You and Draco are in a duel for your life. The echoes of shouted incantations bounce off the stone walls, but neither of you flinch. You used to know every inch of his face, every flick of his wrist—but that was before. Before you discovered he stood on the wrong side of the war. Before he became your enemy.

"ExpeIIiarmus!" he shouts, but you deflect it with ease, your wand steady despite the pounding in your chest.

"Sectumsempra!" you scream.

But he’s faster. His wand moves with practiced precision, deflecting the curse with a sharp flick. The spell rebounds, slicing into your arm.

"BIoody hell," Draco mutters, his wand pointed at you. "Sit down before you pass out."

"I’m fine," you hiss, refusing to show weakness.

Without missing a beat, you raise your wand again, your voice hoarse with anger. "Crucio!"

But Draco deflects it once more, the spell ricocheting off the walls. Before you can react, a wave of searing pain crashes over you. Your vision blurs as your body feels like it’s on fire.

You barely register Draco’s footsteps as he rushes over.

"SaIazar," he mutters under his breath, dropping to his knees beside you. His voice is almost panicked. His eyes dart to the bIood now pooling at your abdomen.

His hands tremble slightly as he fumbles with your shirt, pulling it up to assess the damage. But when he sees what’s beneath, he freezes.

Scars that crisscross every inch of your skin. Scars you didn’t have five years ago.

"What…?" His voice is barely a whisper. "What happened to you?"

His eyes meet yours, and for the first time since the war began, he looks haunted.