The air in Hogsmeade was crisp, the faint smell of butterbeer and warm pastries drifting from Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. Students bustled through the narrow streets, laughing and chattering, their breath misting in the cold winter air. Snowflakes floated lazily from the sky, coating the cobbled paths in a thin layer of white.

Carlos and Lando walked side by side, scarves wrapped tightly around their necks. Carlos had his hands stuffed into his pockets, his eyes flickering over the bustling crowd. Lando, ever observant, glanced at him now and then.

"You know," Lando said casually, "You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself. It's not every day we get out of the castle."

Carlos smirked faintly but said nothing. They pushed open the door to the Three Broomsticks, the warmth from inside immediately enveloping them. The tavern was packed with students and a few professors scattered among them. Lando led them to an empty table near the back.

As they sat down, Carlos overheard snippets of conversation from a nearby table. "Did you see him during the duel with that sixth year? He practically threw him across the pitch."

"Yeah, and have you noticed how he always gets special treatment? It's like he's untouchable."

"I heard he's hiding something. Why else would he always disappear at odd hours?"

His jaw clenched as he looked down at the scratched wooden table. Lando noticed immediately.

"Don't listen to them," he said firmly. "They don't know anything."

But the whispers didn't stop.

"He probably thinks he's better than everyone else. I mean, look at him- always brooding, always acting like he's above everyone else."

"And he always looks sick, doesn't he? I swear he didn't use to. It's like he's barely holding it together."

Carlos flinched slightly at that. He heard the door open and saw Oscar walking through with a couple of his classmates in Hufflepuff.

"Enough," Lando said loudly, attracting Oscar's attention, turning in his seat to face the group of students. "Do you lot have nothing better to do than sit here gossiping like a bunch of old gnomes?"

The nearby students froze, eyes wide as they stared at Lando.

"He's sitting right here," he continued. "You don't know him, and you definitely don't know what he's been through. So how about you shut it?"

Before the group could respond, Oscar came over, crossed his arms and stepped forward.

"What's going on here?" He questioned, his sharp gaze scanning the students.

"They were talking about Carlos," Lando replied, still glaring at them.

Oscar's expression darkened. "Right. Well, if any of you have a problem with Sainz, maybe you should say it to his face instead of whispering behind his back like cowards."

One of the Slytherin's scoffed. "Why do you two even care so much? You don't even like each other, I mean, look at him- he's not some hero. He looks half-dead most of the time. Bet he's just faking half of it for sympathy."

Carlos' chair scraped back as he stood, his usually calm demeanor breaking. "You don't know me. You don't know a damn thing about me." His voice trembled slightly, but it was steady enough to silence the group. "You sit there, passing judgment, making assumptions, but you'd crumble under half the weight I carry every single day."

The Slytherin looked momentarily stunned, but before he could respond, Oscar stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You heard him. Now leave."

The group, now clearly uncomfortable, mumbled half-hearted apologies and scattered out of the tavern.

Carlos sank back into his chair, running a hand through his hair. His shoulders trembled slightly, though whether from anger or exhaustion, it wasn't clear.

"You didn't have to do that," he muttered.

"Yes, we did," Lando said firmly.

Oscar crossed his arms. "They had no right to talk about you like that. You've done more for this school than half of them combined."

There was a brief silence before Lando clapped Carlos on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get some butterbeer. First round's on me."

He allowed himself a small smile as they moved towards the bar. Despite the whispers, despite the stares, he wasn't alone. And for now, that was enough.

As they walked, Oscar glanced at Carlos' face carefully, noticing how, despite the stronger color in his cheeks, something still felt... off. Almost as though the glamour charms weren't holding quite right. But he said nothing- for now.

His thoughts lingered on what one of the students had said- 'you don't even like each other,' it wasn't an unfamiliar sentiment. For six years, he hadn't liked Carlos, hated being more accurate. Their rivalry had been sharp-edged, full of biting remarks and scathing glares. But things had changed. Somewhere along the way, Carlos had become someone he respected—someone he cared about.

He glanced sideways at Carlos, who was looking down at the floor as they walked, shoulders slightly hunched. The glamour charms hiding his scars must have been fading- Oscar could almost see faint traces of them if he squinted.

The students were wrong about Carlos, and they were wrong about Oscar too.

"Hey," he said quietly as they reached the bar, "don't let them get in your head. They don't know you. Not really. Also, um..." He looked at Lando who was busy ordering drinks; he lowered his voice, "The charm is fading."

Carlos looked at him wide eyed, discreetly grabbed his wand out of his pocket and silently cast a new glamour charm to himself, throwing Oscar an anxious but grateful smile.

It was only a couple months ago, on a cold winter night not too different from the current one. Carlos and Oscar had been paired up in a group project for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The tension had been unbearable from the start- snide remarks, scowls, and every possible opportunity to undermine each other.

The project had ended in disaster. Spells had been exchanged in the classroom, sparks flying, desks overturned. It hadn't been enough. They'd taken their fight outside, dueling furiously in the empty courtyard under the pale moonlight.

"You think you're so much better than everyone else!" Oscar had shouted, his wand raised, sparks crackling from the tip.

"And you can't stand that I'm not!" Carlos had retorted, his wand steady, his voice cold.

It was unclear who had cast the final spell, but the resulting explosion had sent them both crashing against the stone walls, their wands skidding across the cobblestones. Professor Alonso had found them moments later, barely conscious and bleeding.

The hospital wing had been silent except for the soft breathing of the two rivals in their respective beds. Bandaged, bruised, and exhausted, neither had spoken a word for hours. Oscar had quickly realised that he had gotten off lightly with his own injuries when he looked over at Carlos.

In the stillness of the night, Oscar had whispered, "Why do we keep doing this?"

Carlos had turned his head slightly, his voice soft. "Because we don't know how to stop."

That fight had been a turning point- not a resolution, but a crack in the wall they had built between them. Over time, that crack had grown, letting light filter through.

Back in the present, Oscar watched Carlos now, realising just how far they had come from that bitter, reckless night in the courtyard. And he wasn't going to let the whispers of others ruin what little peace they had managed to find.