murmur. “Of course.”

She hesitates before speaking again. “I won’t tell him. Not yet.”

I look up, startled.

“I assume you want to be the one,” she explains, tilting her head. “When you’re ready.”

My throat tightens, and I nod, grateful.

Because even though I don’t know how, or when, I do know one thing.

I have to fix this.

The healer steps in, closing the door behind her. She has long, silky blonde hair that sways as she walks, her white robes crisp and neat.

“Went through quite a nasty spell,” she says softly, offering me a smile. “How’s your pain?”

I shake my head as she steps closer. “Pretty intense. I’m really sore, I guess. Achey. Head is pounding, too.”

She nods, pulling out her wand to run some diagnostics. “I’ll note that in your chart, Miss Lavigné.”

“It’s Y/n,” I say meekly. “Please, call me Y/n.”

The healer nods, casting another spell. “Alright, Y/n. My name is Amelia. I’ve been the primary healer on your case since you were brought in.”

Amelia waves her wand again, and a faint golden glow passes over my body, settling briefly over my chest before flickering out. She hums thoughtfully, tapping the end of her wand against her palm.

“You’re suffering from severe magical exhaustion,” she explains. “Your reserves were completely depleted—practically burned through, really. That’s why you’ve been unconscious for so long. Your body shut down to force a reset.”

I frown, shifting slightly. Even that small movement makes my limbs throb. “Is that… normal?”

Amelia’s lips press into a thin line. “For the average witch or wizard? No. But considering your magical lineage and the nature of your abilities, it’s not unexpected.”

I know what she’s implying—my mother’s side. Her dark, tangled history.

“What does that mean, exactly?” I ask warily.

“It means,” Amelia starts, writing something down, “that you pushed yourself far beyond what your core could handle. Wandless magic is already incredibly demanding, but to sustain it as rigorously as you did—” she exhales, shaking her head. “Your body simply couldn’t keep up. The good news is that, with rest and proper care, your magic should naturally restore itself over time.”

I can hear the but before she even says it.

“However,” Amelia continues, clasping her hands together, “given your family’s magical history, there is an alternative method that may expedite your recovery.”

I glance at Narcissa, who glides back in the room, monitoring me closely for any signs of distress. “Go on,” I say slowly.

Amelia hesitates just a fraction before pressing on. “There’s a ritual,” she explains. “Not commonly practiced, but effective. It’s designed to replenish and fortify magical reserves, particularly in cases where traditional potions and rest are insufficient.”

I know what she’s not saying. A ritual like that—one strong enough to pull magic back from the brink—wouldn’t be light magic.

Dark magic, then.

Narcissa exhales softly. “You’re speaking of Revivisco Magicae, aren’t you?”

Amelia nods. “I am. It’s a deep-rooted practice among certain wizarding families—yours included, Y/n. I wouldn’t normally suggest it, but given the circumstances, it may be the best course of action.”

My pulse quickens. I’m no stranger to dark magic, not with my mother’s blood running through my veins. But this—it’s something different. Something ancient.

“What would it entail?” I ask, my voice quiet but steady.

Amelia’s expression is neutral, but I don’t miss the way her gaze sharpens, assessing. “The ritual would require a conduit—an object tied to your magical essence. Blood magic is typically involved, though in controlled amounts. And most importantly, it must be performed in a place of significance to your family’s lineage.”

My mouth is dry again. A place of significance. There’s only one that comes to mind.

My grandmother’s estate.

I swallow hard, shifting my grip on the sheets. “And if I don’t do it?”

“You’ll recover,” Amelia assures me. “But it will take longer. Possibly weeks, maybe even months before your magic fully stabilizes.”

Months. I don’t have months. Not with everything that’s happened. Not with the war’s aftermath still unfolding, with my mother injured, my father gone, and Draco—

My breath shudders. I need to be at full strength.

I look at Narcissa again. She says nothing, but her silence speaks volumes. This is my decision.

Slowly, I exhale, my mind already turning.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Amelia tucks her wand away, giving me a tight smile. “Wonderful. I’ll leave you to rest now. If you’re feeling up to walking in a few hours, you’re free to be discharged today.”

I nod gratefully as she walks out of the room, leaving me and Narcissa in silence.

“Thank you,” I mumble softly, turning to face her. “For staying with me. I’m sure you’d rather be with Draco or Lucius right now.”

She shakes her head, humming thoughtfully. “I just came from Lucius’ room. He’s awake and good as new. Ready to go home today, same as you.”

My shoulders sag in relief. “That’s… amazing to hear, actually.”

Narcissa nods, before her face turns a touch more serious—in a stern, maternal way. “Listen. Lucius and I have been talking, and since your mother is still incapacitated and your father is… gone,” she says softly, “you’d be going home to an empty manor.”

I stare at her, my chest tightening. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead—hadn’t let myself. The idea of returning to the Lavigné estate alone, with no one there but the ghosts of everything I’ve lost, sends a hollow ache through my ribs.

Narcissa continues, her voice softer now. “We don’t want that for you. You shouldn’t have to recover alone, not after everything you’ve been through.” She reaches for my hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We would like for you to come and stay at the manor. With us.”

I blink, stunned. “I—Cissa, I couldn’t possibly—”

“Yes, you could,” she interrupts, a hint of amusement dancing at the edges of her tired eyes. “You saved my family, Y/n. You saved me. You are like a daughter to me, and I would be honored to have you in my home while you heal.”

My throat tightens. The Malfoy Manor. The same place I had once been forced to perform, to duel, to entertain Death Eaters like a showpiece for my parents’ twisted alliances. The same place that had felt so suffocating, so cold.

And yet… I think of Draco’s cat curling up in my lap. Of flour dusting his robes while we baked. Of the quiet moment in the dead of night, his body trembling as I held him through his nightmare. Of exchanging gifts with him and Narcissa—then him stealing all of my gingerbread cookies after.

It doesn’t feel as terrifying as it once did.

I swallow hard. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose, especially with everything going on.”

She shakes her head, a small, knowing smile on her lips. “You could never be an imposition, dear.”

My lips part, but no words come out. Instead, I just nod, overwhelmed with emotion, and squeeze her hand back.

“I’d like that,” I whisper.

Narcissa smiles, smoothing my hair down once more, like she’s done since the moment I woke up. A touch so gentle, so unlike my own mother’s.

“Good,” she says softly. “Then it’s settled.”

~

The grand doors of Malfoy Manor swing open, revealing the marble foyer that gleams under the low glow of enchanted chandeliers. The air is cool, carrying the faint scent of polished wood and something floral—something familiar. I exhale slowly, gripping the handle of my overnight bag a little tighter.

Narcissa steps in first, Lucius beside her, his cane tapping lightly against the marble. I follow, my steps tentative despite how many times I’ve been here before. But this time is different. This time, I am living here.

I don’t have much time to dwell on that thought before footsteps echo from the grand staircase. I look up just as Draco appears at the top landing. His platinum hair is slightly disheveled, like he’s just woken up from a nap, and his sharp grey eyes immediately find his parents.

“Mother,” he greets, voice smooth but carrying a note of relief. His gaze flicks to Lucius, scanning him as if checking for any lingering signs of injury. “Father.”

Lucius gives him a nod. “Draco.”

Draco descends the stairs in long, confident strides, stopping just before them. His eyes soften slightly as he looks at his mother. “You’re alright?”

Narcissa smiles gently, reaching out to brush a hand over his cheek. “I am, darling.”

Then, finally, his gaze drifts past them—to me.

I brace myself.

His expression remains impassive, unreadable, as his eyes scan my face, taking in every detail as if committing them to memory for the first time. His brow furrows slightly, lips parting like he might say something, but no words come.

He doesn’t know me.

It takes everything in me not to visibly recoil at the realization.

Narcissa, ever the graceful presence, steps in smoothly. “Draco, dear, I’d like to formally introduce you to your… fiancée.”

Draco’s head tilts slightly, and for the briefest second, his mask of indifference falters.

“My what?”

Lucius steps forward, his tone leaving no room for debate. “This arrangement has been in place for quite some time. Her parents are unable to care for her at the moment, so she will be staying with us for a while.”

Draco doesn’t react right away. He simply looks at me again, expression unreadable. Then, without any real emotion, he nods once and turns back to his father.

“As you wish.”

That’s it. No arguments, no protests—just cold acceptance.

Something in my chest tightens painfully.

Draco extends his hand, a simple formality. “Nice to meet you. Draco Malfoy. And… you are?”

I take his hand gingerly, reveling in the feeling of his warmth before he quickly drops it. I swallow thickly. “Y/n Lavigné. I’m charmed.”

“Lavigné?” he echoes, something thoughtful on his face. “Have… we met before?”

A spark of hope ignites in my chest. Maybe he does remember.

“I… think we share some classes,” is all I say, afraid to spook him.

Draco still looks slightly confused, as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle, before something flickers in his eyes. He snaps his fingers. “That’s why I recognize your name. You’re the new transfer from Beauxbatons.”

The hope fizzles out almost as quickly as it came. I force a small smile, nodding. “Yeah. That’s me.”

Draco hums, something unreadable flashing across his face before it disappears behind that same impassive mask. “Right.” He shifts his weight slightly before turning back toward the stairs. “Well, welcome, I suppose.”

That’s it. No warmth, no curiosity—just polite indifference.

I can feel Narcissa watching me, her expression soft with sympathy, and even Lucius gives me a brief glance before clearing his throat.

“We’ll have dinner at seven,” Lucius states as Draco moves toward the staircase. “I expect you to attend.”

Draco stops for a second, looking over his shoulder. His gaze flicks to me again—just a brief moment of something I can’t place—before he nods. “Of course.”

And then he’s gone, ascending the stairs without another word.

The silence that follows is heavy, suffocating. I let out a breath, my shoulders sagging ever so slightly. It feels like we’re back to square one, only this time, there’s no history between us. No rivalry, no tension, no bond. Just… nothing.

A stranger in the same house as the boy I—

I swallow hard, pushing that thought away before it can fully form.

Narcissa reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. “Give him time,” she murmurs. “This is a lot to take in.”

I nod mutely, though I don’t trust myself to speak.

Lucius clears his throat again, glancing between us before clasping his hands behind his back. “The elves have prepared your room. It’s next to Draco’s, should you need anything.”

Of course it is.

I offer a polite nod, my voice steadier than I feel. “Thank you.”

Narcissa gives me another soft smile. “Why don’t I show you to your room?”

I nod again, following her up the stairs, my feet feeling heavier with every step.

This was supposed to be home for now. A place to heal, to recover.

But with the way Draco looked at me—like I was nothing more than a stranger—

It hurts more than anything else.

~

Two days into my stay at Malfoy Manor, Dobby pops into my room with a snap. “Miss, master Malfoy would like to speak with you downstairs.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” I reply with a small smile, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed. “Would you mind helping me get ready? It’s a bit… difficult, at the moment.”

Dobby’s ears perk up, his bright green eyes widening with enthusiasm. “Oh! Of course, Miss! Dobby is always happy to help Miss Lavigné!”

I smile softly as he scurries to my wardrobe, pulling out a neatly pressed blouse and a comfortable skirt. “You don’t have to call me that, you know,” I say gently. “Just Y/n is fine.”

Dobby’s ears wiggle as he shakes his head. “Oh, no, no, no! Miss Lavigné is a great and noble witch! She saved the wizarding world, she did! Dobby knows what Miss did, yes he does.”

I freeze slightly, my fingers stilling against the fabric of the skirt he hands me. “You… you know?”

Dobby nods enthusiastically, his little hands clasped together. “Oh yes, Miss! Dobby hears things, sees things! Dobby knows Miss gave up much to protect others. Even Master Draco. Dobby is most grateful—most proud!”

My throat tightens, emotion welling up before I can stop it. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Thank you, Dobby,” I murmur. “That… that means a lot.”

Dobby beams, his chest puffing up with pride as he helps fasten the buttons on my blouse, ensuring everything is perfect. “Dobby will always help Miss Lavigné! She is kind, she is good—she deserves much kindness in return.”

I swallow hard, nodding as I blink away the sudden sting in my eyes. “I think I’m all set now.”

Dobby steps back, his grin wide. “Miss looks wonderful! Master Draco will see, yes he will!”

I huff a small laugh, shaking my head. “We’ll see about that.”

Dobby’s ears twitch, but he simply bows his head. “Dobby will be nearby if Miss needs anything!”

And with that, he vanishes with a soft pop, leaving me to collect myself before heading downstairs to find out what Lucius wants.

Five days ago, I would have just apparated down. But with my magic so depleted and strained, I have to take the stairs. The good old fashioned way.

I wind through the manor slowly until I reach Lucius’ study, surprised to see the door open already. Lucius is sat at his desk, squinting at a parchment, but looks up when I knock on the door frame.

“Ah, Y/n,” Lucius says smoothly, setting the parchment aside. “Come in.”

I step into the study, the scent of parchment, ink, and aged wood filling the air. The fire crackles gently in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the polished floors.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask, folding my hands in front of me.

Lucius gestures toward the chair across from him. “Sit.”

I do as he asks, feeling the weight of his gaze as he studies me. His expression is unreadable—calculated, as always—but there’s something almost… expectant in his eyes.

“I’ve been corresponding with your grandmother, Catherine, and with your primary healer,” he finally says, leaning back in his chair. “Catherine is aware of your… condition.”

I tense slightly. “My condition?”

“Your magic,” he clarifies. “Its depletion.”

I exhale through my nose, shifting in my seat. “Right.”

Lucius steeples his fingers. “She has prepared her estate in the Loire Valley for the ritual that will help restore your strength.”

The words settle over me like a heavy cloak. Lucius has been going out of his way to talk to the adults in my life to help me. And I can’t think of a single thing he has to gain from it.

Lucius watches me carefully. “You will leave in two days’ time. Narcissa has arranged appropriate attire for the journey. You’ll stay at your grandmother’s manor for as long as necessary.”

I nod slowly, absorbing the information. “And Draco?” I ask hesitantly. “Will he be coming?”

Lucius tilts his head slightly, considering. “That will be up to him.”

I try not to let the disappointment show. Of course, it would be.

Lucius leans forward slightly, his tone dipping into something more deliberate. “It might be best for you to attend alone. These sorts of rituals are intense. Raw. Maybe even a bit messy. Considering my son is—well, let’s just say not himself right now—I doubt his presence will be of any use to you.”

Something in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. I nod once. “I understand.”

Lucius studies me for another moment before waving a hand dismissively. “Good. That will be all.”

I stand, but before I leave, I hesitate. “Lucius?”

He raises a brow.

I take a breath. “Thank you. For arranging this.”

A flicker of something—approval, perhaps—crosses his face before it’s gone. He simply inclines his head. “You are family now.”

The words shouldn’t mean anything. They shouldn’t make my chest ache. But they do.

I nod once more and step out of the study, my mind already racing. My mother is still in the hospital—I haven’t heard from my friends. The Conseil probably needs me, but I can’t make it to a meeting or even all the way to the floo without feeling a bit dizzy.

And Draco.

Every time he passes me, his face emotionless, passive, something inside of me breaks.

I miss him. My Draco.

The weight of it all crashes over me the moment I’m alone.

I barely register my feet carrying me down the dimly lit hallways until I find myself in the library. It’s quiet here, safe. The scent of parchment and aged leather wraps around me like a familiar embrace, and before I can stop myself, I sink onto the velvet chaise near the fireplace.

Tears slip down my cheeks before I can even think to stop them. I curl in on myself, pressing my forehead to my knees, willing the ache in my chest to disappear.

It doesn’t.

A soft creak of the door makes me stiffen. I don’t lift my head, but I hear footsteps—slow, measured.

Then, a voice.

“What the hell are you crying about?”

I swallow hard, hastily wiping at my face before looking up. Draco stands near the entrance, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His sharp gaze flicks over me, assessing.

I grit my teeth, trying to pull myself together. “Go away.”

His brow furrows slightly. “You’ve been here for two days and now you’re sulking in the library. What’s your problem?”

I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “Nothing. Just leave me alone.”

Draco doesn’t move. He just watches me, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

I turn my face away. “Piss off, Malfoy.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I feel it.

A shift.

Draco’s posture stiffens, his breath catches—just for a moment. His eyes flicker, a flash of something I can’t quite place. Recognition. Deja vu.

His lips part slightly, and he blinks, like something is tugging at the edges of his mind. “What… did you just say?”

I clench my jaw. The healers warned me—trying to force his memory, trying to undo the curse too quickly, could make it worse. Could make it permanent. All because of me and my stupid dark magic—convoluting everything I touch, turning even the most basic spells into something more complicated to unravel.

I can’t risk it.

“Nothing,” I mumble, pushing myself up from the couch. My legs wobble slightly, but I steady myself. “Forget it.”

Draco doesn’t move. He just keeps staring at me, brow furrowed. Like he knows there’s something to remember—he just doesn’t know what.

I push past him before he can say anything else, my heart hammering in my chest.

Because for the first time since all of this started…

I think he felt something.

The healers hadn’t mentioned this was even a possibility. Narcissa’s words ring in my mind: Memory is a strange thing. And my son is… stubborn.

I really, really hope she’s right.

Draco keeps his distance after that, not initiating any kind of conversation or even eye contact. Like I’m not even there—like he sees right through me.

But I see it happen again and again—that confused look, like he’s wracking his mind for something, like he’s got déjà vu.

I see it when Hades curls up in my lap in the sitting room. And again when I tie my hair up then stick my wand through it.

He studies me while I read, a cup of tea in my hand. His gaze lingers when he catches me tucking  away my vials of sleeping draught in my bag. But he never acts on it—never says anything or questions it. Just shrugs it off like he can’t even figure out why he’s thinking about it.

When the day comes to go to my grandmother’s estate, I decide to take Lucius’ advice and go alone. Draco doesn’t recognize me right now, and him being there will do nothing but distract me.

Well—not entirely alone.

Dobby beams as he tightens the straps on my traveling bag, his large green eyes shining with excitement. “Miss will not be alone! Dobby is honored to go with Miss to the Lady Catherine’s estate!”

I can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, though my nerves twist in my stomach. “Thank you, Dobby. I… I appreciate it.”

Lucius and Narcissa stand nearby, both composed but watchful. Narcissa reaches out, brushing a stray piece of lint from my sleeve with a gentleness that makes my throat tighten. “Your grandmother has made all the necessary preparations,” she says. “She’ll ensure the ritual is done properly.”

Lucius nods in agreement. “It’s a rare opportunity to restore your strength through means befitting your lineage. Don’t squander it.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Yes, sir.”

He regards me for a long moment before inclining his head. “Dobby will bring you back when it’s done. We’ll be expecting you.”

I glance toward the staircase, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of Draco, but there’s nothing. The halls remain silent. He hasn’t come to see me off.

I swallow my disappointment and straighten my shoulders. “Alright,” I say, turning to Dobby. “Let’s go.”

With a snap of his fingers, the world disappears in a rush of air, leaving Malfoy Manor behind.