Love is a Duel
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters, places, and any objects from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made from this as it is purely a fan service.
Chapter One
"It'll never work."
"Oh, of course it will! Look here, Blaise, the bottle says 'Guaranteed to make the drinker fall madly in love with you in exactly three seconds!" Pansy Parkinson squealed, waving a smallish bottle in Blaise's face as they walked.
In front of the doors leading to the Great Hall, the two of them stopped. Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose. "Pansy," he sighed patiently. "Let me get this straight. Those 'love tablets,' or whatever they're called, are from a third year Hufflepuff who claims he got it from some underground organization in Birmingham. What would a thirteen-year-old be doing connected to any underground anything?" He sighed again. "Besides, I wouldn't trust that Hufflepuff as far as I could throw 'im!"
The petite blond put her hands on her hips. "Well, what about all that 'just and loyal' tripe, then?"
Blaise raised his hands defensively. "All I'm saying is you may regret it."
She looked back down at the bottle of large purple tablets. "Well, he did say others have used it successfully before." A slow smile grew on her face. "In any case, he'll be the sorry one if it doesn't work."
The brunette shivered involuntarily at the thought of Pansy-Wrath. "Why don't you just wait until the holidays are over? We leave tomorrow morning, so wouldn't it be pointless to do it now?"
"Ah, but this is the genius of my plan," Pansy smirked. "All throughout the holidays, the potion will be working inside him -- torturing him with my absence. And when I finally return...." she let out an excited giggle, "he won't be able to control himself!"
A beat of silence passed in which Blaise could have swore he heard evil cackling. He concluded, "You are an evil, shrewd, and . . . and . . . beastly witch."
Pansy's smile only widened as she opened the giant wooden doors. "Why, Zabini, how kind of you to notice."
Following suite, Blaise suddenly found himself feeling exceedingly sorry for Draco Malfoy.
It was the evening before the holidays officially began. The roof of the Great Hall was a mural of black darkness and white snowflakes. Even the floating candles seemed to shiver against the cold scene. Christmas spirit seemed to know no bounds this year. One of the professors had even charmed the house tapestries so that each of the four animals wore Santa Clause hats and danced about their frames happily.
Draco Malfoy scowled. Bloody Santa Clause. Bloody snow. Bloody Christmas.
Blaise slipped onto the bench next to Draco and laughed. "Oh, Ba Humbug," he teased.
Glancing at the brunette through his peripheral vision, Draco continued to scowl.
Shaking his head ruefully, Blaise began to drag various foods over to his plate. He cleared his throat, "it's not that bad, Mate. It's not like you'll be entirely alone."
Draco savagely bit the head off of a snow-man shaped cookie before replying, "I could have gone to Peru with my parents, but no. McGonagal had to go and give me that D on her exam."
"Yes, McGonagal's a fiend for marking you off for sleeping through all her classes and getting all the questions wrong."
Malfoy turned to look at the Italian boy with surprise, "Whose side are you on, anyway?"
"Hey there, Draco!" Pansy's shrill voice broke through their conversation. Suddenly, she pointed across the room and gasped, "What's that?"
Blaise's eyes widened a fraction as Draco glanced up. He shook his head at Pansy as if to say "You're dumb."
She just sneered at him as she quickly moved her robed arm over the part of the table where Draco's goblet sat, untouched. When he turned to look at her again, she shrugged. "Guess it was nothing."
For a moment, he just glared.
She smiled innocently.
"So, Draco. Planning to practice on your Wronski Feint over the holidays?" Blaise asked cheerfully with a mouth full of bread.
Draco turned to the brunette, "Maybe. I think it's a pretty outdated move, though. Even Ravenclaw's seeker would catch on." He picked up his goblet and knocked back a small sip. His expression immediately changed to one of mild surprise and he downed the rest of the juice in three gulps.
Beside him, Pansy was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
One....
When he set the goblet down, it refilled itself.
Two...
A sudden commotion broke out across the Hall and Draco looked up, curious.
Three…
Pansy watched Draco closely for any sign that the potion had worked. Nothing happened - nothing at all; he didn't even glance at her! Pansy growled deep in her throat and pulled the vial back out of her pocket. As his attention was already averted, she slipped another tablet into his drink. Looking back up at his far-away expression, she added one more . . . just in case one wasn't quite strong enough.
"Draco . . . you're not eating." She casually informed him.
He seemed to snap out of his daze and looked at her only briefly before turning his attention to the bit of roast chicken in front of him, seeming a bit shaken.
Pansy watched him for a few minutes, but then grew impatient. She suddenly cleared her throat and picked up her own goblet of pumpkin juice. She tried it and put on a blissful expression. "Mmm! They must have added something extra to the pumpkin juice, Draco. It's divine!"
He nodded lazily, digging his fork violently into a heap of mashed potatoes.
"Try it!" she insisted giddily, and proceeded to shove Draco's goblet down his throat.
He batted her away, snatching the drink from her hand. "What's gotten into you?" He asked with a slight sneer, but he drank from the goblet anyway. Pansy's smile widened hopefully.
Draco noticed it this time. Something was wrong. He stopped and glanced down at the half-empty goblet. That's when he noticed . . . it had a very peculiar hue. Just like a poti… "What did you do to my pumpkin juice, Parkinson?" he demanded, practically throwing the goblet back onto the table. It's contents splashed onto the wood, staining it crimson. A puff of white steam rose from the table-top in the shape of small hearts.
The sound of laughter filled Draco's ears and he looked across the hall to find the source of the sound. His eyes widened as his searching gaze fell again on his arch rival's smiling face. There was a sudden stirring in the pit of his stomach and he wished very much that he didn't know exactly what it meant. But, being Draco Malfoy, he knew.
Looking back down at Pansy, he noticed something else, a bottle of – were those pills? – half-hidden in the folds of her robes. He instantly snatched them from her and read the label, his breath hitching in his throat.
He looked up and caught the startling emerald green eyes of a certain Boy-Who-Lived.
Merde.
Author's Note: This is something of a prologue. So please forgive how short it is. Oh, and "merde" is the French expletive of "shit".