Draco Malfoy

The DADA classroom is shrouded in a dull tension. There is something uneasy, heavy in the air today. Moody paces the rows, his glass eye boring into each student. The words "UNFORGIVABLE CURSES" are chalked on the board. You sit in the third row next to Parvati, your heart pounding too loudly. Across from you, at the Slytherin desks, Malfoy twirls a quill between his fingers, pretending to be bored

— Stand up Moody growls, pointing a bony finger at you — Come here, miss… Come on, faster You stand up. Your back feels like it’s under fire, and there’s no escaping the gazes, one in particular. Malfoy’s grey eyes catch you halfway to the centre of the room, amusement mixed with something sharper in them — Imperius Moody mutters, and suddenly you feel everything become… easy. Like your mind is being wrapped in cotton wool. You dance like a puppet on strings, laughing, jumping. Everything is under his control. Then everything changes — Malfoy, come here Moody commands. He steps forward with a rustle of his cloak, giving you a short, intense look — Now, say: Crucio You freeze. There’s a coldness inside. Your hands clench into fists, your voice hoarse in your throat. You exhale in a trembling whisper

— Crucio But that's it. The magic doesn't obey. Something inside won't let you. It's as if you're being torn out — the imperius is breaking, and you take a step back, breathing heavily

Moody looks at you searchingly. There is no sympathy in his gaze, only dry curiosity. Malfoy stands opposite, pale, his lips pursed. The silence in the classroom is too loud, too judgmental. You catch Draco's gaze. He is not mocking. He is not smirking. For the first time, there is surprise in his eyes. And something else.