The Pact

The days following the trial are vaguely tense; none of us want to outwardly discuss what happened at the end, or the fact that the manor wards are constantly being tripped by nosey journalists and photographers wanting to leech off my sudden good press.

I sigh, drawing the curtains to one of the sitting rooms. “They don’t let up, do they?”

“They won’t for quite some time,” Lucius comments absently, scrawling something out on a piece of parchment. “But they will eventually.”

“Maybe we should make the wards shock them,” Draco chimes, tapping his wand against his knee. “Then they’ll learn.”

Narcissa shakes her head. “I’d rather not give the public another reason to hate us.”

“You were acquitted,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.

Lucius quirks a brow, still too busy with his parchment to pull his attention away from it. “We’ve been a topic of controversy since long before the trial, Y/n. This isn’t new for us.”

“Oh, we know,” Draco laughs. “She had a run in with one of our… shall we say… aggressors at the Ministry.”

“Oh?” Lucius asks, finally looking up. “How do you mean?”

I flush, avoiding looking any of the Malfoys in the eyes. “Things were said. On both sides. But at least I had the good sense to spout off in French.”

Narcissa laughs outwardly. “Oh, dear. I can only imagine.”

“And what, pray tell, did you say?” Lucius hums, tilting his head.

I chew on my lower lip, fixing my hair for something to do with my hands. “I may have told them to go to hell.”

“And?” Draco teases, poking me in the side. “You forgot my favorite part.”

Narcissa quirks a brow, watching me in an amused manner, as does Lucius.

I sigh. “I cannot confirm nor deny that I told him I hoped someone broke his wand and shoved it… somewhere.”

Lucius can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. “You did, did you? My word, you’re just as bad as Narcissa in her younger years.”

“Lucius,” Narcissa scoffs playfully, swatting him in the arm with the Daily Prophet.

Draco snickers. “I don’t know, Mother, I think Y/n might be worse.”

“I would never be so crude,” Narcissa insists, though there’s a distinct glint of amusement in her eyes.

“Oh, certainly not,” Lucius muses dryly. “You were always such a delicate thing, weren’t you?”

I smile slightly, glancing toward the window again. The reporters are still out there, of course, lurking beyond the wards, hoping for a glimpse of something scandalous. I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of their presence.

“So,” Narcissa says after a moment, “your birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”

I blink, caught slightly off guard. “Oh. I suppose it is.”

“You suppose?” Draco echoes. “It’s not exactly something you forget.”

I shrug. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, now’s the time to do so,” Narcissa says lightly. “We ought to celebrate, don’t you think?”

Lucius inclines his head. “You are still staying with us, and we would be remiss if we did not acknowledge the occasion.”

I glance between them, feeling a strange warmth at the casual way they include me—as if it’s natural that they would do something for my birthday, that it isn’t even a question. It’s such a stark contrast to how my own family handled these things. My mother, if she remembered, would probably give me something expensive but impersonal, and my father… well, he had his own way of doing things, but was rarely around long enough to see them through.

I hesitate for a moment before saying, “Actually… would you mind if we had something here? At the Manor?”

Draco’s brows lift slightly, as if surprised I’d actually request something. “A party?”

“Yes. Nothing too extravagant,” I add quickly. “I just… I’d rather not deal with my mother.”

Something in the air shifts at that, a flicker of understanding passing between the Malfoys.

Lucius considers me for a moment before nodding. “I see no issue with that. It’s been some time since we hosted anything of the sort.”

Narcissa smiles, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from my shoulder in a rare display of motherly affection. “I think that sounds like a lovely idea, dear.”

Draco, however, smirks. “Oh, I don’t know… you, not wanting extravagance? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

I swat his arm. “I meant I don’t need fireworks and dragons, Malfoy.”

He scoffs. “Well, there goes my plans.”

I roll my eyes, but the warmth in my chest lingers.

I’m having my birthday at Malfoy Manor. And, for once, I actually feel like celebrating.

Narcissa hums thoughtfully, moving to sit next to her husband. “This will be your sweet sixteen. You must at least allow us a little bit of creative freedom with the décor.”

“Oh, Merlin,” I sigh with a smile. “You really don’t have to do anything crazy.”

“Nonsense,” Narcissa smiles, waving me off. “A sixteenth is an important milestone to celebrate. I’ll handle the planning, of course—I just need you to work up a guest list.”

I shake my head, though I can’t muster anything past vaguely flustered. “I don’t have many people to invite, honestly. Just Aurélien, of course—Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Neville and Hannah, maybe Luna, and Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. Does that sound right, Dray?”

Draco nods, counting people off on his fingers. “You’re just missing the girl Weasley.  But… I think that covers just about everyone you talk to, yes.”

“Well, if you invite the children, you invite the family,” Narcissa tuts, already jotting things down on a spare scrap of parchment.

“I—what? That’ll be so many people,” I say, halfway in disbelief.

Lucius groans under his breath. “Must we invite the Weasleys?”

“Well, if you invite Ronald and Ginevra, you invite the entire Weasley brood,” Narcissa points out, tapping her quill against her chin. “It’s just how they are.”

I glance at Lucius, who looks like he’d rather swallow glass. “You don’t have to talk to them.”

He exhales sharply. “I’ll tolerate them. Barely.”

Draco smirks. “Oh, this will be fun.”

I roll my eyes, but before I can say anything, another thought strikes me. “Oh! I suppose I should mention… Sirius Black has guardianship of Harry now.”

Draco blinks, his smirk fading into something resembling intrigue. “That went through, then?”

“Sure did. Been official for about a week now. Harry’s ecstatic,” I confirm.

Narcissa’s quill stills against the parchment. There’s a brief flicker of something across her face—nostalgia, maybe, or something softer—but she recovers quickly, sitting up straighter. “Then you must invite him.”

Lucius’ brow twitches. “Must we?”

“He’s family,” Narcissa says simply, but her voice is a little distant. “And if we invite Sirius, we must invite Remus Lupin as well.”

At this, Draco snickers. “Of course we must.”

I glance at him. “You sound entertained.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Draco says, stretching an arm over the back of the couch. “Everyone in the family knows Sirius and Lupin were an item. They never confirmed it, but it was obvious. Part of the reason why Walburga disowned him.”

I blink at the revelation but his tone isn’t lost on me. “You just want to meet your long-lost cousin, don’t you?”

Draco shrugs. “I want to see if he’s actually as unhinged as people say. And, well—” he glances at his mother. “He’s still a Black.”

Narcissa doesn’t say anything, but there’s something almost wistful in her expression. I get the distinct impression she’s not opposed to seeing Sirius again, even if she won’t outright admit it.

Lucius sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And if we invite Lupin—who was once a professor at Hogwarts—then we must also invite Severus.”

Draco groans. “Why? Just to make the night extra insufferable?”

“He was your professor as well,” Lucius reminds him. “And my colleague. I won’t have him thinking we’re playing favorites.”

I suppress a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure Snape would be thrilled to attend a gathering full of Gryffindors, former Marauders, and Weasleys.”

“Marauders?” Draco echoes, looking incredulous.

I laugh, shaking my head. “You know that map Harry has? It’s called the Marauder’s Map. His father’s friend group literally came up with a name for themselves.”

Lucius smirks slightly. “Well. He’s always had such an affectionate relationship with them.”

Draco cackles, and even Narcissa lets out a breath of laughter. “I can’t imagine how that’s going to work out. Severus hates them. The whole group.”

I shake my head, glancing at the parchment. “So, at this rate—what started as a small birthday gathering has now turned into a full-blown inter-house diplomatic summit featuring a potential Black family reunion and the greatest Snape-Marauder confrontation since the 70s?”

Draco grins. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

“It’s settled, then.” Narcissa stands, already looking like she’s planning things in her head. “I’ll settle on a date and send out the invitations. For the color scheme, I’m thinking navy and silver. What do you think, dear?”

I smile. I half expected green and black, but she’s taking my own tastes into account—and, no doubt, the pallet of my Conseil uniform.

“How about navy and gold?” Draco offers, something soft painting his features. “Like sunshine?”

It takes all of my self control not to melt on the spot. Or snog him senseless. Either or.

Lucius hums. “Why not all three?”

“I hadn’t even considered that,” I reply, tilting my head. “If we get the tones right, that could be really pretty. Like the sun, the moon, and the night sky.”

Narcissa perks up suddenly. “I’ve got it. There’s a lunar eclipse in a few days. That’s your actual birthday, too. We could invite the guests over to view it at the close of the party.”

“I’d… love that, actually,” I smile. “But isn’t this a lot to pull together in a few days?”

“Not to worry, mum’s an expert with these sorts of things,” Draco chuckles, lacing our fingers together. “It’ll be perfect.”

Narcissa nods, handing me the parchment with some of the names. “Yes, it’ll pull together nicely. Do me a favor and write down the family names of all the attendees and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Give me just a few minutes.”

With that, she pats Lucius on the shoulder, and he takes it as some sort of signal to follow her. They walk out of the sitting room and down the corridor, and if I’m not mistaken, it sounds like they’re headed to the ballroom.

“So much for something small,” I laugh, accio’ing one of my enchanted quills from my desk upstairs. It flies into my hand with surprising accuracy.

Draco lets me have my hand back to write, choosing to wrap his arm around my shoulders instead. “It’ll be fun. Believe me.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

I start to scrawl out the names as I remember them—Abbott, Bordeau, Black, Potter, Lupin, Lovegood, Longbottom—lots of L names, I muse—Weasley, Granger, Parkinson, Nott, and Zabini. I tack on Snape at Lucius’ request, check it all over, and then hand it to Draco to double check.

“Looks good,” he smiles, before taking the quill out of my hand and a new piece of parchment from the desk. “But I’m going to redo it. Alphabetically.”

“You’re so pretentious, honestly,” I snort, though I can’t hide the affection in my voice.

He smiles. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” I agree, kissing his cheek.

~

Despite the eclipse being a main event, Draco schemed with Narcissa to come up with a different, more specific theme: Brighter Days Ahead.

I insisted that it didn’t need to be themed, hardly needed to be anything at all—but of course, Narcissa waved me off with a fond smile.

The ballroom is decked out beautifully, the chandeliers shimmering and the walls practically dripping with gold and silver. There’s a lot of celestial imagery around, and I mean a lot. Emblems of suns and moons are littering the room, with silver star shaped confetti floating down from the ceiling at timed intervals.

I wasn’t sure how it would all come together, mixing silver and gold—but I love it.

There’s an almost ethereal glow to the entire ballroom, as if the very air is laced with enchantment. Tiny, floating orbs of light drift lazily near the high ceiling, mimicking the twinkle of distant stars, while a charmed golden sun sculpture slowly rotates above the center of the room, casting warm, shifting rays that play across the polished marble floor. Every now and then, a ripple of silver light cascades across the walls, creating the illusion of moonlight filtering through a nighttime haze.

The grand windows are enchanted to reflect not the dimming light of the evening outside but an endless, starry expanse, as if we are celebrating in the very heart of the cosmos. A delicate mist, infused with a soft, jasmine-like scent, curls around the edges of the room, its silken tendrils shifting in time with the quiet orchestral music that sways in the background.

Round tables, draped in deep navy tablecloths, are arranged in a way that encourages both elegance and conversation. Some have golden place settings, others silver, and in the center of each table is an intricate floral arrangement—white roses intertwined with golden marigolds and tiny blue forget-me-nots, all charmed to shimmer faintly in the dim lighting.

Against the far wall, a refreshment table is laden with extravagant sweets and drinks. There’s a magnificent three-tiered cake, decorated with constellations in glistening sugar and a tiny golden sun resting atop. Trays of delicate pastries—eclairs dusted with edible stardust, macarons in shades of deep blue and soft gold—are arranged alongside an assortment of glittering champagne flutes, filled with bubbling golden nectar that subtly shifts color under the light.

Draco stands beside me, watching my reaction with something suspiciously close to smugness. “Not extravagant enough for you?” he teases, nudging my shoulder.

I exhale a breath of laughter, shaking my head. “It’s… perfect. It’s like stepping into a dream.”

A dream of brighter days ahead.

Narcissa, watching from across the room, gives me a small, knowing smile, and I can’t help but return it.

The pair soon usher me off to my room, telling me to finish getting ready before the guests arrive. I laugh all the way up the stairs, pulling out the dress Narcissa bought me for the occasion—an early birthday present, she said.

In keeping with the theme, she got me something opulent but understated. A dress so dark blue it’s nearly black, with constellations hand embroidered across the fabric. I mix the metals of my jewelry, not caring if it matches, because the pieces themselves make me incandescently happy.

Two of the bracelets Draco got me—the silver tap bracelet, and the golden charm one. Aury’s star pin, tucked carefully into the dip of the dresses neckline. And, of course, the golden sun hairpiece Draco bought me for Christmas.

I take my time getting ready, adjusting each piece of jewelry with care. The bracelets sit comfortably against my wrist, one silver, one gold—opposites, but somehow perfect together. Aurélien’s star pin catches the light where it rests just above my heart, and Draco’s sun hairpiece gleams as I secure it into place, its delicate rays tucked into the soft waves of my hair. I glance at myself in the mirror, half-expecting to feel out of place in something so elegant, but… I don’t.

I just look happy.

With a final deep breath, I step toward the door—only to find it won’t budge.

I blink. Twist the handle again. Nothing.

A slow realization creeps over me.

They locked me in.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath, rapping my knuckles against the door. “Draco? Narcissa? Is this necessary?”

No response.

I cross my arms, debating whether to try and unlock it myself or simply blast it open with a well-aimed spell. But before I can decide, I hear footsteps outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock clicking open.

The door swings inward, and Draco stands there, dressed sharply in a midnight blue suit, his silver cufflinks catching the light. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. “Thought you might try to make a run for it.”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously. Hence the lock.”

“Hence the lock,” he agrees, then steps back to let me pass. “Come on. They’re all waiting for you.”

Something in his voice—something softer, fonder—makes me pause. I glance up at him, searching his expression, and find that smug amusement has melted into something else entirely. Admiration, maybe. Or something dangerously close to awe.

“You look…” He exhales, eyes tracing the constellations embroidered into my dress. “Like you stepped out of the night sky.”

My breath catches in my throat. He’s been saying things like this more and more often lately, and each time, it’s harder to pretend my heart isn’t about to give itself away entirely.

I manage a quiet, “Thank you,” and he offers me his arm.

“Shall we?”

I nod, sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow.

He leads me down the grand staircase toward the waiting guests, toward the shimmering gold and silver of the ballroom. We stop short of the doors, and he pulls me into one of the most gentle hugs he’s ever given me.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, pulling back to pepper my face with kisses.

I can’t help but giggle as I melt into him. “Thank you, you’re so—quit!” I laugh, pushing his face away from the crook of my neck. “That tickles.”

He relents, if only to appease me, but that doesn’t stop him from stealing one last kiss. He plants his lips on mine, and I can feel his smile.

When he pulls away, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, then offers me his arm once more. “Ready, love?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He grins brightly, knocks on the door, and it swings open a beat later.

I gape at the sheer amount of people in the ballroom, momentarily stunned, as Lucius clears his throat. “Ladies and gentleman, we are proud to present the wizarding world’s newest sixteen year old: Y/n Lavigné.”

The room erupts in applause, a sea of elegantly dressed witches and wizards turning to face me. Golden chandeliers bathe the ballroom in warm light, casting a soft glow over the polished marble floors and the glittering décor. My heart stutters in my chest—not from nerves, necessarily, but from the sheer weight of the moment. The attention. The expectations.

I stand frozen for half a second, my fingers tightening around Draco’s arm. He feels it. Of course he does. And, as if sensing the sudden shift in my mood, he leans in, just enough for me to hear him over the applause.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, voice steady. “You belong here.”

I swallow hard but nod, allowing him to lead me forward. The crowd begins to part as we step into the ballroom, and I can already pick out familiar faces—Narcissa, smiling proudly from across the room; Blaise and Theo, standing near the refreshment table, looking effortlessly composed; Pansy, who’s practically bouncing on her heels.

And then, of course, there’s Aurélien.

He’s lounging near the back of the ballroom, looking every bit the charming French aristocrat he pretends not to be. His curls are perfectly tousled, and he lifts his glass in a silent toast when our eyes meet. He winks, and I bite back a laugh.

Lucius steps forward then, his expression unreadable as he lifts a glass of champagne. The room quiets.

“A celebration is in order,” he announces smoothly. “For sixteen years, the Lavigné name has stood for power, prestige, and tradition. And tonight, we honor the young witch who carries that legacy forward.” His gaze flickers to me, sharp and assessing. “To Y/n Lavigné.”

The room echoes his toast, glasses raised in my honor. I murmur my thanks as Narcissa appears at my side, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.

“You look beautiful, dear,” she whispers, her voice warm. “Enjoy your night.”

I exhale, letting the tension drain from my shoulders.

Finally the music swells, and the real party begins.

Draco keeps his hand on my waist, guiding me toward the dance floor as the first notes of a waltz fill the air. “I suppose I have to open the dancing with you, birthday girl.”

“Oh? And here I thought you hated waltzing.”

He smirks. “Only when I don’t have the right partner.”

My breath hitches, but before I can dwell on his words, he twirls me effortlessly into the first steps of the dance. The world narrows to the space between us, the warmth of his touch, the glint of something unreadable in his silver eyes.

For the first time all evening, I let myself forget about the crowd, about entertaining, about expectations.

I simply exist in this moment—with him.

We flow together like water, an unbreakable bond and an unrelenting trust holding us together. He’s always been good at formal dancing, and I knew that—now, I’m just glad I get to be his partner.

The song ends with a crescendo and he decides to show off, lifting me by the waist and spinning me around. Memories of his winning quidditch match flood my senses as he sets me back down on my feet, an easy grin on his face.

“And that,” he says, pressing a kiss to my lips, “concludes our dance, love. Now go talk to your friends. They’re waiting for you.”

I look behind me and see smaller clusters of my friends intermingling, but they all look up at me every so often. It appears Draco is right.

I nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll come find you later, okay?”

He waves me off, already eyeing Blaise like he’s about to make a beeline for him. “Don’t worry about it. If you want me, just tap.”

With that, he does, in fact, make his way over to Blaise, leaving me to decide who to talk to first. I settle on Hannah, Neville, Luna, and Aurélien, who are standing in a small group just a few feet away from the snack table, listening to Aury tell an animated story with his hands.

“Hope you don’t mind me cutting in,” I quip, tapping Aury on the shoulder. He whips around to face me, already grinning at the sound of my voice.

“There you are, soleil!” He wraps me up in a bear hug, before backing up to have a look at me. “Well, aren’t you just a vision in blue?”

I blush just slightly, giving him a twirl. “Careful. Flattery will get you everywhere with me.”

He chuckles, draping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into the group. “Well, you know me. Bon anniversaire, étoile. I was just telling our friends about the mishap at your thirteenth birthday.”

Hannah laughs. “Didn’t know you had such an affinity for frogs.”

“It was supposed to be fairytale themed,” I groan, hiding my face. “Not my fault the party planner changed the theme to princesses kissing frogs.”

Neville stifles a laugh behind his hand. “Did you at least find your Prince?”

“She already had one,” Aurélien says with a flourish, taking a bow.

“You are quite charming,” Luna lilts, giving him a dreamy smile.

Aurélien straightens with a playful wink. “Ah, but of course. A prince must always be charming.”

I roll my eyes, nudging him with my shoulder. “More like insufferable.”

“And yet,” he says, squeezing my shoulder lightly, “you still adore me.”

Hannah shakes her head fondly. “I can’t tell if you two bicker more or flirt more.”

Neville hums. “It’s a fine line.”

I huff a laugh. “Aury doesn’t flirt—he just exists dramatically.”

Aurélien gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “Soleil, you wound me.”

Luna tilts her head. “But you do have a certain presence. A bit like a peacock.”

Aurélien perks up at that. “Peacocks are majestic creatures. I accept this comparison.”

I glance around, taking in the party. The ballroom is alive with movement—twirling figures on the dance floor, bursts of laughter from the drink table, Pansy leading a scandalous game of truth or dare in the corner. Somewhere near the bar, Theo and Harry are deep in discussion, probably about something ridiculous.

And then there’s Draco, standing with Blaise and Ron, sipping from a glass of something dark. I can feel the withering gaze of Lucius, clearly displeased his son is buddying up with a Weasley, but Draco takes it in stride, probably on purpose. His gaze flickers to me for just a second before he looks away, but it’s enough.

I know that look.

A challenge. A dare. An invitation.

I take a sip of my drink and turn back to my friends, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

Aurélien is still recounting another ridiculous story from Beauxbatons, and I half-listen, but my mind is elsewhere.

On Draco.

Aurélien nudges me. “You’ve gone quiet, étoile. Thinking about your prince?”

I smirk, swirling my drink in my hand. “Maybe.”

Hannah raises a brow. “Which one?”

Neville snorts into his drink, and Luna hums knowingly.

Aurélien just laughs, ever the showman, and raises his glass. “To the birthday girl, then. And to whatever trouble she’s about to cause.”

I clink my glass against his, shooting Draco one last glance before turning back to my friends.

Let the games begin.

“You lot… come with me,” I smirk, gesturing for them to follow.

“What for?” Hannah asks, sensing my mischief.

I glance back at her over my shoulder, leading them towards Pansy’s group in the corner. “We’re gonna have some fun.”

“What kind of fun?” Neville asks, clearly apprehensive.

I chuckle under my breath, shooting Draco a smirk. “You’ll see.”

We sidle up next to the other group and I clear my throat. Pansy turns to see me, her face lighting up just a touch.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the birthday girl herself,” she smirks, standing to give me air kisses. “Come to join our game?”

She gestures to my friends who are watching with rapt attention. Ginny, Mione, the Weasley twins, and Harry and Theo, who evidently made their way over here from the bar.

“Actually,” I start, my face morphing into something mischievous, “I need some help. From all of you.”

Pansy raises a perfectly manicured brow. “Help? With what, exactly?”

I glance around, making sure none of the adults are in earshot, before leaning in conspiratorially. “A little… chaos.”

That gets their attention.

Fred and George perk up immediately, identical grins spreading across their faces. “Oh, now you have our full attention.”

Harry folds his arms, smirking. “This should be good.”

Aurélien throws an arm around me, looking positively delighted. “Soleil, I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Of course,” I grin, slipping out of his hold. “Now listen closely. I’ve compiled a list of our esteemed guests—” I gesture toward the older purebloods scattered across the ballroom “—who could use a little… humbling.”

Ginny tilts her head. “Humbling, or humiliation?”

“Semantics.”

Luna smiles dreamily. “Oh, I love pranks.”

Theo snickers. “You lot are going to get us killed.”

Pansy waves him off. “Please, like we’d get caught. This is her party.” She crosses her arms. “Alright, Lavigné, who’s on the list?”

I grin, excitement bubbling in my chest. “Our prime targets: Lucius Malfoy, Snape, Mrs. Parkinson, Mrs. Zabini… and Sirius Black.”

That gets a reaction.

“You want to prank your boyfriend’s father?” Theo cackles. “I admire the audacity.”

“And Snape?” Neville gapes. “Are you trying to die?”

Harry, meanwhile, is stuck on Sirius. “Hold on—why is my godfather on the list?”

I smirk. “Reconnaissance. I need to gauge his reaction. If he gets mad, I’ll know he’s all bark and no bite. If he laughs, he’s one of us.”

Fred and George exchange looks. “We’ll handle him.”

“Brilliant,” I say, then turn back to the group. “We’ll divide and conquer. The goal isn’t anything too serious—just enough to liven things up. Make them sweat a little.”

Pansy grins, clearly on board. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

I tap my chin, then point to each person in turn. “Aurélien, you’re with me. We’ll handle Lucius.”

He bows dramatically. “It would be an honor.”

“Hannah and Neville, you take Snape—”

Neville pales. “Oh no.”

I pat his shoulder. “Have faith. All it will take is something small—simple, even.”

“Define simple.”

I ignore that.

“Ginny, Pansy, and Theo—steal Ron away from Blaise and Draco. Then your job is Mrs. Parkinson and Mrs. Zabini. Make them miserable.”

Pansy looks positively delighted. “Gladly.”

“Harry, Fred, and George—you have Sirius.”

Fred cracks his knuckles. “Leave it to us.”

Harry shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “This is ridiculous.”

“But fun,” I correct.

He sighs. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

I grin.

“Let’s cause some trouble.”

We break off into our assigned teams, and I have the absolute pleasure of watching new groups of my friends scheme with each other, planning how to liven things up. I turn to Aury, a devilish grin on my face.

“So. Mr. Malfoy, hm?” he chuckles, scanning the ballroom. “Dare I ask why?”

I shrug, tucking my wand into my perfectly done hair. “My new favorite hobby is bothering him. He gets annoyed so easily—it’s so much fun.”

Aurélien chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re playing a dangerous game, étoile.”

I smirk. “Life’s more fun that way.”

He hums in agreement, then nudges me. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

I scan the ballroom, easily spotting Lucius near the drink table, talking to a cluster of equally self-important purebloods. He’s standing tall, chin lifted ever so slightly, that signature Malfoy air of superiority practically radiating off of him. He’s perfectly composed, pristine as always—too pristine.

I’m about to change that.

“I need a distraction,” I say, tapping my fingers against my glass. “Something subtle. Just enough to get his attention away for a few seconds.”

Aurélien grins, already intrigued. “And what, pray tell, are you planning to do in those few seconds?”

I tilt my head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Turn his hair bright pink.”

Aurélien bursts into laughter, quickly covering his mouth to stifle the sound. “Oh, you are devious.”

I feign innocence. “Who, me?”

He shakes his head, still grinning. “Fine. Consider him distracted.”

With that, he straightens his jacket and strides toward Lucius with all the confidence in the world. I watch as he effortlessly inserts himself into the conversation, smoothly interrupting with some charming anecdote.

Lucius, predictably, looks unimpressed at first—until Aurélien says something that makes one of the other men laugh. Curiosity flickers across Lucius’ face, and though he remains as stiff as ever, he’s listening now.

Perfect.

I take a slow sip of my drink, appearing completely at ease, and then—without lifting my wand—I flick my fingers subtly at my side, channeling my magic. It’s a simple spell, really, one I’ve been able to do since I was young. I focus on Lucius’ sleek platinum hair, imagining it shifting into a vibrant shade of pink.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then, it works.

Lucius Malfoy, the picture of pureblood prestige, now has hair the same shade as a sugar quill.

It takes everything in me not to laugh out loud.

I catch Aurélien’s eye from across the room, and he sees it immediately—his lips twitch, but to his credit, he doesn’t react beyond that. He just keeps talking, letting the spell settle.

Now, all we have to do is wait for him to notice.

And oh, when he does—it’s going to be glorious.

Across the room, I hear offended gasps. When I turn to find the source, I see Pansy and Blaises’ mums frantically trying to finite a spell placed on their dresses to make them look like they’re on fire—though, of course, it’s not actually burning anything. Just a distraction, really.

Ginny, Ron, Pansy, and Theo feign surprise, though they turn to look at me and give me a cheeky thumbs up. I can’t help but laugh.

“My word, what is this?” Lucius says sharply, making his way towards the distraught women.

“Oh, Lucius—help, please!” Mrs. Zabini shrieks, swatting at her dress.

Mrs. Parkinson is frantically waving her wand, and as soon as she cancels the spell, she stares at Lucius with thinly veiled surprise.

“What an interesting new style,” she says primly, studying his hair.

Lucius frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mrs. Zabini, still patting at her perfectly unharmed dress, finally looks up and lets out a startled gasp. “Oh—oh my.”

Aurélien, to his credit, manages to keep a straight face. “Monsieur Malfoy, I must say, you wear it well.”

Lucius’ frown deepens. He glances at the other purebloods, who are now trying—and failing—to stifle their amusement. His jaw tightens.

“What,” he says coolly, “exactly are you all gawking at?”

The Weasley twins, who have somehow materialized nearby, are absolutely vibrating with barely contained laughter. Fred leans toward George. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

George nods sagely. “Bubblegum brand ambassador.”

Fred snaps his fingers. “No, no—fairy princess in disguise.”

Lucius hears them.

His sharp glare cuts to the twins, but before he can say anything, he finally sees it.

The reflection.

In the grand mirror along the ballroom wall, staring back at him, is the great Lucius Malfoy—with bright, brilliantly pink hair.

For a second, no one breathes.

And then—

“WHAT,” Lucius bellows, his voice echoing through the ballroom.

I have to bite my lip to keep from cackling, because Merlin’s beard, this is better than I imagined. His expression goes through several phases—shock, disbelief, utter horror—before he jerks his wand out, muttering counterspells under his breath.

Nothing happens.

I may have made the spell a bit resistant to immediate reversal.

Just for fun.

Gasps and murmurs ripple through the guests as Lucius turns slowly to face the room, his bright pink locks almost glowing under the chandelier lights. His furious silver gaze sweeps over the crowd, searching for the culprit.

I school my expression into one of polite confusion, tilting my head innocently.

Aurélien, now standing beside me, murmurs under his breath, “You, my dear, are a menace.”

I grin. “Why, thank you.”

Lucius, meanwhile, is livid. “Who,” he demands, voice like ice, “did this?”

The Weasley twins absolutely lose it. Fred has to lean on George for support, and across the room, Theo is very obviously hiding his face in his drink. Pansy and Ginny exchange amused looks, and even Harry looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying this moment.

Then—just when I think it can’t get any better—Sirius Black notices.

From his spot near the bar, he howls with laughter, doubling over with amusement. “Oh—oh, this is fantastic. Lucius, mate, you ever thought about keeping it? Really brightens up the whole ‘doom and gloom’ aesthetic you’ve got going on.”

Lucius’ wand snaps toward him. “Shut. Up.”

Sirius just laughs harder.

I casually take a sip of my drink, turning to Aurélien with a satisfied smirk. “Mission accomplished.”

Snape storms towards his colleague, pulling out his wand. “Do be quiet, Black. You always were immature. Finite incantatem.”

As he tries to rid Lucius of his pink hair, the spell doesn’t work. When he taps his wand against his palm impatiently, Remus Lupin—standing right next to Sirius—taps Snape on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, Severus, but I do believe you ought to be casting that for yourself.”

Snape turns to look at him, pure hatred in his eyes. “And why, exactly, would I do that?”

Sirius grins sharply. “See for yourself.”

Snape narrows his eyes at Sirius, then catches sight of something in his peripheral vision—something that makes his entire body go rigid.

His own reflection.

And there, in the grand mirror beside Lucius, stands Severus Snape—his white, nearly translucent skin now a violent shade of neon green, and his abnormally large nose somehow even larger.

A strangled noise escapes him. His wand hand twitches.

“Oh, this is priceless,” Sirius cackles, absolutely beside himself. “Severus Snape, looking like a Slytherin mascot. I daresay it suits you!”

Remus, though clearly amused, at least tries to be diplomatic. “Severus, perhaps you should—”

But Snape isn’t listening.

He whirls around, black robes billowing dramatically—though less dramatically now that he resembles a human potions ingredient—and glares daggers at the entire room. His face is twisted into something truly murderous.

Lucius, standing beside him, is still fuming, but now that he’s no longer the only victim, his pride forces him to straighten up. “Fix. This. Now.”

Snape points his wand at his own hair and snarls, “Finite Incantatem.”

Nothing.

Snape’s nostrils flare. His grip tightens on his wand. “Finite Incantatem.”

Still nothing.

The Weasley twins are on the floor at this point. Fred is practically wheezing. “Oh—oh, this is too good!”

George wipes at his eyes. “You think it’ll last all night?”

I hum, tapping a finger against my chin. “Hard to say. It’s quite a potent bit of magic.”

Aurélien leans against me, smirking. “Soleil, you are a vision of chaos.”

Snape’s black eyes sweep over the room like a predator tracking its prey. “Who did this?”

I bat my lashes innocently. “Oh dear, Professor, do you think there’s some rogue magic at play?”

Pansy—who is absolutely thriving off the chaos—chimes in with faux concern. “Perhaps it’s a jinx from someone truly talented.”

Snape’s glare sharpens. He knows. Or at least, suspects. But without proof, all he can do is seethe.

I make a mental note to take Hannah and Neville out for dinner soon.

Lucius clenches his jaw and crosses his arms, practically vibrating with rage. “Whoever is responsible will pay.”

Sirius, still grinning ear to ear, claps a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Best party I’ve ever been to.”

Across the room, my friends exchange barely restrained laughter, and I allow myself the smallest sip of my drink before turning back to the chaos I’ve created.

And then, just before the chaos can die down, it happens.

Sirius Black starts turning into a woman.

Harry and the twins fist bump each other subtly just as Remus Lupin stops being able to contain himself, pointing and howling with laughter at Sirius.

Sirius catches sight of his reflection in the grand mirror and freezes.

His sharp features soften, his stubble vanishes, and his hair grows even longer—thick and dark, cascading past his shoulders. His robes shift slightly to accommodate a more feminine frame.

For a moment, there is silence.

Then—

“What in Merlin’s name—?!”

Sirius’ voice is higher now, but still unmistakably his, and the sheer outrage in his tone sends Remus into full-body, gasping laughter.

The Weasley twins are dying. Fred clutches at his side while George practically sinks against Harry for support.

Harry, looking far too pleased with himself, just shrugs. “You always did say you were prettier than my dad, Sirius. Now you get to prove it.”

Sirius whirls on him, his long, wild hair dramatically flipping in the process. “Harry James Potter.” His narrowed eyes flash. “You did this?”

Harry raises his hands in faux innocence. “Who, me?”

Sirius glares harder, then pauses—because the motion of his own hair shifting seems to startle him. He catches another glance at himself in the mirror, hesitates, and—

He turns his head to the side.

Flicks his hair back.

Tilts his chin up and appraises his new reflection with a look that is suspiciously thoughtful.

Remus, wiping tears from his eyes, groans. “Oh no.”

Sirius turns back to them, smirking. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He glances down at himself. “Not bad.”

Harry looks horrified. “That was not the intended reaction.”

Sirius strikes an exaggerated pose. “Are you sure? Because, honestly, I think this is your best prank yet.”

The twins look between each other, impressed. “He’s taking this remarkably well.”

Sirius grins, flipping his hair again. “Of course I am. You think a little gender swap is enough to rattle me?” He turns to Lucius and Snape, who are still struggling with their hair. “This, gentlemen, is how you handle a prank with dignity.”

Lucius looks ready to commit murder.

Snape, still fuming, deadpans, “You are not helping.”

Sirius just winks.

I can’t breathe.

Aurélien is practically leaning on me at this point, laughing so hard he’s shaking. “Mon dieu, this is—this is perfection.”

I take another slow sip of my drink, utterly pleased with myself.

“What the bloody hell did you do?”

I turn to see Draco with a menacing grin, leaning down to whisper in my ear. Blaise is right behind him, covering his smile with his hand.

I shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Draco shakes his head, trying to stifle his laughter every time he looks at his father. “This is priceless. You’re too good. Should I be worried?”

“Only if you get on her bad side,” Blaise chimes in, high-fiving Aurélien. “I knew you had some snake in you, little badger.”

Pureblood society needed this.

Happy birthday to me.

~

Narcissa leads the entire party out to the gardens to watch the eclipse with poised efficiency. The prank spells have long worn off by the time we’re all sprawled out on the lawn, staring at the sky.

Sirius, Harry, and Remus left early, with Remus muttering something about a potion and Sirius nodding and saying his goodbyes to Narcissa and Draco; I’ve rarely seen her so soft. Harry gave me a hug and told me to owl him if I ever wanted to come visit for a while. I sent him off with a bag full of hors d’oeuvres.

The Weasleys left, too—Arthur said it was because he worked early in the morning, but Draco and I think he just didn’t want to suffer through Lucius’ bad attitude any longer. Understandable, really. They went home with plenty of snacks, too, and Ron and Ginny each gave me a present before Ginny basically demanded I come visit soon. Apparently, she’s tired of being one of the only girls in the house. Fair enough, honestly.

Neville and his gran took off about an hour after the great prank massacre, but his gran personally thanked me for my service to the wizarding world (whatever that means) and said I was welcome in her home anytime. The Abbotts, of course, echoed the same sentiment. Hannah gave me two gifts and a batch of cookies before stepping into the floo.

That laves us with the Bordeau’s, Zabini’s, Parkinson’s, Hermione and Theo—those two came alone. Us teens are in a cluster near Narcissa’s nice rose bushes, and the adults are off near the edge of the lawn. Something warms in my chest when I see Narcissa and Lucius talking with Geneviève and Étienne, neither party seeming uncomfortable or out of place. What more could I ask for, really?

Blaise, Theo, and Aury are in a smaller cluster to my left, and Hermione and Pansy are on my right. Draco is sitting down on the grass (despite his protests about his fancy suit) and my head is in his lap, looking up at the stars.

“Pretty tonight, isn’t it?” Hermione breathes, leaning back on her hands.

Pansy nods. “Always is. I swear, the stars are brighter near Draco’s manor.”

“Maybe the constellations feel indebted to the Blacks since they’re all so obsessed with them,” I quip, earning a playful scoff from Draco.

“You must admit, constellation names are very elegant.” He strokes my hair, trying his best to seem annoyed, but it falls flat. I just giggle.

I stare at him from the ground, a soft smile tugging at my lips. “Show me the constellations again.”

Pansy groans. “Salazar, don’t encourage him. He’s such an astronomy nerd.”

“Shush, Pans. Maybe I like it. Ever thought of that?” I shoot back, nudging her with my foot.

“Oh, here she goes, sucking up to her boyfriend again.”

Hermione chuckles, leaning back farther. “Technically they’re engaged, so he’s her fiancé.”

“Whatever,” Pansy scoffs.

“I still think it’s weird you two are engaged so young,” Theo chimes in, nudging Draco.

Dray rolls his eyes. “To be fair, it’s not like we had a choice at first, anyway.”

“Even if we weren’t arranged,” I start, waving Theo off, “we would’ve gotten married young anyway. As annoyingly pretentious as it sounds, we’re both ‘purebloods’ so having any express interest in each other would mean our families would have us marry, like, as soon as we came of age.”

“I pity you,” Blaise teases, looking up at the stars. “Draco is insufferable to dorm with. Can’t imagine living with him permanently.”

I can’t help but laugh lightly. “I really don’t mind, honestly. We’re compatible and he’s good to me. I’m perfectly happy with my life right now.”

There’s a brief pause as my words soak in before Aurélien shifts, rustling the grass. “I… don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that, mon étoile.”

“I’ve never been able to,” I reply softly, tracing circles on Draco’s forearm. “There was always something dark looming over my head—my mother, my training, the war—that made it feel like I was drowning. But now that it’s all gone, I can breathe again.”

“You know,” Blaise starts, “if you’re no contact with your mother now, you probably aren’t still arranged to be married. It would be up to you.”

Draco stiffens, as if afraid of my reply, but I shake my head. “No. My mind is made up. I’m happy. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“That’s the only thing that matters to me,” Draco hums, moving to caress my cheek. I can’t help but smile as I lean into his touch.

“Now that the Dark Lord is out of our hair, our biggest worry is going to be scoring well on our NEWTs,” Pansy chimes in, laying back with an exasperated sigh.

Hermione perks up. “Actually, since you mention it—”

“Mione,” I cut her off, patting her knee, “I love you, but I’m not listening to any study tables until school starts up again.”

“Hey, you love her but not us?” Theo mock whines.

I laugh. “I love all of you. You know that.”

“What about me?” Draco asks, feigning offense.

A blissful grin spreads across my face. “I love you most of all.”

He nods, satisfied, before leaning down to kiss me. Soft and fleeting, but not devoid of the tender care and affection I’m used to from him.

“Oh, gross,” Theo scoffs.

“Shut up, Nott. You’re just mad Harry left early,” I shoot back, earning a nudge from Draco.

Pansy and Hermione break into giggles, but Theo just groans. “You lot have to quit poking at Harry about that. He doesn’t fancy me.”

“On the contrary, ami,” Aurélien chuckles, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I’m no Cupid, but I know the look of love when I see it.”

“He’s just in denial, I think,” Mione adds, brushing back some of her curly hair. “Give it time.”

Theo covers his face with his hands. “And what makes you think I care about Potter’s sexuality?”

“Oh, please,” Draco scoffs. “We all know you’re pining after him.”

“Yeah, you don’t spend that much time with anyone,” Pansy says, casting lumos and nox over and over for something to do with her hands.

Blaise chuckles, too. “No use trying to deny it, mate.”

Theo groans dramatically and flops backward into the grass, grumbling something about how ridiculous we all are. The conversation drifts into light teasing, halfhearted debates over constellations, and occasional laughter as the sky above us darkens.

Then, the moment arrives.

A black sphere begins its slow crawl across the moon, shrouding the world in an eerie twilight. The conversations die down as we all tilt our heads skyward, transfixed by the celestial event unfolding above us.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione breathes, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aurélien nods. “There’s something humbling about it. Makes you feel small, in a good way.”

Draco hums in agreement, his fingers absentmindedly brushing through my hair. I glance up at him, my heart swelling at the soft expression on his face. He’s always had an affinity for the stars, and I wonder if, in this moment, he feels as though he belongs among them.

As the eclipse reaches its peak, bathing us in an ethereal darkness, I feel Draco shift. His hand slides down to mine, fingers lacing together with practiced ease. Then, with the slightest tug, he coaxes me up from my comfortable spot.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, just for me to hear.

I blink up at him, but the look in his eyes—intense, full of something unspoken—leaves no room for argument. With one last glance at our friends, all enraptured by the sky, I let him pull me to my feet.

We move quietly, Draco leading me through the garden paths with the ease of someone who knows every step by heart. The sound of our friends fades behind us, replaced by the distant chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

“Where are we going?” I ask, though I don’t really mind wherever he takes me.

Draco glances back at me, a small smirk playing at his lips. “You’ll see.”

The path leads us to a more secluded part of the manor grounds, where the hedges rise high, enclosing us in a little pocket of solitude. The eclipse still casts its strange, dusky light over everything, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality.

Draco finally stops beneath a grand cherry blossom tree, its sprawling branches twisting high into the sky. He turns to face me, his hands settling at my waist as he studies me with an unreadable expression.

“Draco?” I whisper, tilting my head.

He exhales softly, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against my hip. “I just… I wanted a moment. Just us.”

Something about the way he says it makes my heart stutter. “We’ve had plenty of moments,” I tease gently, though my voice is softer now.

“Not like this,” he murmurs.

The air between us shifts, charged with something heavy yet weightless all at once. Draco lifts a hand to my cheek, cradling it as if I’m something delicate. The eclipse casts his face in strange shadows, but his eyes remain bright—full of something fierce and raw.

“I meant what I said back there,” he continues. “You being happy is all that matters to me.”

I swallow, leaning into his touch. “And you make me happy, Draco.”

He searches my face, as if committing every inch of me to memory. “Even after everything?”

I nod without hesitation. “Always.”

A breath of relief escapes him, and then he kisses me.

It’s slow, deep, and full of every word he doesn’t say aloud. I melt into him, my hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as he holds me like he never wants to let go.

For a brief moment, nothing else exists. Not the expectations of our families, not the shadows of the past—just us, bathed in the glow of a darkened moon.

When he pulls away, he grins, looking half nervous. “Close your eyes.”

“Why—?”

“Just trust me,” he whispers, kissing my cheek. “Close your eyes.”

I comply with an amused shake of my head, and I hear him pull something out of his suit. I giggle, swaying back and forth on my feet for a moment until he says, “Open.”

When I open my eyes, I blink.

He’s not standing in front of me. He’s down on his knee.

“Draco?” I ask, breathless. “What are you doing?”

“I know we’re set to be married anyway, but you deserve a proper proposal. And a proper ring.”

My eyes focus on the enchanted ring box in his hand—a beautiful engagement ring, encrusted with sapphires around a huge diamond, is sparkling like it’s lit from within.

I can’t get any more words out of my mouth when he smiles, taking my left hand in his. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, but I wanted to wait for the right moment. Y/n Lavigné, you are the most perfect woman I’ve ever met, and you have the most beautiful soul. You’re the love of my life, and I look forward to spending every day of that life with you.”

“Draco,” I breathe, covering my mouth with my free hand.

“You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of in a partner, but more importantly, in a best friend. I’m absolutely certain that forever could never be enough time with you, so I swear to you that I’ll find you in every lifetime, in every universe, and I will love you just as much as I do now. So, my love—will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

A single tear falls down my cheek as I nod, a mangled laugh escaping me. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

I realize both of our hands are shaking as he slips the ring on my finger. It’s a perfect fit.

He stands, the end of the eclipse bathing him in a silver sheen, and I immediately throw my arms around his neck, laughing and crying all the same. “I love you. Merlin, I love you.”

Draco wraps his arms around my waist without hesitation, leaning closer than I can bear. “I love you more.”

With a choked up giggle I plant my lips on his, willing him to understand how I feel without words. I think he understands—no, I know he does.

When he pulls away, he points to the sky. I tilt my head before I hear a loud bang, followed by the distinct fizz of a firework. The sky is suddenly illuminated with bright colors, golds and silvers and greens and blues, and I can’t help but shake my head. “Did you plan that?”

“Maybe,” he replies with a cheeky grin.

“I said no fireworks,” I tease, watching their bright reflections in his eyes.

He just shrugs, brushing my hair out of my face. “For your birthday. You never specified for your proposal.”

I laugh, shaking my head as another firework bursts above us, its shimmering embers falling like scattered stars. “You are absolutely insufferable.”

Draco smirks. “And yet, you just agreed to marry me.”

I roll my eyes but can’t suppress the grin spreading across my face. “I must be mad.”

He hums, fingers tracing lazy circles against my waist. “Madly in love with me, maybe.”

I exhale a breathy laugh, feeling the weight of the ring on my finger—the cool metal, the significance of it. It’s not just the ring itself but everything it represents. A choice. A promise.

I take a step back, tilting my head to study him. The fireworks light up his sharp features in flashes of gold and silver, but it’s the look in his eyes that makes my heart stutter. He looks at me like I’m his whole world.

“Was everyone in on this?” I ask, arching a brow.

Draco chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Mum knew, of course. She helped with the ring. Pansy figured it out—she’s annoyingly perceptive. Theo walked in on me practicing my speech, and I had to bribe Blaise to keep his mouth shut.”

I laugh. “Aurélien?”

Draco scowls. “Absolutely not. He would’ve either tried to beat me to it or make it a grand production.”

“That’s fair,” I agree, grinning.

He glances at my hand, thumbing over the ring like he still can’t believe it’s real. Then his expression shifts, softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. “You really meant it?”

I furrow my brows. “Meant what?”

“That you’re happy.” His voice is lower now, almost hesitant. “That… this is what you want. Us.”

I don’t hesitate. “Draco,” I murmur, taking his hands in mine. “I’ve wanted this for longer than I even realized.” I squeeze his fingers. “I meant what I said. I am happy. With you.”

Something in him eases. He exhales, almost like he’s been holding his breath, and then he’s kissing me again, like he can’t help himself. His hands cradle my face, reverent and sure, and I feel the way he pours every ounce of emotion into me—like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

The fireworks continue, but I barely notice them now.

When we finally pull apart, Draco presses his forehead to mine, his breath mingling with mine in the cool night air. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

I smile, brushing my nose against his. “Neither can I.”