The Pact

The end of the school year is creeping closer. I can feel it in the air—the way the days grow warmer, the way students whisper excitedly about summer plans, the way exams loom over us like an inevitable storm.

For most, it’s a relief. A chance to escape, to breathe, to rest.

For me? It’s something else entirely.

It means months spent navigating my new situation, avoiding my mother, and trying to figure out my next move. And it means time away from him.

Draco and I have been locked in this quiet, unresolved mess for weeks now. He’s mad at me, I know that much. He still refuses to look at me, still acts like I don’t exist unless he’s cornering me in hallways to remind me that I should stay out of his life.

And yet… I can’t bring myself to leave things like this.

So, without him knowing, I start to fix things.

Small things. Barely noticeable things. Things that wouldn’t point back to me but would make his life easier, even if just for a moment.

When his quill snaps in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I quietly swap it out for a new one before he can even notice.

When his Potions ingredients mysteriously go missing—courtesy of Theo, no doubt—I make sure replacements find their way into his bag.

When he nearly misses a deadline for a History of Magic essay, I leave a subtle charm on his books so they open directly to the information he needs.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t need to know.

I don’t do it for gratitude.

I just don’t want to walk away from this year knowing that the last thing I left between us was silence and anger.

He doesn’t ever seem to notice—actually, I think he’s doing everything in his power to pointedly not notice me. But my other friends do. Hannah just shakes her head, the trio question me daily about why I’d help him knowing how he’s been treating me, and sometimes even his slytherin friends catch me—but there seems to be a silent agreement between us that they won’t tell him.

I almost think I’m in the clear until Pansy calls my attention in Transfiguration one day.

“Hey, Chosen One,” she spits, jabbing the back of her quill into my shoulder blade.

I roll my eyes and turn around. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, would you prefer Puff Princess or Snake Charmer, then?” she asks, her tone mock sweet.

“What do you want, Pansy?” I sigh, not engaging. “If you’re going to hex me, just do it. You’ve been glaring daggers at me for weeks.”

She narrows her eyes in contempt. “If I wanted to hex you, I would’ve by now.”

“Right,” I deadpan, looking down at her wand. “What, then?”

Pansy grins mischievously. “You owe me a favor.”

I quirk a brow. “Since when?”

“Since you stuck me to the floor and erased my best friend’s memory,” she says bitterly, crossing her arms. “Or did you forget about that little incident?”

I clench my jaw, meeting her gaze. “How could I when you lot are constantly reminding me of it?”

Pansy smirks, clearly pleased that she’s gotten under my skin. “Good. Then you can pay me back by coming to my party this weekend.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She leans forward, twirling her quill between her fingers. “I’m hosting a party at my Manor, and I need you there.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “And why, exactly, would I ever agree to that?”

“Because,” she says, her smirk widening, “you’re famous, darling.”

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. Ever since you—” she lowers her voice mockingly, “—defeated the Dark Lord—people can’t get enough of you. You’re practically a legend.”

I scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” She tilts her head. “Because the way I see it, if people know you are attending, more people will show up. And the more people that show up, the bigger and better my party becomes.” She leans back, inspecting her nails. “So, like I said, you owe me. And I’m cashing in.”

I stare at her for a long moment, half in disbelief, half in annoyance.

She has got to be joking.

But the smug glint in her eyes tells me she isn’t.

“Let me get this straight,” I say slowly, turning back to Pansy. “You want me to come to your party. To help you boost attendance.”

“Exactly.”

“And what happens if I say no?”

Pansy shrugs. “Well, I suppose I could start telling Draco about all the little ways you’ve been playing guardian angel for him lately.” Her smirk sharpens. “I’m sure he’d love to hear about that.”

I exhale through my nose, jaw tightening. “That’s blackmail.”

“Call it what you want.” She grins. “But I expect to see you there.”

I don’t answer.

Pansy just pats my arm condescendingly and turns back to her notes, acting as if the conversation is already settled.

“Can I bring someone?” I ask quickly, causing her to look up.

“Bring as many people as you’d like. But fair warning—it’s going to be a snake pit,” she smirks, looking back down.

I know I should tell her to shove it. That I don’t owe her anything. That I couldn’t care less about her stupid party.

But the thought of Draco finding out—of him realizing that, despite everything, I never really stopped caring—

…Yeah.

I don’t have a choice.

Fine. If I have to go, I might as well make it worth my while.

The moment class ends, I grab Hannah’s arm and drag her toward the Great Hall.

“You look like you’re about to commit murder,” she observes.

“Not murder,” I mutter. “Just… something equally unwise.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

I exhale, scanning the hall until I spot the messy head of hair I’m looking for. “Potter!”

Harry turns at the sound of his name, brows furrowing as I approach. “What—?”

“I need you to come to a Slytherin party with me,” I say, cutting straight to the point.

He blinks. “I—what?”

Hannah barely contains her laughter. “Oh, this is good.”

I cross my arms. “Pansy’s throwing some big end-of-year thing at her manor, and I need backup.”

Harry looks at me like I’ve gone mad. “And you’re asking me?”

“Yes.”

He still looks confused, but there’s something else there, too—like he’s starting to piece it together. “You’re doing this to get under Malfoy’s skin, aren’t you?”

I shrug, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hannah cackles.

Harry sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin, this is going to be a disaster.”

“That’s the spirit,” I say cheerfully, patting his arm.

I don’t give him a chance to argue before turning on my heel and heading for my next target.

Hannah and I find an empty corridor and I pull out my latest gift from Aury—a two way mirror. I say his name into it and when he appears, he grins as soon as he sees me.

“Ma belle, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

I roll my eyes but hide a smile. “How do you feel about crashing a Slytherin party?”

His grin widens. “Sounds positively exhilarating. Who’s the host?”

“Pansy Parkinson.”

His eyebrows lift. “And why, exactly, are we gracing this gathering with our presence?”

I smirk. “Because it’ll be fun.”

Aurélien studies me for a moment, then smirks back. “Mon dieu, you are so doing this to get a reaction out of your ex.”

Hannah, who has been watching the exchange like it’s her new favorite play, nearly doubles over laughing.

I raise a brow. “Are you in or not?”

Aurélien chuckles, brushing his curls out of his face. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“You’re the best,” I grin, kissing the mirror. “Talk to you later, yeah?”

“Talk to you soon, mon étoile,” he chuckles, kissing the mirror back. “Try not to miss me too much.”

With that, we both tuck our pieces away, and when I look at Hannah, she’s clutching her stomach.

Hannah gasps between laughter, wiping at her eyes. “Oh, this is so going to be a disaster.”

“It’s going to be fun.”

Hannah snorts. “It’s going to be something.”

We make our way toward the common room, but I can already feel the weight of what’s coming. It’s not just about Pansy’s stupid party. It’s about him. About whatever this game is that we’ve been playing since things fell apart.

I don’t know if I’m hoping to make peace or if I just want to see him squirm. Maybe both.

Either way, this is going to be very interesting.

~

“You look absolutely ravishing, mon étoile,” Aury tells me, leading me to the front door of Pansy’s manor. “Don’t you think so, Harry?”

Harry shifts his weight, preparing to knock. “Yeah, yeah. You look… pretty,” he says hesitantly, as if he’s afraid to speak at all.

“It’s just a party, Harry,” I try to comfort him. “Relax. You’re just going to mingle with some Slytherins, get back on their good side, and watch the chaos unfold.”

“Brilliant,” he mumbles, straightening his collar. “Just what I need. More drama.”

I nudge his shoulder. “Come on, you’re one of my best mates. This is, like, in your job description. Besides, I know you love pissing off Malfoy.”

He pauses, considering. “You’ve got me there.”

Aurélien chuckles, knocking on the door himself. “Enough hesitating. Let’s go in.”

After a moment the door creaks open, held by a house elf. “Please, come in,” she squeaks, bowing deeply.

“Thank you,” I say softly, walking in on Aurélien’s arm. “What’s your name?”

The little house elf straightens at my question, her large green eyes blinking up at me in surprise. “M-Mippy, miss,” she stammers, wringing her hands together.

I offer her a small smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mippy.”

Her ears wiggle slightly, as if she’s not sure what to do with the kindness, but she quickly bows again. “Mippy is honored, miss.”

Aurélien, ever the charmer, dips his head in a slight bow as well. “Enchanté, Mippy.”

Mippy lets out a tiny squeak and quickly steps aside, gesturing for us to enter further. “Miss Parkinson is in the main hall with her guests. Mippy will take you to her.”

As we follow Mippy through the grand corridors of Pansy’s manor, I can feel the weight of the party already pressing in—laughter, the clinking of glasses, the low hum of music. It’s a far cry from the tense atmosphere of Slytherin common room gatherings. This is high society. Expensive. Exclusive. And filled to the brim with people who would love nothing more than to pick apart my presence.

Perfect.

“Do we think Malfoy’s seen us yet?” Aurélien murmurs under his breath.

Harry snorts. “Oh, he’s seen us.”

I don’t need to turn around to check. The moment we stepped in, I felt it—a weight, a presence, a simmering kind of attention that I know, without a doubt, belongs to Draco Malfoy.

I smirk, adjusting the sleeve of my dress just slightly. Let him look.

Mippy finally leads us to the grand hall, where Pansy lounges on a velvet chaise, a drink in hand, surrounded by a small circle of Slytherins. Her eyes land on me immediately, and a slow, satisfied smirk spreads across her lips.

“Ah, there she is,” she purrs, setting her drink down. “And here I thought you might be too cowardly to show.”

I step forward smoothly, ignoring the way conversations lull as people take notice. “Pansy, darling,” I say, voice dripping with false sweetness. “Thank you so much for the invitation. Your home is lovely.”

Her smirk sharpens, eyes flickering over me, then to Aurélien and Harry at my sides. “I see you brought guests.”

I loop my arm through Aurélien’s and smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Pansy tilts her head, amusement clear in her expression. “Not at all. The more, the merrier.”

I can feel the tension already bubbling, the scrutiny, the flickers of interest and disapproval alike. And from somewhere to the right—standing near Blaise and Theo, jaw tight, arms crossed—Draco Malfoy watches in absolute silence.

I don’t look at him. Not yet.

Let the games begin.

“Theodore Nott,” Harry calls out from beside me, a falsely fond tone to his voice. “And Blaise Zabini. What are you two doing standing around with this kicked crup?” He gestures to Draco, then makes his way over to a very confused pair of snakes.

“What the hell?” Pansy asks quietly, looking at me as if for answers. “What’s Potter doing?”

I shrug. “Dunno. The boys have always gotten along since… well, you know,” I wink, twirling my wand and sticking it in my hair. “Saving the world tends to bring people together.”

Pansy squints at me, suspicion laced in her perfectly lined eyes. “Since when are you this cheeky?”

I merely smirk, offering her nothing but a mysterious glance before turning my attention to the rest of the room. From the corner of my eye, I see Draco scoff under his breath and turn on his heel, stalking off toward some shadowed corner of the manor. Typical.

Meanwhile, Harry is already weaving his way back into Theo and Blaise’s good graces, the three of them slipping into the rhythm of their usual banter like no time has passed. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but judging by Blaise’s smirk and the way Theo claps Harry on the shoulder in exasperation, it’s going well.

Phase one is already rolling.

It doesn’t take long before people start flocking toward me, eager to sink their teeth into the latest source of intrigue—my unexpected rise to power. I can hear the murmurs, the carefully veiled curiosity mixed with admiration and envy alike.

“How did you manage it, really?” “You must have connections we don’t know about.” “Will you be taking an official stance soon?” “Are you really on the French Ministry?”

I keep my expression composed, offering vague yet pleasant answers, carefully sidestepping anything too revealing. The attention is suffocating, but before it becomes overwhelming, Aurélien steps in, all easy charm and effortless confidence.

“Apologies, mes amis,” he cuts in smoothly, his hand finding the small of my back. “But if you’ll excuse us, I believe I owe ma belle a dance.”

There’s a flicker of disappointment among the crowd, but they don’t dare protest. Pansy, on the other hand, makes an amused sound, sipping her drink as if thoroughly entertained.

Aurélien barely gives me time to react before he’s leading me onto the dance floor, pulling me into an easy waltz. His grip is warm, steady, grounding in the best way.

“Figured you could use an escape,” he murmurs, eyes twinkling.

I exhale, the tension in my shoulders loosening slightly. “You always have impeccable timing.”

“Naturellement,” he teases. “Now, let’s make sure we give them something worth gossiping about, oui?”

I chuckle, allowing him to spin me effortlessly across the floor, my dress flaring with every movement. The room watches with rapt attention—Pansy’s delighted grin, the knowing glances exchanged between other Slytherins, the hushed whispers as people drink in the display.

And from across the room, standing stiffly in the dim lighting, Draco Malfoy watches.

Jaw tight. Hands clenched into fists. Eyes locked on us with an expression I can’t quite decipher.

I don’t look at him, I just smile up at Aury as if lovestruck. Like he’s the only boy in the room.

Dancing is acting, too—and now is my time to shine.

He leads me through a graceful waltz, never fumbling once. I expect nothing less from my best friend and dance partner of three years. He just gets me in a way no one else really can.

The song comes to an end, and Aurélien dips me low, his grip steady as my hair nearly brushes the floor. A few people whistle and clap, but all I hear is the sharp inhale from somewhere behind me—Draco.

Aury pulls me upright, smirking. “I’d say we’ve successfully stolen the spotlight.”

“Mission accomplished,” I breathe, smoothing down my dress. “Now, I need a drink.”

“Stay out of trouble, ma chérie,” he says, though there’s mischief in his eyes. He knows better than anyone that I thrive in it.

I weave through the crowd toward the drinks table, reaching for a glass of firewhiskey just as a voice drawls from behind me.

“Didn’t take you for the type to rebound so quickly.”

I turn, coming face to face with a tall Slytherin boy I vaguely recognize—probably a sixth or seventh year. His dark hair is neatly styled, his smirk self-assured. Not outright unpleasant, but cocky enough to be irritating.

“Didn’t take you for the type to care,” I reply smoothly, raising the glass to my lips.

He chuckles, leaning in slightly. “What can I say? Hard not to notice when someone like you suddenly becomes available. Everyone’s talking about it.”

I arch a brow, unimpressed. “How fascinating for them.”

“Can’t blame them, though,” he continues, undeterred. “You’re quite the sight tonight. And judging by the way Malfoy’s been staring, I’d say he agrees.”

I refuse to look, refuse to give Draco the satisfaction of knowing I care. Instead, I tilt my head, regarding the boy before me with an amused smile. “And you? Are you just here to deliver observations, or is there a point to this conversation?”

His smirk deepens. “Maybe I’m just wondering if you’re looking for a real distraction tonight. Someone who doesn’t come with all that baggage.”

I almost laugh. He’s bold, I’ll give him that. But he has no idea who he’s dealing with.

“Tempting,” I say, my tone dripping with mock consideration. Then, I lean in just enough to drop my voice. “But you’re going to have to work a little harder than that.”

He quirks a brow. “Is that so? Tell me then—what must a snake do to earn your attention, oh Chosen One?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, knowing I can use this to my advantage. “Don’t know. Be entertaining. Tell me a joke or something.”

He chuckles, clearly taking my feigned interest as encouragement. “Alright, let’s see…” He taps his chin theatrically, as if searching for the perfect joke. “Why did the Gryffindor bring a ladder to the bar?”

I hum, tilting my head. “Why?”

His grin turns smug. “Because they heard the drinks were on the house.”

I let out a high-pitched giggle, the kind that would make anyone who knows me do a double take. Then, for extra effect, I duck my head and cover my mouth as if I’m so charmed by his wit. When I peek up through my lashes, Draco is exactly where I expect him to be—still standing in the shadows, still watching, but now his expression has shifted into something dangerously close to fury.

Perfect.

“That was actually pretty good. I might steal that one,” I say with a lilt, barely biting on the edge of my nail to draw his attention to my mouth. It works.

The Slytherin boy takes my reaction as an open invitation, stepping in closer, his hand just barely grazing my waist. Before he can get any further, a firm arm snakes around my shoulders, pulling me flush against a very familiar chest.

“Aha, there you are, ma chérie.”

Aurélien.

His voice is all honeyed amusement, but the steel in his grip tells me he’s not letting this guy test his luck any further. “I leave you alone for two minutes and already you’re being swept away by some charmer?” He tuts playfully, but his arm tightens ever so slightly.

I blink up at him, putting on my best coy, wide-eyed expression. “Oh, but he was just about to tell me another joke—weren’t you?”

The boy—who now looks just the slightest bit uneasy—glances between us before giving a forced chuckle. “Uh, yeah, actually, I—”

“Oh, I’d love to hear it,” Aury interrupts, his grin sharp as a blade. “But you know what’s even funnier? How quickly I can make someone disappear from my starlight’s sight when she’s clearly just being polite.”

There’s a beat of silence, tense and charged. The Slytherin boy finally seems to sense the shift in atmosphere and holds up his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t,” I say sweetly, reaching up to pat Aurélien’s cheek in mock affection. “He’s just very protective.”

“Damn right, I am.” With that, Aurélien whisks me away, guiding me through the crowd with ease.

Once we’re a safe distance away, I smirk up at him. “You enjoy being my knight in shining armor, don’t you?”

He snorts. “Oh, absolutely. Did you see Malfoy’s face?”

I chance a glance over my shoulder—Draco is still watching, his jaw set so tightly I wonder if he’s going to crack a tooth.

I sigh dramatically. “I almost feel bad.”

Aurélien just grins. “Liar.”

Phase two? Complete. With a little help from a random snake. Who’d have thought?

“Right as always, troubadour,” I say playfully, pecking his cheek. “Ready to ramp this up?”

“But of course,” he laughs, spinning me around just to watch my dress flow.

I catch Harry’s eye from across the room and adjust my earring—our signal. He smirks and says something to Blaise, who nods with an open smile before Theo clinks his glass with his wand to catch everyone’s attention.

“Witches and wizards, distinguished guests, we have some entertainment for you this evening,” he calls out confidently, piquing everyone’s interest. “My dear friends Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini have decided to pursue a friendly challenge—a duel.”

The crowd stirs with excitement, people shifting to make room as a circle forms in the center of the common room. The air crackles with anticipation, fueled by the ever-present rivalry between Gryffindors and Slytherins. Harry steps forward first, rolling his shoulders like he’s just warming up, while Blaise takes his place opposite him, an easy smirk on his face.

“Alright, Potter,” Blaise drawls, twirling his wand between his fingers. “Let’s see if you live up to the legend.”

Harry grins. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Theo raises his hand between them. “Duelists, you know the rules. No Unforgivables, no lasting injuries, and for Merlin’s sake, don’t break anything—or else you’re dealing with Mr. Parkinson.”

A collective chuckle ripples through the crowd, and then—

“Three… two… one—Begin!”

Blaise strikes first, flicking his wand with a casual Expelliarmus. Harry sidesteps easily, countering with a playful Langlock—Blaise barely manages to shield in time, scowling when he realizes what Harry was aiming for.

“Cheeky bastard,” Blaise mutters, before throwing a nonverbal Stupefy.

Harry deflects it with an almost lazy flick of his wand, clearly enjoying himself. He circles Blaise, eyes glinting in the dim lighting, forcing the Slytherin to stay on the defensive.

I catch Draco watching intently from the sidelines, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His gaze flicks to me for a moment before snapping back to the duel.

Meanwhile, Blaise goes on the offensive, chaining together spells with impressive fluidity—Flipendo, Impedimenta, Incarcerous—but Harry dodges each one with infuriating ease.

“Come on, Zabini,” Harry taunts, “is that the best you’ve got?”

Blaise narrows his eyes. “Cocky, aren’t we?”

With a sharp jab of his wand, he sends a Glisseo straight at Harry’s feet, making the floor beneath him slick like ice.

Harry’s footing falters—but before he can fall, he twists midair, flipping in a ridiculous, showy maneuver that somehow lands him perfectly on his feet again.

The room erupts in cheers, and even I have to laugh. “Show-off.”

Aurélien whistles. “I like him.”

Blaise groans. “That’s just unfair.”

Harry winks. “Don’t hate the player, mate.”

With that, he smoothly disarms Blaise with a perfectly timed Expelliarmus, sending his wand flying straight into Theo’s hands.

Silence.

Then the crowd roars in approval, and Blaise, ever the good sport, lets out an exaggerated sigh before offering Harry a slow clap.

“Well played, Potter.”

Harry bows with a flourish. “I try.”

Theo steps forward, grinning. “That was very entertaining—but I think it’s only fair we offer the opportunity of a duel to the lovely host.”

He gestures largely at Pansy, who rolls her eyes. “Please. I’m not a child.”

“Oh, lighten up, Pans,” Astoria smirks, nudging her friend. “Could be fun. If you could duel anyone—who would it be?”

Pansy hesitates for a moment as she scans the crowd, before her eyes lock with mine. An evil grin spreads across her face. “How about our guest of honor?”

Everyone in attendance turns to look at me, seeing if I’m going to back down. I just grin.

“How could I refuse?”

The crowd murmurs with interest, the tension shifting as all eyes land on me and Pansy. She stands confidently, chin tilted up, a knowing smirk on her lips. She thinks she has the upper hand.

Theo claps his hands together. “Alright, alright, we’ve got ourselves another match! But let’s make this interesting—” His gaze flicks to me. “No wandless magic.”

A few people gasp. Someone whistles. My eyebrows lift.

I turn to Theo, feigning offense. “What, afraid I’ll end this too quickly?”

He grins. “Something like that.”

Pansy chuckles, flicking her wand between her fingers. “Oh, don’t pout, Lavigné. Let’s see if you can actually win without showing off.”

I roll my shoulders, giving a lazy smile. “Oh, sweetheart. I don’t need to show off to beat you.”

The crowd oohs at that, and I catch Harry snickering beside Aurélien. Draco, however, remains eerily still, watching from the sidelines, his jaw tight.

Theo raises his hands between us. “Same rules—three, two, one—begin!”

Pansy strikes first, a quick Expelliarmus—I deflect it without missing a beat, immediately countering with a sharp Petrificus Totalus.

She dodges, flicking her wand upward, sending a hex toward my feet. The stone floor cracks beneath me as she casts Bombarda, but I leap back gracefully, barely ruffled.

“Not bad,” I say, dodging a Confundo charm. “But let’s step it up, shall we?”

With a flick of my wand, I send a barrage of quickfire spells—Rictusempra, Flipendo, Expelliarmus—forcing her to block, dodge, and stumble backward. She’s keeping up, but I can tell she’s getting frustrated.

Pansy grits her teeth. “You’re so annoying.”

I grin. “You love it.”

She sends a Stupefy my way. I parry it effortlessly, sidestepping as I aim a nonverbal Levicorpus at her feet.

Pansy yells as she’s suddenly hoisted into the air, dangling upside down, her wand flying out of her grasp. The room erupts into laughter and cheers. I do cast one wandless charm—to keep her dress from exposing anything. I love a good duel, but I’d never embarrass her like that on purpose.

Aurélien howls with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Oh, this is magnifique.”

Pansy lets out an indignant shriek, flailing in the air. “Put me down you absolute menace!”

I tap my chin, pretending to consider it. “Hmm… I could.” I twirl my wand. “But where’s the fun in that?”

She glares at me, but there’s the faintest twitch of a smile. I roll my eyes and flick my wand again, gently lowering her back onto her feet.

Theo strides forward, raising his arms. “And the winner—unsurprisingly—is our lovely guest, Lavigné!”

The crowd claps and cheers, and Pansy huffs, smoothing down her hair. “Fine. You’re not terrible.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as high praise.” I wink, and she rolls her eyes, but there’s no real malice behind it.

The energy in the room is electric, everyone still riding the high of the duel. But my gaze flicks to the sidelines—to Draco.

He’s watching me like a storm brewing on the horizon.

Pansy notices. Her smirk returns.

“You know,” she muses, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeve, “I really hate that no one can touch you. It’s unfair.”

Before I can respond, I hear someone pushing their way through the crowd, scoffing. “Oh, please.”

When I turn in the direction of the commotion, I see none other than Draco striding up to me, looking both furious and arrogant.

I cross my arms as Theo presses his wand to his throat to amplify his voice, a wide grin on his face. “Well, what do we have here?”

Draco pulls his wand out, his fist clenched tightly around it. “You’re not untouchable, Lavigné.”

What a turn of events.

But I’m not passing this opportunity up.

“Oh really?” I coo playfully, tilting my head. “Prove it.”

The tension in the room shifts, crackling like the charged air before a storm. The crowd stirs, watching with bated breath as Draco steps closer, his grip on his wand iron-tight.

Theo, positively delighted by the escalation, doesn’t hesitate. “Another duel it is, ladies and gentlemen! Lavigné versus Malfoy!”

People cheer, shifting to make space. I barely hear them. My attention is locked onto Draco, who’s looking at me like he’s got something to prove. Like winning is the only option.

It won’t be.

Theo grins between us. “You both know the rules. No Unforgivables, no lasting damage.” He glances between us. “Ready?”

Draco doesn’t take his eyes off me as he gives a sharp nod.

I just smirk. “Always.”

Theo doesn’t even bother counting down. “Begin!”

Draco strikes first, sharp and relentless, sending a volley of spells my way—Expelliarmus, Incarcerous, Flipendo—but I weave through them effortlessly, dodging and shielding as if it’s second nature. Because it is.

He’s fast. He’s skilled. But he’s not faster than me.

I counter with a swift Stupefy that he barely manages to block, his jaw clenching as he retaliates with a nonverbal Locomotor Wibbly. My knees buckle for half a second before I force myself upright, deflecting his next spell with an almost lazy flick of my wand.

I grin. “You’ll have to do better than that, darling.”

His nostrils flare. “Don’t patronize me.”

I can see it now—the frustration behind his eyes, the way his movements are growing tighter, more desperate. He’s throwing every spell he has at me, determined to gain the upper hand.

But he never does.

It’s not like before.

I’m not holding back. I don’t have to anymore. The blood pact is gone, its invisible magic no longer leveling the playing field between us.

Draco is good. But I’m better.

I can see the moment he realizes it—the flicker of panic beneath his practiced mask.

I disarm him with a well-timed Expelliarmus, his wand flying from his grip and landing perfectly in my grasp. The room erupts, half in shock, half in wild exhilaration.

Draco stands frozen, his breathing sharp, his fists clenched.

I step closer, tucking my wand in my hair. His eyes follow the movement before looking back at my face. I drop my voice to a whisper.

“You felt it, didn’t you?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t answer.

I tilt my head. “It’s not the same anymore.”

Still, he says nothing. But he doesn’t have to.

Because the way his hands shake just slightly, the way his shoulders are wound so tight, the way his eyes burn into mine with something dangerously close to realization—

He knows.

He knows. And he hates it.

Without another word I flip his wand in my hand and hold it out to him. He takes the handle and pulls his wand from my grasp with an expression on his face I can’t quite place. Something between anger, regret, confusion and frustration.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but I quickly turn on my heel and saunter off back to Aurélien who wraps an arm around my shoulders with a smile, leaning down to kiss the top of my head and whisper his congratulations.

Draco doesn’t move.

He just stands there, wand in hand, still caught in whatever storm is raging inside him. The crowd has already shifted back into their revelry, but I can feel his eyes on me. Heavy. Searching.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Instead, I lean into Aurélien’s warmth, letting out a breathy little laugh as if the duel was nothing more than a passing amusement. He keeps an arm draped over my shoulders, casual and effortless, but I catch the way his fingers briefly squeeze my arm—a silent you did well.

I hum in response, my gaze flickering to Harry and Blaise, who are still deep in conversation. Pansy is watching me with an unreadable expression, though I swear there’s the ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips.

Draco, however, is silent.

Not a single remark. No last-ditch attempt to save face.

That alone tells me everything.

I know exactly what he’s thinking.

He’s reliving it—the duel, every move, every misstep. He’s remembering what it felt like to fight me before. To be my equal. The blood pact had made sure of that.

But now? Now, without that magic binding us, there’s nothing stopping me from leaving him behind.

He felt it. The gap between us. The way I outmatched him.

And by the way his hand curls back into a fist at his side, I know he’s realizing something else, too.

He’s lost me.

I let Aurélien lead me away, tilting my head up to smile at him. He grins back, deliberately tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear—knowing full well Draco is still watching.

And when I laugh, soft and sweet, I swear I hear the sharp exhale of breath from somewhere in the crowd.

Like a man drowning in his own thoughts.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t take a lot of restraint not to go to him—to comfort him and tell him it was all an act, that I miss him and I’d still do anything to make things right between us.

But I don’t.

Instead, holding onto Aurélien’s bicep, I make a beeline for the fire whiskey.

Screw the plan. I need a drink.

The firewhiskey burns, but I barely register it. One drink turns to two, then three, until the edges of the room blur into something softer, warmer. The tension in my shoulders melts away, and suddenly, everything feels lighter.

Aurélien watches me with a knowing smirk, but he doesn’t stop me. If anything, he seems amused. “Mauvaise idée,” he murmurs, plucking the glass from my hand before I can down a fourth.

I swat at him, pouting. “Traitor.”

He chuckles, but before he can respond, Blaise calls my name from across the room. I turn to find him lounging with Theo, Harry, Pansy, and the Greengrass sisters, all gathered in an easy circle, drinks in hand.

“Oi, get over here, Lavigné,” Theo grins, tipping his glass toward me. “We were just discussing Malfoy’s tragic downfall.”

Pansy smirks. “You know, how he went from Hogwarts’ Most Eligible Bachelor to, well…” She gestures toward the spot where Draco had been standing moments ago—still frozen, still reeling.

I giggle, barely thinking before I let the words slip past my lips. “Oh, please. Draco was never Hogwarts’ Most Eligible Bachelor.”

A beat of silence. Then Astoria gasps, delighted. “Scandaleux!”

“Oh, this should be good,” Theo laughs, leaning in. “Tell us, darling—what deep, dark secrets of our dear Draco Malfoy have you been keeping?”

Harry raises a brow, intrigued but cautious. “This feels like dangerous territory.”

“It is,” Daphne muses, sipping her drink. “Which is why we must continue.”

I hum, tapping a finger to my lips in exaggerated thought. “Well…” I drag it out, enjoying the way they all lean in closer. “His hair looks insane in the mornings. Before he slicks it down and adds all those products, he looks like a—like a wet cat.”

Theo howls with laughter. “A wet cat?”

I nod sagely. “One time, I woke him up at—what, seven? Maybe six-thirty? And he got mad at me because I saw him before he had a chance to tame it.”

Astoria gasps again. “No kidding?”

Pansy chokes on her drink. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“And,” I continue, emboldened by the laughter, “he secretly loves sweetener in his tea, but only if no one’s looking. He always makes this big show of drinking it black, but the second he thinks he’s alone? Two spoons of honey, or a ton of sugar, minimum.”

“Draco Malfoy likes sweet tea?” Blaise cackles.

“Oh, you have no idea,” I say, leaning forward like I’m about to share classified information. “He’s got the biggest sweet tooth. When we were at his Manor, we baked together, and he—”

I pause.

The memory catches me off guard. The flour on our faces, the way he wiped something off my cheek without thinking, the rare unrestrained laugh that escaped him when I flicked batter at him.

My chest tightens.

I shake it off, plowing forward before anyone can read too much into the sudden shift in my expression. “—he ate half the batch we made in one sitting. He had, like, half a dozen cookies.”

Harry blinks. “Malfoy bakes?”

“With gusto,” I say, dramatically placing a hand over my heart. “And he’s good at it. Picky as hell about measurements, though. I swear he nearly had an existential crisis over whether we should measure the flour by weight or volume.”

Theo is practically in tears. “I—I can’t breathe.”

Daphne wipes at her eyes, breathless with laughter. “This is gold.”

Blaise leans back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy. Who knew he was such a softie?”

And for the first time all night, I let myself glance back toward Draco.

He’s exactly where I left him.

Still watching.

Jaw tight. Hands fisted at his sides.

But there’s something else now—something flickering behind the frustration, beneath the bruised ego.

A glint of something almost vulnerable.

Like he’s remembering it, too.

I don’t dwell on it, already feeling a bit guilty for how much I’ve shared in the few minutes I’ve been over here. Aury seems to sense my change in demeanor, leaning close to whisper in my ear. “Everything okay, mon étoile?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” I lie, pecking his cheek and standing up. “Be right back. I’m going to sample some of the hors d’oeuvres.”

“If you say so,” he replies, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll be right here.”

I nod and slip away to the refreshment table, knocking back another round of fire whiskey when no one is looking. But as I go to refill my glass, my movements slow and a little off kilter, someone takes the glass from my hand.

“Aury, not aga—”

“Wrong boyfriend.”

I look up to see Draco, his arms crossed and a displeased sneer on his face.

I scoff, my words slurring together ever so slightly. “Last I checked, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Draco’s jaw ticks. “Right. My mistake. You seem very single.”

I roll my eyes and reach for another glass, but he moves faster, sliding it out of reach.

“Give it back,” I huff.

“You’ve had enough.” His tone is clipped, authoritative—like he has any right to tell me what to do.

I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, now you care?” I cross my arms, tilting my head mockingly. “That’s rich, Dray.”

The nickname seems to catch him off guard for a moment—hell, I even surprise myself with it—but he recovers quickly. His nostrils flare, frustration flickering in his gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” I scoff. “No, ridiculous is you acting like I’m supposed to sit around and wallow after everything that happened. Ridiculous is you acting like you get to be upset about any of this.” I take a step closer, pointing a finger at his chest. “You lost your chance. You chose to let me go. So if you’re jealous? That’s on you.”

Draco’s lips press into a thin line. He doesn’t deny it.

Instead, he exhales harshly, running a hand through his hair. “You can’t just—” He gestures vaguely at the party, at Aurélien, at me. “—throw yourself at the first bloke who looks at you just to prove a point.”

I gape at him. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean,” he snaps, his voice lowering as he steps into my space. “Beauxbatons has been glued to your side all night, and you’re letting him—” He clenches his jaw. “You think that’s moving on?”

I scoff. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Would you rather I be miserable?”

Draco’s silence is answer enough.

I shake my head, the alcohol making my emotions louder, harder to control. “You don’t get to be mad at me for this. You don’t get to want me only when you see someone else treating me right.”

His eyes flicker with something almost desperate, but he schools his features quickly. “I’m not—”

“You are.” I cut him off, stepping even closer, until our faces are barely a breath apart. “And I don’t care.”

For a moment, it almost looks like he’s going to say something. Do something.

But then, his expression shifts—his concern winning out over his jealousy. “Come on,” he mutters, wrapping a hand around my wrist. “You’re done for the night. I’m taking you back to the castle.”

I blink up at him, caught off guard. “You are?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, starting to tug me toward the exit. “You’ve had too much to drink, and I know how you get when—”

But before he can get more than a step away, another hand closes around my free wrist.

Aurélien.

He’s calm. Unbothered. But there’s a steeliness in his grip as he pulls me gently back toward him, effortlessly breaking Draco’s hold.

“You’ve lost that privilege, mon ami.” His voice is pleasant—too pleasant. But his words are sharp, cutting like glass. “She’s with me now.”

Draco’s entire body goes rigid.

I swear I hear his teeth grind.

I tilt my head, lips curling into something smug. “Yeah, Draco. Like I said—I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Draco’s hands clench into fists, but he doesn’t fight it.

He just turns on his heel and stalks away, jaw tight, shoulders tense, looking very much like a man who hates the fact that he has no one to blame for this but himself.

Aury pulls me out of my thoughts. “I should’ve known you’d come to get more.”

I look up, half expecting him to chastise me, but all I see is a fond smile on his lips. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“Of course you don’t,” he replies cooly, slowly leading me back towards the group. “Maybe I just like being able to protect you sometimes.”

I roll my eyes, but a small smile tugs at my lips. “You are rather gallant, troubadour.”

He grins. “Don’t I know it.”

As we rejoin the group, I immediately catch sight of Harry and Theo, deep in conversation, laughing like old friends.

“You’re joking,” Harry says, eyes wide with amusement.

Theo shakes his head, smirking. “Not at all. He tripped twice trying to get out of his robes and pretended it didn’t happen both times.”

Harry snorts. “Merlin, I almost feel bad for him.”

“Who?” I ask, slipping into an empty seat between Astoria and Pansy.

Theo grins. “Draco.”

My stomach tightens, but I keep my expression neutral. “And what, exactly, are we pitying him for?”

Harry gives me a look. “Oh, come on. You saw him, didn’t you?”

I lift a brow. “Saw what?”

“That he misses you,” Theo answers, exasperated. “The whole room saw it.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Right. That’s why he spent the entire night glaring at me.”

“He wasn’t glaring,” Harry argues. “He was suffering.”

“Oh, please.” I scoff, crossing my arms. “If he really cared, he wouldn’t have let me go in the first place.”

Pansy, who has been suspiciously quiet, suddenly speaks up. “You know…” she muses, swirling her drink, “I could always nudge him in the right direction.”

I blink, startled. “You’d what?”

She shrugs, all casual. “I could get him to apologize. Maybe even grovel, if you’d prefer.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why would you help?”

Pansy sighs, setting her glass down. “Because, as much as it pains me to say it, you and Draco were good together.” She studies me with something close to amusement. “And, well, I do love a bit of drama.”

Theo snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

I chew my lip, considering. A part of me wants to see Draco squirm. Wants to make him work for it, if he really does care.

But another part of me—the part that still hurts—isn’t sure if I want to give him that chance at all.

Still, I look back at Pansy, arching a brow. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

She grins, eyes glinting with mischief. “Leave that to me.”

“That’s slightly unsettling,” I reply, leaning back into Aury, who’s standing behind me protectively. “But I have to admit, I’m intrigued.”

“We’ve been talking,” Harry leans forward, gesturing to Theo, “and we think if our friend groups merged more often, making Malfoy run into you more…”

“He wouldn’t be able to keep pretending he’s mad,” Theo finishes for him, mimicking his body language. “Because you should know by now—he is pretending. That boy couldn’t hate you if he tried.”

I scoff, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You lot are obsessed with the idea of getting us back together.”

Theo smirks. “What can I say? I love a lost cause.”

I roll my eyes, but before I can reply, I catch the way Theo and Harry glance at each other—like they’ve been friends for ages rather than just a few hours.

It’s a little off-putting, if I’m being honest. Not because I mind, necessarily, but because it’s weird seeing Theo get along so well with Harry Potter of all people. A few months ago, Theo wouldn’t have been caught dead voluntarily talking to a Gryffindor, let alone bonding with one.

Still, it’s kind of amusing, watching them banter like they’ve been doing this for years.

Aury seems to notice my expression and nudges me, whispering in my ear, “Je crois qu’ils ont eu un coup de foudre.”

I snort, covering my mouth. “A love at first sight moment? You think?”

He smirks. “Platonically, of course. But look at them—they’re a natural pair.”

Theo and Harry, oblivious to our commentary, are still talking.

“I mean, really,” Theo says, shaking his head, “why does he always run a hand through his hair like that? Does he think it’s charming?”

Harry groans. “Thank you! Finally, someone gets it.”

“Oh, I got it the first time I met him,” Theo replies dryly. “I just didn’t have anyone to complain about it to.”

I shake my head, amused, before turning back to Pansy. “Alright,” I say, crossing my arms. “I accept your offer.”

Pansy arches a brow. “Oh?”

I shrug. “Draco aside, it might be nice to have another girl friend.”

Pansy blinks like she hadn’t considered that possibility, then smirks. “Well, if you’re going to be seen with me, we’ll need to do something about your wardrobe.”

Astoria perks up immediately. “Oh, yes.”

I laugh, lifting my drink. “Fine, but if I’m getting a wardrobe upgrade, you’re all getting a music upgrade. No offense, but these pureblood manor party playlists are tragic.”

Theo gasps dramatically. “You wound me.”

Harry leans toward him, conspiratorially. “She’s right, though.”

Pansy sighs, swirling her drink. “Well, if we must.”

I grin, letting the warmth of the moment settle over me. For the first time in a while, things feel… light.

And maybe—just maybe—I don’t mind that so much.