The classroom hummed with low chatter as students filed in, their robes rustling against the polished stone floor. The air carried the faint scent of parchment and ink, mingling with the cool breeze sneaking through the enchanted windows that shimmered with the cloudy sky outside. At the front of the room, Professor Alonso stood tall and composed, methodically arranging items on his desk: an assortment of quills, ink pots, and small spellbooks, all neatly aligned.

Carlos entered with Lando by his side, his gait slow but deliberate. His injured shoulder was supported by a sling, the stark white fabric a glaring contrast to his dark robes. Despite the clear discomfort etched into his features, his expression was one of practiced indifference, his usual nonchalant air firmly in place.

"You didn't have to come, you know," Lando murmured as they made their way to their seats near the middle of the room. He shot Carlos a sidelong glance, worry evident in the slight crease of his brow.

"And miss one of Fernando's riveting lectures?" Carlos retorted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a faint smirk. "What kind of student would I be if I started skipping now?"

Lando frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn't reply, though his thoughts churned. He'd watched Carlos brush off injuries before, but something about this felt different.

Professor Alonso cleared his throat, the sound commanding immediate attention. The low murmurs in the room died down as all eyes turned toward the front.

"Buenos días, everyone," Alonso began, his voice steady and authoritative. "Today, we'll delve into one of the more advanced facets of transfiguration: altering an object's inherent properties without changing its form. A delicate skill, requiring both focus and finesse. If done incorrectly, the consequences can be... unpredictable." His sharp gaze swept across the room, lingering briefly on Carlos before moving on.

The room buzzed with concentration as students attempted the day's task: transforming mundane quills into enchanted ones that could scribe independently. A few successes fluttered across the room, the quills scratching out shaky but legible sentences. More often than not, however, the quills sputtered ink wildly or flopped uselessly against the parchment.

Lando furrowed his brow as he focused on his quill, his wand tracing precise movements through the air. With a muttered incantation, the quill trembled, then began to scratch out wobbly letters. He watched with a mix of pride and relief as it managed a few coherent words before collapsing.

Turning to his right, he noticed Carlos' wand laid untouched on the desk.

"You're not going to try?" Lando asked quietly, keeping his voice low to avoid attracting attention.

Carlos glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Can't exactly do wand movements properly with my left hand, can I? I tried, nothing happened, I'm right handed, remember?"

"You could've just told Alonso that," Lando said, his tone tinged with concern. "He wouldn't have made you do it."

Carlos shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "It's fine. I'll just watch. Not like I'm missing much, I already know the spell."

Lando hesitated before speaking again. "How's the shoulder?"

Carlos' jaw tightened slightly, a telltale sign of his frustration. "Still attached, last I checked. I can't take part in Quidditch practice for a bit though, all because it can't heal quickly. At least the next game isn't for a couple months."

"Carlos..."

"I'm fine, it's fine," Carlos snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. Immediately, he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Lo siento. I didn't mean to- just leave it, alright? I'll be fine in a week or two, surely."

Lando bit back a reply, his frustration evident in the way his grip tightened on his wand. He hated seeing Carlos like this- closed off, defencive- but he also knew better than to push too hard.

As the lesson wound down, Professor Alonso began making his rounds, observing the students' progress with his usual keen eye. When he approached Lando and Carlos' desk, his sharp gaze lingered on Carlos, who straightened slightly under the scrutiny.

"Mr Sainz," Alonso began, his tone calm but firm. "A word after class, if you will."

Carlos tensed visibly, but he nodded. Lando's concern spiked, but he stayed silent, sensing this was something Carlos needed to handle alone. "I've not been called that for a long time, not by him," he winced.

Once the room had cleared, Alonso leaned against his desk, arms crossed as he studied Carlos. The silence stretched for a moment, the Professor's piercing gaze seeming to see right through him.

"You shouldn't be here today," Fernando said quietly, his words carrying a weight that went beyond mere instruction.

Carlos smirked, though it lacked its usual bite. "Didn't realise skipping class was an option."

"You know that's not what I meant," he replied, his voice softening slightly. "How's the shoulder? I heard it's actually broken."

Carlos' gaze flickered toward the ground. " It's manageable."

"And the... other symptoms?"

"Under control."

Fernando nodded, though his worry didn't abate. "You need to be careful, Carlos. Pushing yourself too hard-"

"I'm fine," Carlos interrupted, his voice clipped. "I'm not made of glass, you know."

"No, but you're not invincible either," Fernando countered, his tone steady but gentle. "And if you won't take care of yourself for your own sake, at least consider the people around you. They're worried about you, even if you refuse to see it."

Carlos's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn't respond. After a moment, Fernando sighed, his expression softening.

"Go. Rest. And try not to give me another reason to send you back to Madam Pomfrey."

"It won't heal properly, she told me. Apparently me being a werewolf won't allow Skele-gro to work and that it would do more harm than good. I'm going to be stuck like this for a while, I can't even use my wand anymore," he told Fernando dejectedly, who frowned.

"I can help you learn to use your wand with your other hand, it's a good skill to have."

"I- sí, okay. Gracias Nando." He said, hope sparking within him.

Carlos rejoined Lando in the corridor, his expression carefully neutral.

"What did he want?" Lando asked, falling into step beside him.

"Just Nando being Nando," Carlos replied with a shrug, wincing slightly at the motion.

Lando frowned but didn't press further. As they walked toward their next class, He couldn't shake the feeling that something was simmering just beneath the surface. He felt detached from the noise around him, his thoughts consumed by the tension he had felt radiating off Carlos.

They parted ways, Lando making his way to the library, seeking solace among the towering shelves of books. He slid into a quiet corner and sank into a chair, resting his elbows on the wooden table as he buried his face in his hands.

It wasn't like Carlos to be so dismissive. Sure, he was secretive, but this... this was different.

Lando's chest tightened with worry. Alonso's tone hadn't been scolding- it had been concerned, almost protective when he came over. As if Carlos' recklessness was a danger not just to himself but to others. In a way, he guessed it was.

His mind wandered back to the Quidditch match, the reckless dive, the moment of impact. And then to the hospital wing, where Carlos had brushed off his concerns with a weak smile. He had thought then that the injury was just physical, but now...

"What are you hiding, Chili?" Lando muttered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.

The memory of Alonso's earlier conversation with him about Carlos when he was younger surfaced, unbidden. Alonso's words had been filled with a deep, almost paternal fondness, but they also carried a hint of sadness. Something had shaped Carlos into the guarded person he was now, and it frustrated Lando to no end that he didn't know what; it appeared to him that even Alonso didn't know the real reason.

And then there was the way Carlos had looked at him in the hospital wing- like he was holding something back, something big.

Lando sighed, leaning back in his chair. He didn't want to push, but the weight of not knowing, of seeing his best friend struggle and not being able to help, was unbearable.

Meanwhile, Carlos had retreated to the Astronomy Tower- a quiet spot he often sought when he needed to clear his head. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the stone floor, and the chill in the air was a welcome distraction from the storm raging inside him.

He leaned against the parapet, careful not to jostle his injured shoulder, and gazed out at the sprawling Hogwarts grounds. His thoughts were a chaotic mess of guilt, frustration, and fear. Feelings that lately he had grown all too accustomed to.

Alonso's words from earlier replayed in his mind. "And if you won't take care of yourself for your own sake, at least consider the people around you."

Carlos scoffed softly, though there was no humor in the sound. As if I haven't been thinking about them this entire time.

He thought of Lando: his unwavering loyalty, his concern, his endless patience despite his own constant evasions. And then there was Oscar, who had somehow wormed his way into Carlos' trust after years of animosity. They both deserved better.

The memory of Lando's terrified expression at the Quidditch match flashed before his eyes, and his chest tightened. He hated seeing that look- hated being the cause of it.

And yet, how could he possibly tell Lando the truth? How could he risk everything they had built over the years? Lando deserved answers, but the thought of losing his best friend...

Carlos clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of his secret, yet the idea of sharing it felt even more unbearable.

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the castle, Lando made his way to the Astronomy Tower. He had searched the usual places- common room, library, Great Hall, even his tree on the edge of the grounds- before finally deciding on the tower.

Sure enough, he found Carlos leaning against the parapet, his figure silhouetted against the fading light.

"Thought I'd find you here," Lando said softly, approaching cautiously.

Carlos turned, his expression guarded but not surprised. "What gave it away?"

"You disappear when you're thinking. It's a bit of a pattern," Lando replied, attempting a light tone.

Carlos snorted, though the sound lacked humor. "And here I thought I was unpredictable."

Lando leaned against the parapet beside him, the two of them staring out at the horizon in silence for a moment.

"You scared me," Lando admitted quietly.

Carlos stiffened. "What, in Transfiguration? I wasn't even doing anything."

"Not just today," Lando clarified, his voice tinged with frustration. "The Quidditch match, the hospital wing, the way you keep brushing everything off like it's no big deal. It is a big deal, Carlos. To me, at least."

Carlos swallowed hard, his gaze fixed firmly on the horizon. "I'm fine, Lando. You don't need to worry so much."

"I can't not worry," Lando countered, his voice breaking slightly. "You're my best friend. You're not fine, and I know it. Alonso knows it. Even Oscar knows it, and you two only just started talking again."

Carlos flinched at the mention of Oscar but didn't respond.

Lando took a deep breath, his next words careful and measured. "Look, I'm not asking you to tell me everything, Right now, I'm not asking you to tell me. I just... I need you to trust me enough to let me help. Even if it's just being there for you."

Carlos' resolve cracked for a moment, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his emotions. "I don't know if I can," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not?" Lando pressed, his tone soft but persistent.

"Because I can't lose you," Carlos blurted out, his voice shaking. "If I tell you... if you knew the truth, you'd look at me differently. And I can't risk that. I know you said you wouldn't think different, but you cannot judge the situation without knowing it. It's bad, Lando. Really bad."

His heart ached at the raw vulnerability in Carlos' voice. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before resting a hand on Carlos' good shoulder. "Either way, you're still Carlos Sainz Junior. That's all that matters."

Carlos' eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he shook his head. "You say that now..."

"I'll keep saying it until you believe me," Lando interrupted, his tone unwavering.

For a moment, it looked like Carlos might finally break down the wall he had so carefully constructed. But then, he pulled away, retreating back into himself.

"Not tonight," he said, his voice hoarse. "I can't- not tonight. I...I am trying, lo juro por Dios I'm trying."

Lando's disappointment was palpable, but he nodded, recognising that pushing further would do more harm than good.

"I know you are, and I thank you for that," he said softly. "But whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

Carlos nodded wordlessly, and the two of them sat in silence, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavily between them.