Disclaimer: I do not own either of these chocolate chip muffins, just the situation that they're in!
Sword Dance
Ten minutes past eleven; a full moon hung high in the pitch black sea of sky. The town was covered by a darkness that only the moon could penetrate. The night was silent, except for the sounds of the small river flowing nearby. On the banks of this small river, a humble wooden dwelling sat. All of the windows showed no light, save for the faint glow of candles in the siting room. Just south of the wooden house, a warrior was crouched low in the brush, watching and waiting.
Draco Malfoy stared at the house, bathed in the moonlight. His arms and legs were beginning to ache. His bare feet stung with the pain of having been stabbed by several sharp twigs. A single bead of sweat slid from his temple, down his cheek, to the end of his jaw. He'd been sitting there, in that position for quite some time, but he knew that, in the end, his prize would be well worth it.
Finally, Draco saw the candle light fade to darkness. For a brief moment, the thought that his prize had gone to bed crossed his mind. No, he thought, he's trickier than that. Eyes still glued on the house, he shifted his weight, slowly, so as not to make a sound, and slung his sword over his back. Then, swiftly and silently, he jumped out of the bush and ran toward the house. As he was beginning to near the wooden wall, he kicked off the ground and leapt into the air, curling his body into a somersault before straightening it again on his descent, only to land soundlessly in a crouching position on the tiled roof of the porch. The few silvery strands that escaped his high ponytail brushed against his face as he paused to listen. When he heard no signs of his detection, he continued.
Very carefully, he crawled to the edge of the roof and slowly lowered himself down onto the wooden planks of the porch floor, going immediately back into a crouch. Then, staying in that position, he made his way to the window on the left side of the front door. His heart beat began to pick up speed. This is it, he thought. Quickly and quietly, he stood and jumped through the open window. As soon as his feet touched the hardwood floors, he heard something cutting through the air, rushing toward his face. Without thinking, he ducked, rolled to the other wall, and rose but remained crouched low, his sword drawn and at the ready. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he began to make out a large shape in the corner of shadows from which he had just fled. His thin lips curled into a smile.
Let's play, Potter.
The dark figure charged at him. He raised his sword and swung, but felt it glide smoothly through the air. His opponent had dodged, bringing himself to the floor. A leg swung out from under his crouched body. Draco quickly jumped out of the way, throwing his body into another somersault over his opponent's. He landed in the center of the room, in the same position as before, ready and waiting, his sword still raised. Potter took a step forward. Draco took a step back. His eyes flicked up to the pair of emeralds gleaming at him in the darkness. They bore into him, questioning him….testing him? Then, for the briefest of moments, they flickered a fraction of an inch to something to Draco's side. He wondered what the meaning of it was, but before his mind could finish the question it found the answer. Draco quickly saw Potter's hand inching ever so slightly to the side. Without a second thought, he charged. The balls of his feet pounded against the wooden floor as he ran towards his target, gathering speed. Finally he kicked off and shot into the air. He brought his sword to attack position on his descent. Potter's hands came together at the heel of his palms. In the center an orb of light grew. Potter drew his hands back, and then thrust them forward, launching it forward straight at Draco.
The orb hit Draco with the force of a tidal wave. It caught him in midair, and sent him flying clear across the room into the wooden planks of the opposite wall. His body bounced and he let out a heavy "oomph" as his chest made contact with the floor.
"Accio," he heard Potter hiss from above him. His head shot up in time to see a sword fly across the room, into his opponent's hand. Potter immediately unsheathed it, tossing the cloth to the side. He stood poised, sword raised and ready for action. Then, slowly and mockingly, he raised a single eyebrow.
Draco let out a low growl, pushed himself back onto his feet, and took up his sword. He didn't hesitate before charging again. With his blade high above his head but close to his ear, he ran straight at his prize, determined to succeed. He swung. This time, his blade was brought to an abrupt halt with a resounding clank, coming in contact with another on defense. He swung again. Another clank as the two straightedges met in the air a second time.
Draco swung high; Potter ducked.
Draco swung low; Potter jumped.
Draco jabbed; Potter dodged.
On and on he continued his ruthless attack and on and on Potter continued to evade him. His arms were quickly growing tired; sweat was dripping down his torso on the inside of his robes. But he knew he couldn't stop. He wouldn't let himself. With a burst of final strength, he lunged forward and swung his blade. It collided with Potter's exactly in the center. The shock reverberated back through both swords, into both men's arms, but it was Potter who lost his grip. With a smirk of triumph, Draco swung again, resolved to ending it there and then. His heart skipped when he felt the tip of his blade catch onto something. He jumped back and turned around, only to realize that it was not flesh but fabric that he had cut.
The waist of Potter's already loose linen pants fell limp and the garment slid past his hips into a pool around his feet. Draco's body froze for a moment as his mind registered the sight before his eyes.
It was a moment too long. Potter was now charging.
Draco immediately snapped himself out of his daze and tried to raise his sword, but it wasn't even half up before it was being knocked out of his hand by a bare foot. Before he could think, the foot came up again, at his face. He blocked with his arm. Pain shot through it as the two body parts struck one another. Draco winced. He pushed Potter off of him as best as he could and made a break for his sword, ten feet away, but he already knew he was finished. He didn't even make it halfway before he received a kick to his back that sent him hurtling into the opposing wooden wall.
His body collided with it once before a hand grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and pinned his front to the wall. He let out a groan of both pain and frustration, and tried to shove himself free, but to no avail. Finally, he ceased to struggle.
"Settle down, little Dragon," Potter's voice whispered into his ear.
"You cheated," he hissed back, hotly. "We're supposed to be studying combat without magic. If this had been a fair fight, I would have had you."
"Well, that's not much incentive for me to fight fair, now is it?" Draco felt him tighten his grip, throw more of his weigh into pinning him down. He could feel every inch of Potter's body that was pressed up against him, through the thin fabric of his dark robes. It made his heart pound in his chest. "And as a matter of fact, Draco," Potter whispered, "I don't think it was my use of magic that lost you this little sparring match."
Draco cursed himself. Potter knew.
"Now, why don't you be a good little Dragon and take what's coming to you."
He felt Harry's free hand move to the scabbard hanging around his hip and remove his favorite dagger from within. Seconds later, a shiver stole down his spine as the cold steel of the cutting edge was pressed against the side of his neck, in a spot just below a column of silver lines that indicated previous performances of the same ritual. He felt a sharp pain as the blade traveled across his skin, cutting through the thin layers. The pain turned into a dull throb and a slight tickle as a single drop of blood swelled at the center of the wound before succumbing to gravity and trailing down the curve of his neck. Harry let out a long, ragged breath.
Draco smirked. "Sadist," he whispered.
Without warning, a hot moist tongue caught the blood droplet, just as it neared the collar of the top of Draco's robes. Draco gasped at the sudden contact. The tongue slid back up the line of blood to the wound before dancing over it, licking it clean, and Draco, too, found himself becoming quite aroused. Then, soft lips closed on top of it, sealing it with a sensual kiss, before they traveled to his ear.
"Masochist," Harry whispered back, the sound of a triumphant smile heavy on his lips.
Feech's Note:My "fight scene" is not that great, I know, butI stillfeel so proud of myself for having finished this! I think I deserve some ice cream. Anyway, I got the idea for this while watching "Animatrix", if you've seen it, then you probably know which mini movie thing it's from. And that little "You cheated…fair fight…blah blah blah…" bit? I totally got that from PotC. (I am all about outside influences this week, eh?) I'm not going to deny it. It's a great film. So useful. Well, that's all I've got to say so, you can just mosey on down to that review button! Don't be afraid to tell me how I can be better! Peaches!