The Pact

I don’t know what Pansy said or did to Draco on Sunday, but in potions, he doesn’t glare daggers at me anymore. Sure, we might not be outwardly talking, but I definitely don’t get the vibe that he hates me now.

Hannah loved every second of me telling her the drama that went down at Pansy’s party—she was only slightly jealous that she didn’t get to witness it in person. But now? Hannah is helping me push the chaos a little farther without me even asking her to.

As soon as Snape announces that we can pick our own partners, Hannah moves fast. She practically lunges toward Theo, looping her arm through his before I even have time to blink.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Theo,” she says, all too innocently, her eyes darting toward me for the briefest second. She definitely did that on purpose.

Theo raises a brow but smirks. “Guess so, Abbott. Let’s hope you don’t blow up my cauldron.”

I barely have a chance to react before I hear the unmistakable scrape of a stool beside me. Draco.

I glance over at him just as he exhales sharply through his nose, as if already regretting every life choice that led him to this moment. “Looks like we’re partners, then,” he mutters, avoiding my gaze.

“Looks like it,” I reply, trying to keep my voice neutral, but I know Hannah is practically buzzing with excitement behind me. She definitely planned this.

Draco rolls up his sleeves and sets up our workstation with practiced ease, his movements sharp and efficient. I wait for the inevitable tension, for the biting remarks or exasperated sighs. But instead, it’s… quiet. Not awkward, but not exactly comfortable either.

“Don’t mess up,” he finally says as he starts chopping ingredients.

I snort. “Last I checked, I was the one fixing your potions.”

And for the briefest second, his lips twitch—just enough to make me wonder if I’m imagining it. Then, as if remembering himself, he straightens. “It’s only fair. After all, historically I’m always the one cleaning up your messes.”

His tone is sharp—bitter. He wants me to flinch away, for me to get angry, for me to back down for once.

I don’t.

“It’s too bad you hated it so much. You were so good at it,” I drawl, prepping some of our ingredients.

“I didn’t—” he starts, before clearing his throat and lowering his voice. “I didn’t hate it.”

After a beat, I finally chance a glance at him. “My mistake, then.”

He seems to give in to the urge to look at me, and when his silver eyes meet mine, my heart skips a beat. There’s no anger there, no outright malice—just thinly veiled regret.

“Dray…”

“Do you have the kneazle fur?” he asks suddenly, looking back at the cauldron. “That’s the next step.”

I sigh softly before handing the vial to him, ignoring the flutter in my chest when our fingers brush.

I’m still mad at him for the way he’s handled this, for being so over dramatic about things—but then I remember it’s not really fair of me. If the roles were reversed, I’d be an absolute mess.

“I’m sorry, you know.”

My voice comes out so quiet I almost don’t think he heard it—but he did.

“I know.”

Draco wipes his face with his hand before looking back at me, jaw clenched. “That doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

I don’t argue—I can’t. I just nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I know.”

We work in silence for the rest of the class, and when it comes to a close, our potion is perfect.

We always did work well together.

The moment Snape dismisses us, Draco is gone.

He doesn’t even wait for me to pack up before he’s out of his seat and striding toward the door, his bag slung over his shoulder like he has somewhere very important to be. Which, knowing him, is probably just away from me.

I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding, placing the last of our supplies back in the crate before turning to find Hannah and Theo standing nearby.

“Well, that was something,” Theo hums, arms crossed as he watches Draco disappear down the hall.

“Yeah,” Hannah agrees, tossing her bag over her shoulder. “He wasn’t a complete arse. That’s progress!”

“Don’t push it,” I mutter, rubbing at my temple. “He’s still—” I sigh. “I don’t know.”

Theo raises a brow. “Still in love with you?”

Hannah gasps dramatically, eyes flicking between us like she’s watching the most riveting romance novel unfold in real time.

I groan. “Not this again—”

“Fine, fine,” Theo says, smirking. “But I’m just saying, the way he looks at you—”

“Can we not—?”

Theo just grins, but Hannah elbows him before he can say anything else. “Come on, we have a free period. Let’s go find everyone.”

The courtyard is lively when we get there, warm sunlight spilling over the grass as students lounge around in small clusters.

The Golden Trio is already set up near one of the stone benches—Harry and Ron playing some kind of competitive game with pebbles while Hermione rolls her eyes at them. Not far off, Blaise and Pansy are perched under the shade of a tree, chatting in low voices, while Theo drops down beside them with an exaggerated sigh.

Hannah tugs me toward the middle of it all, plopping down in the grass before reaching for my hand and yanking me down with her.

And then there’s Draco.

Not with anyone in particular, but there.

He leans against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He’s not scowling, not throwing sharp remarks my way, not actively avoiding me like he has been. He’s just… there.

I feel Hannah nudge me, and when I glance over, she wiggles her eyebrows like see? progress.

I roll my eyes.

And yet, as I settle in, laughing when Ron loses spectacularly at whatever game he and Harry were playing, I can’t help but notice the way Draco’s gaze flickers toward me every now and then—like he doesn’t want to be here, but he doesn’t not want to be here, either.

Pansy seems to think this is just perfect.

We all shift to form one big group instead of two separate ones, with me settled in between Mione and Pansy. Hannah and Theo aren’t far, still chatting it up after potions, and Harry finds Theo’s other side with practiced ease, butting into their conversation.

“I still can’t believe those boys have gotten so close,” Hermione comments, gesturing to Harry and Theo. “I never even knew they tolerated each other.”

“It’s a bit of a story,” I chuckle, leaning back onto my hands. “But they’ve always gotten along well. They met officially on the train after Christmas break when Harry slipped into the cart with me, Draco, and the boys. They seem to enjoy bonding over bothering him.”

Pansy chuckles. “Bothering whom?”

“Dray,” I say cooly, trying to ignore the familiarity of the nickname. “Draco, I mean.”

Pansy’s smirk is downright conniving as she sips at her conjured cup of tea. “Oh, I know. Theo has been relentless lately.”

Across the group, Theo nudges Harry with his elbow, his voice carrying over. “Malfoy was always so dramatic about you, mate. You should’ve heard the things he said first year—”

Draco, who had been silent up until now, lets out a pointed cough, fixing Theo with a flat stare. “And you should be grateful I don’t still know the Bat-Bogey Hex.”

Theo grins, unfazed. “I’d like to see you try, Malfoy.”

Draco glares at him, but he doesn’t storm off or snap back with his usual venom. Instead, he just shakes his head and settles in between Ron and Blaise, pretending to be far more interested in the horizon than the conversation.

I glance at Pansy, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, what did you say to him?”

She hums, setting down her cup. “Oh, now you’re curious?”

I roll my eyes. “Pansy.”

She glances at Draco, as if checking to make sure he isn’t listening, before leaning in slightly. “I just… reminded him of a few things.”

I narrow my eyes. “Like?”

Pansy shrugs, her expression unreadable. “Like how utterly miserable he’s been, how ridiculous it is for him to keep acting like he doesn’t still care, and how, deep down, he’s being stubborn just for the sake of it.” She tilts her head, watching me carefully. “And that no matter how angry he is… he’s never going to actually hate you.”

My stomach flips.

I stare at her for a moment, trying to process that, before glancing toward Draco again. He’s still not looking at me, still pretending like I don’t exist, but… he’s here. With me and them instead of running off.

And somehow, that’s enough.

When I turn back to Hermione, she’s watching Ron and Draco knowingly, before nudging me in the shoulder.

“I never thought I’d say this, but… I’m kind of glad Malfoy is making his way back into the group,” she chuckles, tilting her head. “He can be an annoying prat, but he can actually be quite entertaining. And it’s nice to have someone else in the group who challenges me intellectually.”

Harry, as if just now clueing in from across the circle, perks up. “Blimey, Hermione. I don’t appreciate that.”

“It’s not an insult,” she laughs, throwing her head back. “You didn’t even hear the first half of this conversation. Mind your own.”

Harry scoffs, leaning back on his elbows. “Right, well, now I have heard it, and I’m deeply offended.”

Ron smirks. “Don’t worry, mate. I wasn’t included either.”

“That’s because you don’t challenge me intellectually,” Hermione teases, nudging him with her foot.

Ron gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “The betrayal! How could you, Mione?”

Theo grins. “Oh, please, you lot need Malfoy to keep things interesting. Otherwise, it’s just Potter and Weasley running around half-cocked with no plan—”

“We do have plans!” Harry argues.

Blaise hums, shaking his head. “Mmm… debatable.”

Draco, who had been largely ignoring the conversation up until now, finally huffs a laugh. “Oh, come off it, Potter. We all know half your victories were pure luck.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “I’ll have you know skill was involved.”

“Oh, of course,” Draco drawls. “Top-tier strategizing, like flying headfirst into a tree during first-year Quidditch.”

Ron loses it, nearly falling over. “I told you it was dumb!”

Harry throws his hands up. “Alright, well, if I remember correctly, you were the one who got tangled in Devil’s Snare and nearly died.”

Draco snorts. “Devil’s Snare? Really?”

“Oi! I didn’t know we were supposed to relax!” Ron defends.

“Didn’t we just establish you don’t think things through?” Pansy smirks, inspecting her nails.

Theo laughs. “Pot, meet kettle.”

“Bite me, Nott.”

“Not my type, Weasley, sorry.”

The group dissolves into laughter, and Draco actually seems to be enjoying himself. He’s relaxed in a way I haven’t seen in ages, throwing in his usual wit and arrogance, his signature charm slipping back into place like he never left.

But even as he smirks and quips at everyone else, his gaze never once lands on me.

He won’t even look at me.

And somehow, that—more than anything—hurts the most.

After the group dissolves, everyone heading their own way, I’m left with Pansy, Blaise and Theo. It’s against my better judgement to stick around, but there’s a question that’s been eating at me since the end of the party last weekend.

“Hey, Pans?” I chirp, clutching onto my bag. “How come—I mean, why haven’t you lot tried to kill me yet?”

Blaise snorts, giving me an almost unamused look. “That’s not what you’re asking.”

I bite my lip, exhaling. “I know, I just… I thought you all hated me.”

“There it is,” Theo chimes in, ruffling my hair. “Just say what you mean, little badger.”

I swat Theo’s hand away, scowling. “I’m serious.”

Pansy sighs dramatically, crossing her arms. “Trust me, darling, if I still hated you, you’d know.”

Blaise nods in agreement. “We gave it a fair shot, too. But turns out, we’re far too exhausted with Malfoy’s dramatics to keep it up.”

I blink. “What?”

Theo grins, nudging my shoulder. “He’s been insufferable. And not even in the usual ‘I’m better than everyone’ way—more like ‘I’m going to mope and sigh dramatically in the corner until someone acknowledges my suffering’ kind of way.”

“Oh, and Merlin forbid you try to talk to him about it,” Pansy scoffs. “You’d think we crucio’d him with the way he sulks.”

Blaise rolls his eyes. “If we have to listen to him go on about ‘how could she do this to me’ one more time, I swear—”

I shake my head, overwhelmed. “I just—so, you’re helping me? Why?”

Pansy gives me a look. “Oh, come on, Lavigné. Do you really think we’re all that daft?”

Theo leans back, watching me closely. “We’ve had a lot of time to think about everything, and as much as we hate admitting it…” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “We get why you did it.”

Blaise nods, glancing away. “Doesn’t mean we liked it, but… you were trying to protect us.”

Pansy purses her lips, tilting her head slightly. “You could have done it differently.”

“I know,” I admit quietly.

“But we can’t change that now.” Blaise shrugs. “So, if Malfoy is going to be an idiot about it, we might as well speed things along.”

Theo cards a hand through his curls, a cocky grin on his face. “Besides. I’m pretty sure we said you were our problem now, if you recall.”

“And snakes don’t leave each other behind,” Pansy adds, fixing my collar. “As annoying as they might be.”

I stare at them, something tightening in my chest. Because even though they’re clearly still frustrated with me—even though they’re making no promises—there’s something strangely warm about the way they’re still here.

“You guys…” I swallow, shaking my head. “You’re all insane.”

Theo smirks. “Oh, absolutely.”

Pansy grins, looping her arm through mine. “Come on, darling. Let’s go find more ways to annoy our resident sad prince.”

~

A few days pass similarly—our groups occasionally converging, Draco acting normal with everyone but me. He won’t acknowledge me, really, but I catch him looking at me a lot. If something funny happens, he glances up like he’s checking to see if I’m laughing, too. When he makes a jab at the trio, he watches to see if I’ll correct him like I used to.

I don’t.

If he wants space, I’ll give him space. Maybe he just needs some time to warm back up to me, to get used to the thought that nothing will ever be the same again.

I really don’t know what’s going through his head, and it bothers me more than I can articulate that I can’t feel what he’s feeling anymore. I just hope he comes back to me.

Maybe he’ll forgive me eventually. Maybe he won’t, and I’ll be trapped in an arranged marriage filled with animosity. I don’t really care as long as I have him somehow.

For Merlin’s sake, I just want him to acknowledge me.

“Y/n?”

Hannah pulls me out of my thoughts, sharing a look with Mione.

“Sorry, what?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ears.

Hermione shakes her head. “You’ve been so distracted lately. You should just talk to him.”

“That’s not—”

“That’s exactly what you’re thinking about,” Hannah cuts me off. “Don’t even try to lie.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “Yeah, fine, but that was a lucky guess.”

“We have different ideas of lucky,” Hermione says pointedly, looking down at her parchment.

The library is relatively busy, with students cramming for finals coming up soon. It drives Hermione nuts, but I honestly don’t mind. I quite like the white noise when I’m studying.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” I reply after a moment, shifting in my seat. “He needs space to process things. He’ll come to me when he’s ready.”

Hermione quirks a brow. “That’s… mature of you.”

“You mean weird,” Hannah says shortly. “What happened to you? I kind of liked it when you were impulsive and unhinged all the time.”

“I wasn’t—” I start, before cutting myself off. “Well… I just figure, if the Slytherins can forgive me, I can give Draco space. I owe him that much.”

The girls both look at me as if I’ve grown a new head, clearly surprised by my lack of over the top dramatics. They seem to shrug it off, seeming to choose studying over arguing with me.

We go back to our respective texts, our quills scratching against our parchments. I’m not sure how much time passes before the unthinkable pulls my focus away.

I feel it. A light tap on my wrist—hesitant, light, unsure.

My eyes go wide and I place my hand over the tap bracelet on my opposite wrist, pausing. Waiting.

It happens again—clearer this time.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. “I’m here.”

What the hell?

I look around, confused, before looking up at Hannah and Hermione. “I’ll be right back,” I tell them, standing up.

“Where are you off to now?” Hannah sighs, studying me. “Not running off to another country again, are you?”

“No, I promise,” I reply, forcing a small chuckle. “Just the bathroom.”

Hermione nods absently. “Don’t fall in.”

“Very funny,” I muse, walking away as casually as I can manage.

I don’t head to the bathroom, of course. I go to the one spot I think Draco might be—his favorite seat in the back corner of the library, where we first started forming a genuine relationship. The armchair that I sat in when we weren’t talking, trying to get some comfort.

I hold my breath as I pass the last row of bookshelves, still holding onto the bracelet. My heart sinks when I see it.

A familiar head of hair perched against the back of the armchair.

With a steady breath, I step closer. “Hi.”

Draco turns to look at me, his expression unreadable. “You came.”

“I did,” I say softly, looking down at the bracelet on my wrist. “I thought you got rid of yours.”

He hums noncommittally. “I don’t usually throw away things I buy. Kind of defeats the purpose of buying them.”

“Right,” I nod, shifting my weight. He doesn’t fill the silence, so I take another step towards him. “Did you want to talk or something?”

Draco shrugs, looking back down at the book in his lap. “Not particularly.”

“Oh,” I say dumbly, adjusting my sleeve. “Should I leave you be, then?”

He doesn’t look up, but his tone shifts ever so slightly. I can’t quite place it. “If you want to.”

“I could sit, then,” I suggest, trying to gauge his expression.

Draco locks eyes with me once more. “You can do whatever you want. You’re a free woman.”

Ah. That’s what this is.

He’s testing me.

If I know Draco, he’s jealous—probably still reeling about me being all over Aurélien at that party. Maybe he doesn’t know where he stands, and this is his thinly veiled attempt to figure it out.

With a shrug, I stand a few paces in front of him, waving my hand and making an armchair of a similar style to his just behind me. When I plop down, Draco is openly staring at me, his mouth agape.

“Did you just… conjure that?”

I give him a small smile. “I’ve been working on some things.”

Draco narrows his eyes slightly, studying me with something between skepticism and reluctant admiration. I know he’s trying to act indifferent, but the surprise lingers in his gaze.

“That’s not exactly beginner-level magic,” he says, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “Or even advanced, really.”

I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. “Guess I’ve had some good teachers.”

His jaw tightens just slightly, and I wonder if he catches the subtext—that he was one of them.

We sit there for a while, neither of us speaking, but it’s not uncomfortable. Not really. I can feel the tension beneath the surface, but there’s something almost peaceful about being near him again. Even if he won’t admit he wants me here.

Draco flicks his gaze toward me more than once, like he’s waiting for me to say something first. Maybe he thinks I’ll bring up the party, or apologize again, or explain myself in a way that makes it easier for him to forgive me.

I don’t.

Instead, I pull out my own book from my bag, flipping it open to a random page. If he wants to sit in silence, I’ll sit in silence. If he wants space, I’ll give him space. But if he’s testing me—if he’s trying to see how long I’ll last before I break—I’m not playing into it.

At least, not yet.

Minutes pass. I feel his eyes on me more than his book. The tap bracelet is still warm against my wrist, like a lingering question he won’t voice. Like a bridge neither of us is willing to cross first.

I don’t know how much time goes by before he exhales, almost like he’s frustrated with himself, and mutters under his breath, “What are you even reading?”

I glance up, biting back a smirk. “Didn’t think you wanted to talk.”

He rolls his eyes. “Forget I asked.”

I let the silence settle again for a few beats, then tilt the book toward him. “It’s about ancient magical artifacts. Figured it might help with… you know. The whole mess I’m in.”

Something flickers in his eyes—curiosity, maybe. But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans back in his chair, twirling his wand between his fingers like he’s deep in thought.

I take a breath. “Draco.”

He looks at me, waiting.

“Did you mean it?” I ask quietly, my fingers brushing over my bracelet. “When you tapped?”

His expression is unreadable again, carefully controlled. “Do I ever do things unintentionally?”

I study him for a long moment, searching for the cracks in his armor. There aren’t many, but I think I see one—a small one, barely visible, but there.

“Then why now?” I ask.

Draco holds my gaze, his grip tightening around his book. His lips part slightly like he wants to say something real—something that actually matters—but at the last second, he glances away.

He doesn’t answer.

But he doesn’t need to.

Because he’s still here.

~

When I walk out of potions, I half expect the corridor to be empty. Snape held me after class for a few minutes to go over my marks, considering the assignments that were exempt. But when I step out of the door, I freeze.

“Draco?”

He clenches his jaw, looking torn between running for the hills and melting into the ground.

I step further into the corridor, leaning against the wall next to him. “Are you okay?”

Draco looks away for a moment before turning back to me, taking a breath. “I’m sorry about your father.”

I blink, taken aback. “Oh. Um… thank you.”

He huffs, looking uncomfortable before avoiding my eyes again. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. It wasn’t your fault. I just… thought you should know that.”

I can’t ignore the way my body reacts to his words. It feels like a weight is lifted off of my shoulders, the pressure on my chest easing ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Dray.”

My voice is undeniably soft, and I don’t do anything to mask it. He took a leap of faith—I can, too.

He nods sharply, shifting his weight as if to go, but I straighten. “Wait—we should… do you want to talk? About things?” I stutter, crossing my arms. “Because we can—”

“See you later,” he says quickly, turning on his heel.

I watch him walk away, my heart dropping.

He’s initiated some kind of conversation twice now, but I can’t figure out why. I think he might be testing me, but I’m not even sure what the test is for. What he’s trying to prove.

I’m sick and tired of these games—he needs to man up and just say whatever he wants to say.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” I call out, crossing my arms.

He freezes immediately, halfway down the hall. Draco turns around slowly, looking vaguely concerned.

“Get your arse over here right now.”

He blinks, clearly trying to process what’s happening. “But I have charms.”

“I fail to see how that’s my problem,” I shoot back, taking a few steps in his direction. “Come here.”

Draco exhales sharply through his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line as if weighing the pros and cons of ignoring me. But then—whether out of curiosity, resignation, or sheer fear of whatever I might do next—he starts walking back toward me.

When he reaches me, he shifts his weight, glancing down the corridor as if searching for an escape route. “What do you want?” His voice is careful, but I can tell he’s already bracing himself for whatever I’m about to say.

I don’t answer him. Instead, I grab his wrist and start walking.

“Oi—where are we going?” he protests, resisting slightly, but I only tighten my grip.

“You’ll see.”

“That’s not remotely reassuring,” he grumbles, but he follows anyway.

I don’t let go, not even when we round corners and ascend staircases, moving with purpose toward the seventh floor. I can feel the tension radiating off him—his silence, the way his fingers twitch beneath mine—but he doesn’t pull away.

The corridor outside the Room of Requirement is empty when we arrive. I pace three times in front of the wall, willing it to give me what I need, and a door materializes.

Draco exhales a slow, wary breath. “Brilliant,” he mutters. “I see we’re doing the whole locking me in a room against my will thing today.”

“Shut up and get inside,” I say sweetly, shoving the door open.

He steps in cautiously, eyes flicking around the space. The room is simple—no grand library or hidden artifacts, just a quiet sitting area with plush armchairs, warm lighting, and a fireplace crackling in the corner. It’s designed for a conversation.

I shut the door behind us, and the click of the lock makes his shoulders tense.

“Right,” he drawls, turning to face me. “And what, pray tell, is this about?”

I cross my arms, matching his stare. “You keep hovering. You keep looking at me like you have something to say. So say it.”

His jaw tightens. “I did say it.”

“That was barely a sentence,” I snap. “You’ve been circling me for days, Malfoy. You keep showing up, making cryptic comments, and then running away before anything real can happen. If you have something to say, say it.”

He looks at me, unreadable. Then he tilts his head slightly, voice low and edged. “You’re one to talk about running away.”

The words hit harder than they should. My breath catches, but I hold my ground. “This isn’t about me.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Of course, it isn’t.”

I step closer, ignoring the sharp spike in my pulse. “Draco.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. His breathing is a little heavier than before.

“I need you to be honest with me,” I say, quieter now.

Something flickers in his expression. A war waging behind his eyes. And then, finally—

“You obliviated me.”

The words land like a curse between us.

For a moment I say nothing, not sure whether to apologize or not. I choose the latter.

“I did,” I reply, my voice quieter now.

He looks away. “I don’t understand how you could do that to me.”

I gently grab his wrist and lead him to one of the chairs, sitting down in the one opposite. “Then let’s talk about it. Please. We have to talk about it.”

“I don’t know if I can without saying things I’ll regret later,” he states simply, flicking some dust off his shoulder. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding it.”

There’s a beat of silence as I tuck my legs up underneath myself, leaning back into the chair. “Just say whatever you need to. It’ll stay here.”

He eyes me suspiciously, like he’s waiting for me to take it back, before relenting. “I just… I’m so, so cross with you. I can barely look at you sometimes.”

“I know.”

“You were everything to me. The only reason I got out of bed in the mornings. And now? Now, every time I look at you, all I can see is a traitor.”

I wince, sighing. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think an apology is going to fix it,” he shoots back, crossing his arms. “I don’t know if anything can fix it.”

I nod, absorbing his words without argument. He needs this—needs to let the anger out, to get it all off his chest.

Draco exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head as if he can’t believe any of this is happening. “I trusted you,” he says, his voice gaining heat. “More than I trusted anyone. And you took that, and you—” He makes a frustrated motion with his hands, like he’s grasping at words that won’t come. “You stole it from me. You ripped it out of my hands like it meant nothing.”

His fingers dig into his arms where they’re crossed over his chest. “Do you even understand what you did to me? How wrong everything felt when I came back to myself? I didn’t know why, at first. Just that something—everything—was off. Like I was living in a house where someone had come in and rearranged all the furniture while I was sleeping. Like I was missing parts of myself and couldn’t even remember what they were.”

I stay quiet, watching the way his throat bobs, the way his breathing turns shallow.

He scoffs, shaking his head again. “And the worst part? The absolute worst part?” His eyes snap back to mine, sharp as a blade. “Even now, after everything—after knowing what you did, after knowing what you took—I still…” His voice falters, and for a second, something like devastation flickers across his face.

He presses his fingers to his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. “I still can’t fucking stay away from you,” he hisses, voice raw with frustration. “And I don’t know why. The bond is gone. I felt it break. There is no magic left tying us together, no spell forcing me to—” He stops, inhaling sharply like he’s caught himself before saying too much.

I stay still, letting his words settle.

He lets out a bitter laugh, dropping his hands into his lap. “Merlin, do you have any idea how maddening that is? How fucking pathetic it makes me feel? I should hate you. I do hate you.” He gestures between us. “And yet, here I am. Sitting in this fucking chair. Letting you drag me into a locked room so we can ‘talk about it’ like that’s going to fix anything.”

His words are cutting, but there’s something desperate in them. Like he’s just as lost as I am, like he’s searching for something—some kind of answer, some kind of reason—for why he’s still here.

I inhale slowly. “Draco,” I say gently.

His head snaps up. His eyes are wild, chest rising and falling too fast.

“You needed to say it,” I continue, voice steady. “So I let you.”

His expression twists, like he doesn’t know if he wants to scream at me or thank me.

“And if you need to say more, then say it,” I add. “I won’t stop you.”

His breathing is uneven, his fingers twitching in his lap. “You should stop me,” he mutters, voice rough. “You should tell me I’m being ridiculous. That I’m overreacting.”

“But you’re not,” I say simply.

His mouth opens slightly—like he hadn’t expected me to agree.

I hold his gaze, unwavering. “You have every right to be angry.”

Draco exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, looking like he’s just barely holding himself together. “I don’t know what to do with this,” he admits, voice hoarse.

“Me neither,” I say honestly.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant.”

Silence stretches between us, heavy and taut.

Then, so quietly I almost miss it—

“I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

It’s not a confession. It’s a curse.

“I know it doesn’t help,” I say softly, fiddling with my ring, “but it’s not your fault.”

He blinks. “What isn’t?”

“That you feel drawn to me,” I add, avoiding his gaze.

Should I really tell him? Right now?

Draco notices my change in demeanor. “What are you talking about?”

I sigh, pulling his pendant out from under my robes. He seems surprised I’m still wearing it. “If I tell you, you can’t freak out immediately. You have to give me a second to explain.”

“Oh, great. More fucking explanations,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. “Alright, then. Spit it out.”

I slip his pendant off and toss it to him, before studying my own ring in my hand. “Turn it over. You see that symbol on the back? Do you remember where that came from?”

“Of course I do,” he scoffs, tracing his finger over the engraved rune. “Popped up at that after party. When we…”

“When I hugged you for the first time,” I supply easily, my cheeks heating involuntarily. “Or in other terms, our first time initiating meaningful contact.”

Draco furrows his brow. “What?”

“I’ve done some research,” I say gently, reaching into my bag and pulling out a slip of parchment. “Took some notes. Looked for runes and their meanings.”

“Just spit it out, Lavigné.”

I take a breath, shutting my eyes as I blurt it out. “It’s a soulmate symbol.”

Silence.

Then—

“No.”

I open my eyes to see Draco staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. He’s gripping the pendant so tightly his knuckles have turned white.

“No,” he repeats, shaking his head hard. “That’s bullshit.”

I don’t say anything. I just hold out the parchment to him.

He stares at it, then at me, like he’s waiting for me to take it back and laugh, to tell him it was all a joke. But I don’t move.

His lips curl into a sneer. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” His voice is rising now, his whole body wound so tightly I think he might snap. “Because that—that can’t be true. There’s no fucking way. That’s not how this works.”

“Actually, it is,” I say evenly, shaking the parchment a little. “You can look for yourself.”

He glares at me like I’ve personally cursed him, then snatches the notes from my hand, scanning them furiously. His eyes flicker back and forth over the text, his breathing uneven.

“This—” he huffs, then trails off, flipping the parchment over as if expecting to find some proof that this is all a sick joke. His fingers are shaking. “No. This is—this is just some old magic nonsense—”

“That’s how most magic works, Draco.”

He glares up at me, eyes flashing. “Shut up.”

I do.

He looks back at the notes, tracing a specific line with his finger, lips moving slightly as he reads. I don’t have to look to know what it says. When soul magic manifests through an unintentional bond, fate may yet weave the threads anew.

His breathing is ragged. “No.”

I sigh, resting my chin on my palm. “I knew you were gonna freak out.”

“Of course I’m freaking out!” He throws the parchment onto the table between us like it’s physically burned him. “Because this is impossible. The bond broke. I felt it break.”

“I know.”

“Then how the fuck—” He makes a sharp, frustrated noise and shoves a hand through his hair, gripping it at the roots. “It’s not supposed to work like this! We were supposed to be done!”

He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling as he stares at me like I’ve rewritten the laws of magic just to personally ruin his life.

I inhale slowly, letting the moment settle before speaking. “I heard about it in the prophecy.”

His entire body goes still.

“What?”

“The prophecy,” I repeat carefully. “It said something about it.”

His lips part slightly, then press into a thin line, his expression unreadable.

“You knew about this,” he says, voice quieter now, but no less dangerous.

I nod.

“For how long?”

“A while.”

Draco exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching. He looks away, breathing heavily through his teeth.

He’s pissed. More than pissed.

I don’t move. I don’t try to justify myself.

Because, for once, I get it.

He needs this. He needs to be angry. He needs to rant, to feel everything, because that’s the only way he’s going to get through it.

So I wait.

“For fuck’s sake,” he breathes, carding a hand through his hair. He starts to pace about the room. “This isn’t—no, this can’t be happening. There’s no… you’re screwing with me, right? Trying to rope me back in or something?”

I shake my head, not saying anything.

“But this is insane. I thought soulmate magic was an old wive’s tale. You said—at my manor, you said you didn’t even believe in soulmates!”

“I didn’t,” I say quietly, watching him pace. “But I said I’d have liked to.”

He wipes a hand over his face. “No, that’s not how this works. It was supposed to be over. I wasn’t supposed to be tied to you after the bond broke. And now you’re telling me I still am? This is bullshit!”

“Draco.”

“So, what, some stupid prophecy says we’re meant to be together and that’s it? I get no choice?”

“Draco.”

He pinches his nose, exasperated. “This isn’t fair. Why does it always have to be like this? Why can’t I get a say in anything in my life?”

“Draco,” I say louder now, making him pause. “It can be broken.”

He gapes. “What?”

“It can be broken,” I repeat. “A soulmate bond. Much easier than the blood pact.”

He stares at me like I’ve just spoken in Parseltongue.

I take a breath. “There’s a ritual. Short, simple. If both people acknowledge the bond and then deny it—if they reject each other—then it severs completely. No lingering pull. No magic tying us together. Just… gone.”

Draco is completely still. His hands curl into fists at his sides. “And you’re just telling me this now?”

I nod. “Because you deserved to know.”

His jaw clenches. He’s furious. Conflicted. “Have you done it?”

I hesitate, then shake my head. “No.”

His eyes burn into mine. “Why not?”

I swallow. “Because I don’t want to.”

The air between us feels charged, like a storm about to break.

Draco’s lips part slightly, like he’s going to say something, but then he just exhales sharply and turns away, rubbing his hands over his face.

I watch him for a moment before speaking again. “But if you want to… I’ll do it.”

His shoulders stiffen.

I stand, stepping closer. “If this is what you want, Draco—if you really, truly don’t want this—then I’ll do it with you.”

He doesn’t turn around.

I don’t push him.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally—so softly I almost miss it—

“I don’t know what I want.”

A beat.

“But I don’t want that.”

I stand frozen for a moment, studying his back. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head, slowly at first, then with more conviction. “I can’t.”

Finally, he turns to face me. His expression is raw, stripped of all the usual defenses. “When the blood pact broke—” He stops, inhaling sharply through his nose. “I didn’t know what it was at the time. I didn’t remember. But it—it felt like something inside me died.”

I swallow hard.

Draco presses a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “Like there was a hole left behind, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t fill it.” His voice drops, almost pained. “Still can’t.”

My breath catches.

He lets out a shaky laugh, bitter and quiet. “And now you’re telling me we’re soulmates? And that I could break this one, too?” He looks at me, his gray eyes almost unreadable. “You really think I can do that again?”

My fingers tighten around the edge of my robes. “Draco—”

“I can’t.” His voice is firm, his hands curling into fists. “I won’t.”

My heart pounds against my ribs. “Then we don’t.”

He scoffs, looking away. “It’s not that simple.”

“But it is,” I say softly. “If you don’t want to break it, we don’t break it.”

Draco exhales, his whole body tense. He looks at me like he wants to argue, but there’s something else in his eyes, something more vulnerable than I think he realizes.

“You’d be stuck with me.”

“I don’t mind,” I say softly, my hands twitching at my sides. “I never did.”

His jaw clenches. “But I’ve been so terrible to you lately.”

“And it was deserved.”

“So that’s it, then? You’re just okay with that? With me being an arse and ignoring you and fighting with you all the time? Is that what you want?”

“That’s not how it would be.”

He shakes his head. “How do you know that?”

I step forward, only inches away from him. “Because I know you.”

“So—what? You just forgive me?”

“Yes,” I breathe, resisting the urge to get even closer. “I just got you back, Dray. I can’t lose you again.”

He lets out a sharp exhale, like my words physically hit him. “You shouldn’t forgive me,” he snaps, shaking his head. “That’s not how this works.”

I hold his gaze, unshaken. “Then tell me how it does work, Draco.”

His nostrils flare, frustration radiating off him in waves. “You’re supposed to hate me. You’re supposed to scream at me, hex me, something.” His voice is rising now, almost desperate. “I pushed you away. I destroyed everything we had. And you just—what? Let it go?”

I reach for his hand, curling my fingers around his before he can pull away. His breath hitches. “Draco,” I whisper, “I have never been as happy as I was when I was with you.”

His entire body tenses, his fingers twitching in my grasp.

“And I know it was the same for you.”

His throat bobs. He looks at me like I’m unspooling something inside of him, like he wants to run but physically can’t.

“You don’t have to say it,” I continue, my voice steady, my grip firm. “But we both know the truth. And I won’t pretend otherwise just because you think you don’t deserve it.”

His hand squeezes mine before he even realizes he’s doing it.

I take a step closer. “I can’t lose you again.”

He swallows hard, his breathing uneven. His free hand lifts, like he wants to reach for me, to pull me closer. But he stops himself at the last second, his fingers hovering near my waist before he clenches them into a fist.

“I don’t know how to do this again,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to.” I squeeze his hand again. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

His eyes flicker between mine, searching. And then, finally—finally—his fingers untangle from my grip, only to slide up and lace through them properly, deliberately.

My heart stutters in my chest.

Draco exhales shakily, looking down at our hands, then back up at me.

“…There’s still a lot we need to work out.”

“There is.”

“And… we should talk about it.”

I nod. “Then let’s talk about it. As long as you need.”

“You’re in love with Aurélien.”

“No, I’m not.”

He pauses. “I saw you at the party.”

“That was an act.”

Draco furrows his brow. “You’re staying with him this summer.”

“Only if you needed space. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

He steps back just barely. “So you did all that just to get under my skin?”

I chew on my bottom lip, looking away. “Yeah. Kind of.”

He laughs—incredulously—but he laughs. “You arse.”

I shrug, a smile tugging at my lips. “You were getting on my nerves.”

Draco shakes his head before dropping my hand, moving my seat closer to his. “Come on. Let’s talk.”

He settles into his seat and I settle into mine, close enough that our legs press against each other’s. Neither one of us pulls away.

So we sit there and we talk.