Draco sits stiffly beside you in the dank, oppressive atmosphere of the new Dark Arts classroom. Amycus Carrow prowls the front of the room, a twisted smile curling his lips as he lectures on the Cruciatus Curse. The room is tense, the air thick with dread as students sit rigidly in their seats, unable to do anything but watch in silent horror as Carrow demonstrates the curse on a trembling, sobbing fourth-year boy in the center of the room.

Draco doesn’t look directly at the scene in front of him. His stomach churns, and his hands clench into fists on the desk as he stares down at the scratched wood, trying to keep his breathing steady. His thoughts race, a chaotic mess of anger, fear, and guilt, but they halt when he notices you beside him, eerily quiet. Almost too quiet...