autumn | severus snape

twenty six

Draco proved to be a natural in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, finding the perfect balance between authority figure and approachable mentor. His sharp mind, shaped from years of navigating the dark legacies of his family, made him a formidable teacher's assistant. He commanded respect with his confident demeanor, but what set him apart was his ability to relate to the students.

Draco had an unspoken understanding of fear and struggle, things many of the students were struggling with. He knew what it was like to live under pressure and expectation. And though his role was to assist Professor Brindlemore, the students naturally gravitated toward him, finding his strength reassuring.

There was a gentleness to his authority that surprised many. Unlike the arrogant, sneering boy they had once gone to school with, he had grown into someone who listened. When a student hesitated or struggled with a spell, he didn't mock them or rush them through the process. Instead, he would stand by their side, offering quiet encouragement and a few sharp yet effective tips. It wasn't just about getting them to cast the spell; it was about making them believe they could.

Ophelia watched from the back of the classroom Thursday afternoon, her eyes following Draco as he moved between the students, correcting their form with a calm, easy confidence. There was a certain grace to him, still sharp, still witty, but tempered by a quiet maturity she hadn't expected.

"You're holding too much tension in your wrist," Draco said to a third-year Hufflepuff struggling with a Disarming Charm. He placed a hand lightly on the student's shoulder, giving her a reassuring nod. "Relax. Magic flows better when you aren't trying to force it. Try again."

The student tried once more, and this time, the spell worked and the wand of her partner flew across the room. The student beamed, and Draco gave her a rare, approving smile.

"Well done," he said, nodding slightly before moving on to the next group.

Draco felt like he had found his place, and it suited him, this blend of discipline and empathy. He had always been clever, but now, for the first time, he was using that sharpness to guide, not just to defend himself or fight back.

As class wrapped up, Draco caught Ophelia's eye from across the room, raising an eyebrow in a silent question: How did I do?

She gave him a small nod of approval, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He had done more than well.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he said after the last student had left.

Ophelia, still lingering near the back of the classroom, leaned against one of the desks. "I wanted to see you in action," she replied. "You didn't show up to my class."

"Didn't know you were waiting for me," Draco smirked, shaking his head. "Well, it's because Professor Brindlemore wants me to focus on the younger students," he explained. "I don't think she trusts me to teach seventh-years dangerous spells yet, seeing as I was one myself not long ago."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. "She's probably right. I can't imagine you showing restraint if someone asked for a demonstration of the Blasting Curse."

Draco smiled. "She's not wrong," he admitted, leaning against his desk, arms folded across his chest. "But can you blame her? A former Death Eater teaching defense spells.. it's not exactly the most traditional setup."

Ophelia's smile faded, and she stepped closer, her expression softening. "You're not that person anymore, Draco," she said quietly. "And if today was any indication, you're a natural at this. You know that, right?"

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable for a moment, then he shrugged, though the tension in his shoulders didn't quite ease. "I'm trying," he said, his voice softer now. "It's... harder than I thought it would be, being back here. Sometimes it feels like people are just waiting for me to slip up."