𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭 & 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 | drarry

10

The sound of shouting echoed through the corridor as Draco turned the corner, his eyes narrowing at the sight ahead. Damian Travers and Mathias Fawley were squared off in the middle of the hallway, wands drawn, their expressions twisted with anger. A crowd of students had gathered, murmuring amongst themselves, their excitement palpable.

Draco's heart sank.

Bloody hell. Not again.

Don't they get tired of it?

Well... come to think of it... Potter and I never did.

"Damian, put—that—wand—down!" Draco's voice was sharp and gritting. He strode forward, pushing through the circle of students, his robes billowing behind him. He liked to think he was embodying Snape in that moment. Merlin knows, that man always terrified the hell out of Draco.

Damian's head snapped up, his eyes meeting Draco's, contempt flashing across his face. Mathias took the opportunity to raise his wand, and before Draco could react, a burst of light shot from the tip, streaking toward Damian.

Harry appeared from the opposite end of the corridor just in time, his own wand already in hand. "Protego!" he shouted, the shield charm snapping into place just as the spell hit, deflecting it harmlessly into the air.

"Enough!" Harry's voice echoed, his gaze flicking between the two boys, both of whom now looked stunned, if not a little afraid. "Wands down. Now!"

Mathias hesitated, glancing at Harry, then slowly lowered his wand. Damian, however, kept his raised, his hand trembling slightly, his expression a mixture of anger and something else—something wounded.

Draco stepped closer, his eyes fixed on Damian. "Mister Travers—I said put it down," he repeated, his voice softer now but no less firm.

Damian clenched his jaw, his gaze darting between Draco and Harry. For a long moment, it seemed like he wouldn't listen, but finally, with a deep breath, he lowered his wand, his hand falling to his side.

"Good," Draco said, nodding once. He turned to Mathias, his eyes narrowing. "And you—attacking a fellow student? What do you think you're proving?"

Mathias looked away, guilt flickering across his face. "He started it," he muttered.

Harry stepped forward, his expression stern. "I don't care who started it. This isn't how we handle things at Hogwarts. Both of you should know better."

Draco turned back to Damian, his gaze softening slightly as he took in the boy's tense posture, the way he was still gripping his wand, knuckles white. He saw so much of himself in Damian—the anger, the need to lash out, to prove something. He had been that boy once, and he knew exactly where that path led.

"Damian," Draco said, his voice lower, meant only for him. "This isn't the way. Whatever it is that's eating at you, fighting like this isn't going to fix it."

Damian looked at Draco, his eyes glistening with frustration. "He thinks he's better than me," he spat, his voice cracking. "They all do."

Draco's chest tightened, a pang of recognition hitting him hard. He stepped closer, his expression softening. "And you think proving them wrong means fighting? Hurting people?" He shook his head. "You're better than that, Damian. You're better... than I was."

Damian's gaze dropped, his shoulders sagging. For a moment, he looked lost, the fight draining out of him, leaving only exhaustion.

Harry glanced between the two of them, then turned to the crowd of students still gathered around. "Alright, everyone, show's over. Back to your common rooms." His voice was calm but firm, and slowly, the students began to disperse, the excitement replaced with murmurs of disappointment.