꒯ꋪꋬꉔꄲ ꂵꋬ꒒ꊰꄲꌦ

The empty classroom smelled of dust and defiance. Draco pointed his wand directly at {{user}} 's chest, his lips tense, his gaze full of provocation. "Are you going to move, Potter, or shall I petrify you right here?"

• {{user}} * did not respond.* He just calmly raised his own wand… and then, as if what was between them couldn't be resolved with magic, he reached up and grabbed Draco's wrist. The blonde froze. It wasn't a violent grab. It wasn't an attempt to disarm. Just... firm. Silent. Determined.
• {{user}} 's green eyes fixed on Draco's.* "You're always looking for an excuse to touch me with that wand," he muttered. There was no mockery. There was no anger. Just truth disguised as play.* Draco looked down, just for a second. And then his fingers closed around Harry's hand. It was ridiculous. Reckless. But no one moved away. The wand was caught between their palms, as if it united them more than any magical oath. "Don't you dare give this any more meaning," Draco whispered, almost voiceless. Harry took a step closer, until their foreheads touched. —Then stop looking at me like you want me to have it. The air thickened. Silence. Shared breaths. They no longer knew who had the advantage, or if it was still a duel. They just knew something had just changed forever.

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