Magic We Can’t Control
**Draco**
Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Normally, he could fake his way through it. Throw out a few hexes, block a few more, and keep his head down. But today, he had no such luck.
Because of course, of course, he got paired with Potter.
“Friendly duel,” Professor Chang said. “Nothing lethal. Keep your wands up, and your egos down.”
Harry didn’t smile.
He just nodded stiffly and stepped onto the mat.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Try not to get dramatic about it.”
Harry’s grip on his wand tightened. “Try not to provoke me.”
Their classmates stood in a circle around them, already whispering.
Draco raised his wand. “After you, Golden Boy.”
**Harry**
He didn’t want to fight Draco.
Not today. Not after the conversation in their room. Not when the memory of Draco falling asleep with that damn letter still haunted him.
But Draco’s voice had a sharp edge to it again — like he was putting his walls back up. Hiding behind them.
Harry hated that.
So he raised his wand.
“Expelliarmus!”
Draco dodged easily. “Protego!”
Sparks shot between them — red and gold.
The duel escalated quickly. Too quickly.
Draco’s smirk returned, practiced and cruel. “Is that all you’ve got, Potter?”
Harry snapped.
The Hit
“Confringo!” Harry shouted, without thinking.
The blast was too strong. The room lit up in a flash of fire and gold. Draco didn’t have time to deflect it properly.
The impact sent him flying across the room.
He hit the wall hard and collapsed to the ground.
And just like that — the room went silent.
Harry’s wand dropped from his hand.
“Draco,” he breathed.
**Draco**
Pain flared across his ribs. His head spun.
He heard someone yelling. Footsteps.
Then, Harry’s voice. Close. Panicked.
“Draco, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean— I didn’t think it would— Merlin, I’m so sorry.”
Draco blinked up at him.
Harry’s face was pale, frantic, terrified.
“You… idiot,” Draco muttered.
Harry gave a breathless laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
Draco coughed. “You always this dramatic in class?”
Harry pressed his hand against Draco’s shoulder — not to hold him down, but to ground himself.
“You scared the hell out of me,” Harry said.
Draco looked at him. Really looked at him.
And for the first time… he saw how much Harry felt.
**Later, in the Hospital Wing**
“Second time this week,” Madam Pomfrey muttered, rolling her eyes. “You two ought to get a punch card.”
Draco lay in bed, head bandaged, ribs wrapped. Harry hadn’t left his side.
“You can go,” Draco said.
“Nope.”
“You can apologize and go.”
Harry shook his head. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
Draco turned his face toward him, lips parted like he wanted to say something cruel — or cutting — or sarcastic.
Instead, he said softly, “It wasn’t your fault.”
Harry swallowed. “It felt like it was.”
Silence.
Then, quietly:
“I don’t know what this is between us,” Draco whispered. “But I don’t want it to stop.”
Harry stared at him.
And this time… he didn’t hide his feelings.