Zayn has always liked duels in Charms class. Professor Flitwick just doesn't seem to do them more often. There's just something about the practicality of magic that reels him in and any chance to show what he's capable of, is never a missed opportunity.
The rules of the Duel are simple: fight till disarmed of your wand.
But today, he's bored of it already.
Cho Chang was the seventh student to be disarmed in the last three minutes. To be quite honest, he hates that some of them are not even trying. Because who would be disarmed by the typical disarming spell? Dean Thomas, that's who. Zayn thinks he might catch a nap in the back seat of the class before it's his turn or even Louis'. Or maybe, they both will face each other off. Yet again.
He even dozes off in his seat, properly shielded from the Professor's eyes because a few students like to crowd and watch the duels. It's a wasted effort.
"Expelliarmus!"
Zayn hears. It wakes him up from nodding off because it's Louis who is making his way to the front space of the class after being called upon. He might as well watch it. After joining the mini crowd, he finds that the last spell was cast by Harry. He rubs his hand over his face, as though trying to remain awake. And before he knows it, he's standing at the front of the crowd who look almost on edge as he is.
Professor is sat on his desk, overlooking the whole thing and more students have gathered around to witness it. It's Louis Tomlinson up against Harry Styles. And Zayn's not wrong when he thinks it could be interesting. The students cheer when Harry dodges Louis' spells, a bit of bad technique but it works for him.
Louis looks fascinated, a mixture of surprise mixed with something pleasant. Like he wasn't expecting Harry to last before him. And Merlin knows, Zayn wasn't either.
This goes on for quite a few minutes because Louis is relentless like that. The lad can't ever just give up but Harry's putting up a tough fight too. So far, he has been defensive. Too defensive. When Harry had told Zayn about how he wants to use his spells to do good, it made Zayn scoff. It's just a duel, you're not killing Voldemort, Harry. So, it's no surprise that Louis finally has a hold on him, Harry is one spell away from being disarmed.
"Nebulus," Harry murmurs carefully, a stirring black fog casting out of his wand.
Zayn didn't realize he was holding his breath. He had only talked about the spell with Harry a couple weeks ago, it's beautifully and utterly a part of the Dark Arts. He didn't know Harry could perform it until now.
"What are you doing, Haz-" comes a whisper beside Zayn. It doesn't shock him to know it's a nervous Liam Payne, clearly attempting to stop Harry from using that spell. It's not harmful, though. The fog only causes the opponent confusion, a cover for when you want to trick the opponent and they won't see your spells coming.
"Don't distract him, Payne," Zayn hisses, knowing full well that spells like this need focus.
Liam frowns, "But he should be careful, he doesn't know what he's doing-"
"He knows," Zayn murmurs, gaze set on Harry who takes a step forward and casts the black fog around Louis, the professor watching them intently, "I told him about it."
Liam does a double take on Zayn, face illuminated with disbelief; evidently flabbergasted. He opens his mouth to say something but at that moment, Louis is disarmed. Zayn smirks, patting Liam's shoulder once before heading to face Harry.
The first few minutes, they go at it like they've stepped into the duel with an intent to kill each other. Every spell better than the last, more powerful. Harry's really in his element. Casting spells with such surety as if he's the one who created them. But Zayn's never been one to hold back.
"Ventus!"
"Relashio!" Zayn casts the spell which causes an opponent to release the object they've been holding.
But not Harry, he so easily disregarded it with his wand. Fuck, Zayn thinks. He thought he was the one who could do magic. Actually do magic and not just cast levitating spells. His chest is heaving after dueling for ten minutes straight. The fact that Harry is still standing there with his stupid wand in hand should've infuriated Zayn but it doesn't.
Harry belongs there, defending Zayn's spells and casting better ones in return. So much control over the wand, the perfecting of flicking the wrist just right so, it casts the spell better. He secretly hates that Harry might just end up being his match. A muggleborn going head to head with a pureblood. His dad would have an aneurysm.
But what distracts Zayn is the familiar sight of the green embroidery on Harry's jumper. Now that the sunlight breaks in from the windows behind Zayn, he sees it clear as day.
ZJMalik embroidered neatly on the top left of Zayn's- Harry's jumper that Zayn gave him.
"Incendio!"
And the next thing Zayn knows is he's been knocked off against the wall. He groans at the feeling of bashing his spine against the brick wall while the class gasps. But then, he sees a hand extended out to him. It's Harry, looking too smug.
"I still have my wand, you know," Zayn mutters, taking his hand and lifting himself up.
"Not for long," Harry beams at him.
With the entire class looking at him, Zayn feels like it's finally time to bring this to a close. He knows Harry's tired, he's been dueling for the past twenty minutes with other people. So, before Harry could cast another fucking spell, golden specks emerge from Zayn's wand.
Harry is bound with invisible ropes which prevent him from moving. He struggles, trying to free himself but to no avail. Zayn walks up to him with a cocky half smile, taking pride in the way Harry writhes.
"You won't be needing that, after all," Zayn looks at him with delight, merely taking Harry's wand away from his hand. And that's how Harry's disarmed.
It goes on for a few more minutes and Zayn's getting bored of it already, having disarmed a couple of students within a matter of seconds. He catches a glimpse of Harry laughing with Liam Payne in the back before deciding to let Neville Longbottom disarm him. The Professor scolds him fondly over such an obvious defeat.
"You're next," he tells Liam with a cold gaze who looks at him with narrowed eyes but goes up for his turn anyway.
When he doesn't occupy Liam's seat but goes to sit beside Harry, sharing the small bench, he swears he feels Louis roll his eyes at him.
Harry shifts, not expecting Zayn to sit next to him on the small bench with his arm around Harry draped so languidly.
"Did I nail your spell or what?" Harry's lips stretch into a soft smile, not minding the lack of space.
Zayn snickers, pressing his cold hand against Harry's cheek, "It was abysmal as always."
Harry hisses at the cold, elbows Zayn without any heat behind it and carefully takes his hand, rubbing it with his own to warm Zayn's hands. Zayn rolls his eyes, hitting Harry's knee with his own before deciding to just hold his hand. And Harry lets him.
Harry's talking to Luna about Herbology when he feels Zayn tugging at his hand to look at his rings. Specifically, the rose one. Without much thought, Harry slides it off his finger and offers it to Zayn before returning to his conversation with Luna. Zayn looks at the ring in his hand, he really likes it. And if he slides it on his ring finger, no one has to know.
"You're wearing that on purpose," Zayn muses softly when Harry turns his attention back to him.
Harry's smile grows, dimples prominent, "Didn't distract you long enough. Do you want it back?"
"Keep it on," Zayn shakes his head with the tips of his lips quirking up, "It's yours."
Harry looks too pleased at that, nestling against Zayn's side. And he doesn't know why but Harry wearing the jumper that eases something for Zayn. How proud he looks to have ZJMalik written on it even though one would have to squint to see it. And it's like the class fades away in the background once they annoy one another, laughing at meaningless things. That is until Zayn excuses himself to talk to Blaise.
After Harry finds Liam, he realizes that his wand was missing from when Zayn disarmed him. So, he goes up to ask for it.
"I heard you've been teaching Styles some spells," Blaise's voice low as he chuckles. Harry stops dead at his feet when he hears this.
"He wants to be one of us," Zayn shrugs, a faint yet cold smile curving at his lips.
Blaise shakes his head, resting his elbow on Zayn's shoulder with another mocking laugh, "Mudblood can only wish, right?"
Harry pales when he hears that word again. He searches at Zayn's face who looks like he's heard the funniest thing. Aren't you going to say something? He merely closes his eyes and sighs when he hears Zayn say 'right' back. What did he even expect? Liam thankfully, finds his wand and the class ends.
And that's the last Zayn saw of Harry. It's like he disappeared like a magic trick. Zayn didn't think much of it because they only have a couple of classes together and Hogwarts is big enough that they haven't run into each other properly till their fifth year. Until he found a familiar looking basket outside of his Common Room, addressed to him. He ignores the pang he feels in his heart when he sees Standard Book of Spells 5 by Miranda Goshawk. Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard. And under it all, folded neatly was Zayn's jumper.
Days pass by like water without even the faintest sight of Harry. Of course, he sees him in classes but never outside of it. Not even the Great Hall. Sometimes, he thinks he had imagined their conversations. It's a bit cruel, if you ask him. He had really thought they were on talking basis. But apparently, not. He shakes his head as if that'll get rid of the thoughts, inching back to rest against the headboard; the time on the clock now a mere suggestion to sleep.
"Maybe he is scared of you," Louis supplies, popping a piece of bread in his mouth the next afternoon.
It had almost been two weeks since that Charms class and of course, Louis being as nosey as he is noticed Zayn had been sulkier than usual. Sulkier, it makes Zayn scoff.
Truth is, they've all realized that something is off with Zayn. He has been having trouble sleeping a few nights, a tad slow at regular things, even messed up at one of the practice Quidditch matches. So, it's obvious that Louis would forcefully insert himself into the situation, trying to salvage it.
"He wasn't afraid of me this whole time but one day, he suddenly decides he is?"
Louis shrugs, his brows furrowing like he's actually thinking about it, "Maybe you should be more like, what's the badger's name-"
"Liam Payne," Zayn spits out.
"Him," Louis accepts, looking mischievously at Zayn, "Be more like him. Less intimidating and what not."
"Intimidating?" Zayn rolls his eyes, taking the bait.
Louis eyes trail down Zayn's clothes. Zayn purses his lips and looks down as well. He's dressed in the finest pair of trousers which his father had tailor made it for him at Diagon Alley, a white shirt upon which he's wearing his Slytherin jumper which may or may not have been imported from Wales. Maybe. Okay, it was. So, what if he doesn't look like the friendliest of the lot?
Then both of them look at Liam Payne who is sat not far from them because the Hufflepuff table is nearby Slytherin at the Great Hall.
He's all grins, laughing and patting his mates on the back. Payne though a pureblood, comes from a large family of Hufflepuffs. His father working at the Ministry of Magic meant he was not of common dwelling; yet, a far cry from who Zayn is. He briefly wonders what Harry sees in him. Payne's always too cautious, too fucking good for his own taste. It wouldn't surprise Zayn to know that he would've never taken a chance at anything in his life.
Is it the carefulness that Harry liked? Zayn is careful too, he interjects his own line of thoughts. It's not like he gets into fights or bullies people around like Theo and Blaise. He has always been careful to study and ace exams because he has to make his family proud of him. Especially, his father. He has been careful towards his sisters, his friends.
Maybe Zayn's too calculative. Too far reaching. He glances down at himself again, jaw set tight like a wounded lion. He lifts his head up, dismissing any further thoughts. He is Zayn Malik, for fuck's sake. It isn't upon a muggle born to tell Zayn who he was or how he were to act like. If Harry didn't like who he was, then tough. Zayn wasn't going to change himself overnight to become a fucking Payne.
Zayn makes an unamused face, downing the last of the cranberry juice, "I'm Zayn Malik. Anyone else is a waste of time."
"Maybe it's a muggle thing then, you twat," Louis supplies, hoping to lighten the mood as the make their way out of the Great Hall.
"Probably," Zayn perks up before running into someone, "Fuck, are you blind?"
He curses, instantly grabbing the student- Dean Thomas, by his collar. When Zayn hears Louis call his name, he spots Harry by the staircase. It dawns on him what it all looks like. Zayn slamming Dean Thomas against the Great Hall door with a fistful of his collar, people whispering amongst themselves. Harry has this unreadable expression on his face though his eyes look like he expects better from Zayn. Before Dean can utter more apologies, Zayn sets him down.
Clearing his throat and running a hand to smooth the other lad's collar, "Sorry, lost my temper."
"No, it's completely my fault. I'm so sorry," Dean panics, going off on a string of apologies. Probably because he fears Zayn would deck him in the face next but Zayn just shakes his head and strides past the prying eyes, heading for his Common Room.
"Gentle," Harry murmurs, a slight frown tugging at his lips.
"I am being gentle," Zayn huffs out, setting his wand down in frustration.
They're sitting in the middle of the staircase which leads to the Gryffindor Common Room. It has less people around, quieter and they've been meeting here one too many times for Zayn to remember. He has insisted that Harry teach him the healing spells he had used on him the night of the incident.
"You're not being gentle enough," nags Harry, giving him a light push by his shoulder, "Healing charms aren't like other spells. They work better if you cast them with careful consideration."
Zayn merely shoots him a glare. He doesn't know how fucking more gentle he can get before Harry places his hand on top of his, clutching Zayn's wand. He looks at Zayn for a beat to settle the nerves and Zayn nods to show that he's ready.
"Episkey," he casts the spell, Harry's hand carefully flicking the wand around the scratch on Zayn's arm. It was the slightest movement of the wand or a great deal of concern coming from Harry over a tiny scratch, Zayn doesn't know which- but it fades into thin air. Heals itself.
"Yeah, I could never be that gentle."
And Harry lets out a laugh, shaking his head.
"Ah, fuck," Zayn says to no one in particular. It's a little past midnight and he curses that even his dreams now have been corrupted with a curly mess of head. He doesn't know why exactly he can't seem to let it go. Kind of hates that he's becoming obsessed with it. It's not the leaving which bothered him. No, many people have left Zayn before. His past relationships or friendships which faded away because he merely outgrew them, he has come to terms with it. It's the leaving without a reason that bugs him. It eats away at him like a missing puzzle piece.
Was it something he did? Said? Did he come off too strong?
Even then, curiosity would've died by a week. It wouldn't have lasted this long. This was something else. He felt like he was missing something. Nothing turned him upside down like losing Harry Styles.