𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭 & 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 | drarry

8

The weeks seemed to settle into a steady rhythm, and while Draco had begrudgingly come to accept his role as a mentor to Mathias, Harry was struggling with Damian. The differences between the two relationships were stark, like night and day. Where Draco found a strange kind of comfort in Mathias's presence, Harry was left feeling frustrated, constantly wondering if he was ever going to get through to Damian.

Draco had never expected to feel anything other than indifference toward his students—certainly not attachment. But as he watched Mathias, that eager Gryffindor with his wide eyes and relentless questions, Draco couldn't help but feel something shift in him. The boy had taken to lingering after every Potions lesson, always with a new question or something he needed help with. At first, Draco had been annoyed by it, the constant interruptions eating into his precious solitude. But now, Draco found himself looking forward to the extra time with Mathias, feeling a sense of satisfaction when he saw the boy grasp something that had previously eluded him.

Mathias was eager, determined to learn, and Draco found himself caring about the boy's progress in a way he hadn't anticipated. There was something so earnest about him, something that reminded Draco of the person he used to want to be—before all the darkness, before all the expectations that had turned him into something else. And when Mathias asked him questions, it wasn't just about potions; it was about trust, about a boy who was willing to let Draco in, who saw him as someone worth learning from.

Draco had found himself talking to Mathias about more than just potions—small, almost inconsequential things, like the best way to chop an ingredient or how to handle a broom. It was a connection that had grown steadily, organically, and Draco found it strange and a little sad how much it meant to him.

He had spent years feeling like he had nothing to offer, nothing of value beyond the legacy of his family. But now, Mathias was showing him that maybe, just maybe, he could be more than that.

Draco had never felt like he had that kind of connection with his own father. With Lucius, everything had always been about expectations, about proving himself worthy of the Malfoy name. There had been no room for small, inconsequential moments, no room for mistakes or curiosity. His father's approval had always been conditional, something that could be lost with one wrong move, one failure. And Draco had spent his entire childhood trying to be what his father wanted, trying to live up to the impossible standards set before him.

It was strange and bittersweet, and it left Draco with a hollow ache whenever he thought too much about it—about what could have been, about the father he had always wanted but never had. But maybe, just maybe, in guiding Mathias, in offering the kind of support that had always been denied to him, Draco could find a way to heal, to be something more than the person his father had tried to mold him into.

In stark contrast, Harry found himself feeling more and more helpless when it came to Damian Travers. The boy was like a closed book—each page sealed tight, each word a mystery that Harry couldn't decipher. Damian had become even more withdrawn in class, his responses curt, his gaze always averted. Whenever Harry tried to reach out, Damian would pull away, his walls going up, higher and thicker, until Harry was left with nothing but his own frustration.

It wasn't that Damian didn't have potential. Harry could see the boy's intelligence, could see the spark of talent hidden beneath all the coldness. But getting to that spark felt impossible.

Harry had tried everything—offering encouragement, giving Damian extra help after class, even trying to talk to him about things beyond schoolwork. But the boy refused to let Harry in, refused to see Harry as anything other than a teacher who was intruding on his carefully constructed solitude.

Harry saw so much of a young Draco in Damian—the arrogance, the aloofness, the way he tried to pretend that he didn't care. It was painful to watch, knowing how much Draco had suffered because of those very same walls, knowing how much pain it had caused him to keep everyone out.