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 Two
Pansy's horrified blue eyes met Blaize's rather confused dark ones. She snatched the bottle out of Draco's hand, whose eyes were still locked on the Gryffindor table.
The flustered Slytherin girl turned the bottle over in her hands, searching the small print for something she might have missed. Sure enough, there it was in big, bold red letters. 'Warning: the person subjected to the love tonic must be looking directly at the one to whom the effects would be focussed on.'
Pansy then brought the thick glass bottle against her big, stupid forehead. Hard. "Ow," she mumbled quietly. How could she be so thick? Leave it to Pansy Parkinson to dash up a 'fool-proof' (for that's what was written just below the warning) love potion. She looked back up at Draco, whose gaze was still directed somewhere near the centre of the Gryffindor table.
She waved a hand in front of his face. He didn't even blink. His only movement was to brace both hands on the tabletop in front of him, looking prepared to stand up.
Feeling slightly panicky, Pansy shook his shoulder as violently as she could, "Draco!" but it had little effect; the blond only stood up, shoving her away.
"Blaize!" she pleaded, managing a tight grip around one of Draco's arms while Blaize forcefully took the other. With a little team effort, they dragged the smitten prince across the Great Hall and through the doors to the Entrance Hall, gaining many turned heads and curious expressions.
Seemingly realizing he could no longer see emerald, Draco stood up and shook off the hands of his former 'friends.' He cleared his throat, slipping one hand into his pocket. A thin eyebrow rose in a "Talk. Now." sort of way.
Pansy attempted to look indignant and apologetic all at once, resulting in a rather remarkable impression of a pigeon. "Err," was her well-thought-out explanation.
Blaize rolled his eyes impatiently and decided to translate. "She bought a bottle of love pills from some third year and thought it'd be interesting to have you suffering the effects for her over the holidays."
Draco's expression didn't waver. He was by no means an idiot. He knew exactly what had just transpired and beating around the bush wasn't going to help his unfortunate situation. "Well, Pansy, it seems I will be suffering the effects, although it doesn't appear to be towards you." He let his gaze fall to the floor in front of him. His face took on a pained expression, "and to Harry bloody Potter, no less. I think it's sufficient to say you've officially screwed up, Parkinson."
Pansy groaned, burying her guilty face in her hands. "I didn't mean—"
Suddenly, Draco chuckled, interrupting her would-be apology. "This is just grand, isn't it?" Still smiling without a trace of amusement, he pointed a threatening finger at Pansy's nose. "You will, of course, have the antidote before you leave tomorrow." The sentence had a tone of finality laced with threat.
She nodded dumbly, stepping aside as Draco sauntered past.
Blaize took a step closer to the terrified Slytherin and gave her a self-satisfied look. "I told you so," he sang, rocking back on his heels.
"Belt up! The potion worked, didn't it?" she insisted, clenching her fists. "It's not my fault the Gryffindors had to make all that noise."
The smug brunette glanced toward the doors of the Great Hall. "Tell me, dear friend: how do you plan on getting that antidote before we leave? I don't have to remind you it's first thing in the morning, do I?"
"I don't," she half-whispered, casting a wary glance behind her to make sure Draco had indeed gone. Then she started to walk an alternate route to the Slytherin Common Room, Blaize falling into step beside her.
The smug look was replaced by a mildly shocked one. "You don't? You're just going to stand aside and let you're "fiancé," as you call him, have a crush on his worst enemy for Merlin knows how long?" He sucked in air through his teeth, making a hissing sound. "That's not exactly the best plan you've had all night, Panse."
"Oh, he's just a great catch is all. There's plenty of other men out there my mother would approve of. So she'll throw a hissy fit when she finds out, but she'll get over it. It's unfortunate... but it's not like much would change anyway."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Sometimes love and hate serve exactly the same purpose," she mused, almost to herself.
Blaize almost grinned. "Draco's going to kill you. I hope you know that."
"Mm Hmm, but for now let's just kick back and enjoy the holidays. Maybe I'll ask that Hufflepuff about the antidote when we get back."
The next morning, Draco woke to find a yellow post-it note stuck to his forehead. His eyes crossed as he sleepily tried to figure out what it was. When he began to feel a head-ache coming on, he took the note off and read the hurried blue scrawl in confusion.
Draco,
I'm afraid I couldn't find the antidote in time. You'll have to wait it out until we get back.
Sincerest apologies,
Pansy and B
The rest of the second name had been a blur of smudged ink and a line whizzing to the other end of the paper. It looked like someone had tried savagely to stop Pansy's writing before the name could be finished.
Draco leapt from his bed, almost tripping on the blankets that had somehow wound themselves tightly around his legs. After a minute spent trying to untangle himself, Draco ran out of his private dormitory and into the main one. Not one of the sixth year Slytherin boys remained. He tried the common room -- not a soul. Well, there was the bloody baron looming near the fireplace, but no living soul was to be seen.
"Where is everyone?" he asked idly, already knowing the answer.
"Left this morning for the holidays," the ghost barked gruffly as he made his way through the fireplace's adjacent wall.
Crumbling the little yellow note in his hand, Draco threw it into the crackling fire moodily. How was he supposed to deal with this? The way he had looked at Potter last night.... He shuddered at the memory and then froze. "Wait, if I still think Potter's repulsive... then maybe the potion didn't work!" At this, the blond began to grin. "Not even Pansy's screw-up works right." He laughed to himself and walked back to his dorm to get ready for breakfast.
He was still smiling as he burst through the doors to the Great Hall. His eyes searched the crowd for Potter. He told himself it was just to make sure the potion was defective. When his eyes fell on their target, his smile slid away. His grey eyes blinked slowly, taking in the sight.
Potter was sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, staring sullenly at his plate while he poked it with a fork. His black hair looked unnaturally soft, and hung down around his eyes in an endearing way that tugged on Draco's heart. Even from this distance, he could see the Gryffindor's tie was missing and the top few buttons of his Oxford shirt were unbuttoned, baring his neck in a seemingly casual fashion. Draco found it extremely uncasual as he felt his own tie tighten itself around his throat, which itself had gone a bit dry.
Memories of the night before filled Draco's mind, but they were laced with a thick fog. It had been something about Pansy and pumpkin juice... hadn't it? But then his eyes focused themselves in on the brunette again and he smirked. To hell with Pansy, he found himself thinking. I want to talk to Potter.
Harry Potter sat alone at the Gryffindor table, staring holes in his breakfast. Ron and Hermione were already miles away, gone home for the holidays. So Harry was left alone at the practically empty table; Seamus and Dean were the only 6th year Gryffindors who hadn't left, but they were deeply engaged in a conversation that must have been Quidditch-related because they both looked particularly interested in whatever it was they were talking about.
He was about to get up and go for a walk around the grounds when a shadow suddenly interrupted his glaring match with the table's polished wood. His eyes roamed upwards and then widened a fraction. "What do you want, Malfoy?" His emerald eyes slid easily into an irritated glare.
Draco tilted his head, allowing a few tendrils of blond hair to fall away from his unnaturally focused grey eyes. "That's a fine hello," he said sarcastically, a smirk twitching at the side of his mouth. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you didn't like me, Potter."
"Oh, how clever you are," Harry mumbled, and his glare intensified when the Slytherin sat himself down on the other side of the table and began to fill his plate with various breakfast foods. "What are you doing now?"
Draco looked up with amusement flickering in his eyes. "Well, I don't know about you, Potter, but I think this is called having breakfast. Some civilizations do that in the mornings, you know."
"Shut up," Harry said, leaning forward as if it would make him see through the blond's odd behaviour. "You know what I meant, Malfoy! Why are you here? Go back to you own sort." He made a shoo-ing motion towards the other end of the Great Hall.
"Such a temper," the Slytherin commented. "I only wanted to have a friendly conversation. It's a wonder you've got friends at all. Although, it seems they've deserted you this year."
"Like yours are any better."
"Touché," he nodded, thinking briefly of Pansy, but at the moment he couldn't seem to remember why he was supposed to be mad at her in the first place. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember much of anything before this morning. Why was here again, at the Gryffindor table and trying to talk to Harry Potter? Didn't he hate that bloke? He looked up into his rival's handsome face and knew that no, he definitely didn't.
Harry stared hard at the pale teenager across from him. He seemed to be lost in thought, but when his eyes slid up to meet Harry's, the eyes instantly cleared and he smirked as if enjoying the confused scrutiny. What the bloody hell is going on? Harry wondered. Draco appearing out of nowhere to eat breakfast at the Gryffindor table, and trying to be jovial to boot! Suddenly realizing he'd been staring for longer than he'd meant to, Harry flushed and looked back down at his untouched plate. "Bugger off, Malfoy."
"You know, you're making it awfully hard to get along--"
"Get along?" Harry looked back up at Draco. "Get along? You've done nothing but irritate and torment me and my friends for near on to six years! And now you suddenly want to get along?"
"My friends and me, Potter," Draco corrected, seemingly unfazed by the other boy's outburst.
Harry's eyes widened before he let out a low growl, stood up and headed towards the double doors leading to the Grounds.
Draco turned pleasantly to Seamus and Dean, who had been staring during the whole exchange in suspended animation. "Must be that time of the month," he smirked before getting up to follow the Golden Boy.
It didn't take much to find him; the boy-who-lived was so very predictable. He was on his way to Hagrid's. What's more, the deep footprints in the snow weren't exactly misleading. The Slytherin took off down the make-shift trail, making a beeline for the hooded figure ahead.
At the sound of another set of boots crunching the snow behind him, Harry spun around to see Draco Malfoy careening towards him, having just slipped on one of the many ice patches throughout the Grounds.
Before he realized it, he was lying flat on his back with the insufferable Slytherin on top of him, chest-to-chest, and groin-to-groin.
"Malfoy!" he gasped out, his breath coming out in a white mist. "Get off!"
The other wizard had been equally surprised, but quickly regained his composure as he stared down at the brunette pinned beneath him. He was even more handsome than ever with his hair dotted with snowflakes and a dark pink blush coating his cheeks. He watched Harry blink as a snowflake landed on his eyelid. "Actually, I think I quite like the current arrangement." he finally said, and felt his stomach flip as if to prove the statement true.
Harry let out another gasp and his eyes widened when Draco suddenly shifted, and he felt certain nether regions moving against his own. Bloody hell, Harry thought, only dimly aware of his arms being pinned above his head. Something is definitely wrong here. He struggled recklessly against the Slytherin's hold, but he stopped when he heard a sharp moan at the contact. Suddenly feeling very angry, Harry put all of his strength into the struggle, successfully flinging Malfoy off of him and onto his back in the cold snow.
Straddling his waist to keep him still, Harry pinned his arms above his head just like Draco had done to him. He glared fiercely at the glazed grey eyes below him. "What the hell are you playing at, Malfoy?"
"Why, Potter, whatever do you mean?" he drawled silkily, lifting his head until their noses were nearly touching. For a moment, the white puffs of air coming from the Gryffindor's mouth stopped altogether.
Draco twisted his head to the side and slid his tongue up Harry's cheek.
The brunette leapt up, wiping the tainted side of his face with his sleeve. Getting frustrated with his enemy's antics, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at Draco's chest threateningly.
"Oi, what's goin' on 'ere?"
