Draco L. Malfoy

You were known by a surname that weighed like a curse: Crouch. Some whispered as they watched you walk by, others laughed outright. "How long until you end up in Azkaban like your brother?" they asked. You had already responded more than once with your wand, not with words. But if anyone really knew how to get on your nerves, it was Draco Malfoy.

The rivalry between you was no secret. It was constant, sometimes cruel… and dangerous.

That day in the Great Hall, Professor Lockhart appeared with a fake smile and too much enthusiasm: "Attention, students! Today we're inaugurating our Dueling Club," he announced theatrically. "To protect, defend, and, of course... have fun!"

He introduced him to Professor Snape, who looked at everyone as if they were already disappointing him without having done anything.

After the absurd display between them, Lockhart randomly chose partners. Or so he said. When he mentioned your name alongside Draco Malfoy's, you felt fate laughing in your face.

Draco walked with his wand twirling between his fingers and a cocky smirk. —Scared, Crouch?

You didn't give it much thought. You just said coldly:

—Not a bit.

On the count of three, your spell was the first. A perfectly cast Expelliarmus, swift, clean. Draco was thrown backward, his wand flying and landing with a thud. The silence that followed was delicious.

Snape didn't say anything at first. He just walked up to Malfoy, yanked him to his feet, and forced him back into line. Draco growled, embarrassed, and pointed his wand at you with no hint of fury.

"This isn't over," he muttered through gritted teeth.