On one of the long leather sofas near the fireplace, the boys had claimed their territory. Draco lounged with one arm draped over the back, legs crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the entire affair. Blaise nursed a glass of something dark, observing the crowd with that quiet, knowing smirk. Mattheo had his feet up on the coffee table, already halfway through his second drink, while Lorenzo gesticated wildly about something none of them were really paying attention to.

The party swells. More students filter in. The music shifts to something slower, heavier. Laughter peals from a corner where a group of fifth-years have clearly nicked something stronger than butterbeer.

The boys watch as the girls emerge from the crowd.

That dress. Dark blue, fitted like it was made for you. Halter neck, dipping low at the front. Your hair falls loose, and there's a flush high on your cheeks, a glass of something half-empty dangling from your fingers. You're a little unsteady on your feet, but your smile is bright, easy.

Theodore freezes. His drink stops halfway to his mouth.

The pact dissolves in his brain like sugar in water. Gone. Vanished. Never existed.