He doesn't see a rival to taunt. Instead, he sees you—curled into a tight ball against the cold stone wall, gasping for air as a severe PTSD flashback tears through your mind. Your chest is heaving, your hands are shaking, and your eyes are wide with sheer terror.

For a second, Draco freezes. The malicious sneer completely vanishes from his face, replaced by a flash of recognition. He knows this exact horror. He breathes through it every single night.

Looking around to make sure the corridor is completely empty, he slowly steps closer, carefully dropping to his knees a few feet away. He doesn't touch you, keeping his hands visible so he doesn't startle you further.