A/N: Sorry for being a little late with this one!
By the way, the power of the people reigns. Stay tuned for a rating change ;)
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Chapter 28
The Man Who Just Wouldn't Die
Despite the hum of excitement that had taken over the entire Empire, despite the warmth of a hot summer sun and despite the anticipation of a great sporting feat, Draco was doused in cold fear.
Sitting on the window ledge in Harry's chambers, he watched the city get ready for this afternoon's Tournament through the glass with sad eyes. Servants were running around, placing green and silver decorations all over the place. Markets and stalls had been set up to merchandise such a public event. Street entertainers were many and loud, dancing and juggling in their fashion. Men and women crowded the streets outside the Castle for their chance to see royalty and perhaps even the unknown warrior who was newly declared the Prince's Champion. All in all, the day was set for a national holiday. Spirits were high, alcohol was flowing and money was being spent by the galleons.
There really was no reason for anyone to be upset.
But the frown on Draco's face hadn't left him for a few days now and it wasn't about to stop now. He found it ironic that the last time the Empire had been swept up in a similar state of hysteria that a Tournament brought was during Harry's first day here. Back then, Draco had been a keen observer, eagerly watching the action before him as Harry had fought man and beast alike. But this time, Draco would have done anything to stop Harry from going through it over again. In the past few weeks since they'd known each other, something had changed.
"You're acting like I've already lost," came Harry's voice from behind him.
Draco turned and saw his bodyguard in his undershirt and breeches, obviously getting dressed for his Challenge. Harry's armour was on his bed, ready to be donned. Draco tried to put a lighter expression on his face. "No I'm not."
Harry made a gentle face and smiled. But Draco knew it wasn't a genuine one. "It'll be fine."
His tone and expression only convinced Draco that it wouldn't be fine. He turned away from Harry and back to the window to hide his concerned features. He wasn't sure what was happening to him, but the very thought of Harry losing and dying brought such a heavy feeling of sorrow and despair that Draco wasn't sure what do to. His concern for Harry just kept mounting and so had the guilt. He felt guilty for not picking up the gauntlet in the first place. If he had, Harry wouldn't be facing certain death.
"Draco, just relax."
He whirled around and shot Harry a hurt look. "Relax?" he snapped. "Bloody hell, Harry, the Tournament's about to begin! Stop trying to act like everything's calm."
Harry dropped his shoulder and walked forward the few steps it took to stand before Draco's perched spot. "Look, I'm nervous, I'll admit it. But it won't do any good thinking about it. We'll just take it as it comes. Whatever happens, happens." He shrugged as if it didn't bother him at all, but this only made Draco angrier.
"Could you be a little less blasé about this? You could lose your life."
"I know."
Draco stared into Harry's eyes and stood up so that they were facing each other head on. Caught up in frustration, he hit Harry lightly on the chest and took a deep breath. "Just stop it."
Harry maintained his footing and didn't make a comment on Draco's hit. "Draco, everyone already knows I'm the unlikely opponent. People expect me to die." His face softened. "How do you think it makes me feel when the one person I'm doing all of this for, doesn't think I'm going to make it?"
Draco almost swallowed his tongue and felt guilt like he'd never known before suffuse every pore in his body. Harry was angry with him. But what made it worse was the calm manner in which he was expressing himself. Draco decided he would have preferred it if Harry was yelling at him.
Hearing that Harry was doing all of this for him sent duel waves of warmth and dread into him simultaneously.
"Harry..." he muttered, now knowing what else to say.
"I need you on my side."
"I am on your side," Draco blurted.
"Then do you believe that I'm going to win?" Harry asked.
In his head, Draco knew Harry's chances were slim. But in his heart, he believed Harry's every word. "Yes," he said eventually.
"Then so do I," Harry responded, giving Draco a small but genuine smile that had Draco's heart racing. "All those hours doing extra training can't have been for nothing. I'll give as good as I get."
"I will be supremely angry if you didn't," Draco murmured.
Harry's features lightened. "Hey, I killed a man-eating lion last time. What's a giant?"
His light heartedness was contagious and Draco felt his mouth lift, despite the ache inside him. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was goodbye; that they might as well have been going to Harry's funeral. A pang of hurt shot through his body and Draco wanted to selfishly gather every remaining moment with his bodyguard. He suddenly remembered the conversation he'd had with Pansy a few days ago, when she had asked Draco how well he knew Harry. He had been shocked to discover he knew very little. Deciding that now was the time to get his answers, he blurted, "What's your favourite food?"
As expected, Harry looked at him absurdly, his face morphed into confusion and surprise. He peered into Draco's face, as if wondering if he'd gone insane. "What?"
Draco smiled a little more. "What's your favourite food?" he repeated.
"Why would you ask me that?" Harry asked rightly.
"Because I hardly know anything about you," Draco replied, "and now is as good a time as any to find out."
If Harry realised that Draco was having this conversation because he thought Harry might be killed soon, he didn't let on. Instead, he smiled. "A nice juicy steak," Harry answered, amused.
Draco made a mock face of disgust. "Plebian," he murmured in jest.
"Ponce," Harry retorted, grinning happily.
"Prince," Draco corrected, giving Harry a look.
"You wish."
Draco rolled his eyes, knowing he should never have told Harry that he wasn't actually the Heir of Slytherin. "Your favourite pastime?" he asked in an effort to steer the conversation away from his dubious right to the Throne.
Harry gave him another cheeky grin before adopting a pensive look. "I'm not sure. Maybe just spending time with my friends back home."
Home, Draco thought sullenly. Back in Hufflepuff. Harry's home will never be here. Trying his best to cover his feeling of hurt of being excluded in Harry's answer, Draco asked, "Who?"
Harry smiled sadly. "My best friend's name is Ron. Ron Weasley." He shrugged. "He's probably wondering where I've been all this time. Then there's Remus, who's been my guardian since I was little. He's—" Harry stopped and frowned sadly. "He's the one that got taken when I was brought here."
Guilt weighed down on Draco once more. He knew Harry had long since wanted to know where they were keeping his kidnapped friend, but Draco didn't know to tell him. That being said, Draco had never even made the effort to find out. He silently vowed he would, and if—when—Harry won today's Tournament, he'd tell him.
"Do you miss them?" Draco asked.
"Terribly. Wish they were here."
Draco knew the bolt of jealously that sliced through him was completely uncalled for but he couldn't help it. Harry would rather have his friends here in these last hours, than Draco. Inwardly, he felt disgusted in himself for vesting all his energy and emotions on being accepted by this one man. He couldn't understand why suddenly, all he craved was Harry's approval of him.
"But," Harry continued, giving Draco one of his smiles, "the present company's not that bad either."
It took a fraction of a second to realise what Harry was saying and Draco was smiling back at him, aware that he was dangerously close to blushing. He swallowed audibly.
"Who else?" Draco asked.
Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Er … well, there's the boys I grew up training with, the Professor, and—" Harry snorted amusedly "—Ginny."
"Ginny?" Draco inquired, wondering if she was Harry's sister.
"My supposed fiancé."
"What?" Draco blurted, then snapped his jaw shut immediately, not wanting his sudden outrage to be known.
It was useless because Harry was grinning broadly, looking rather pleased with Draco's reaction. "Didn't I tell you?"
"No," Draco snapped, entirely offended. Harry had a bleeding fiancé?
"She's Ron's younger sister. Everyone in Hufflepuff thought she and I'd be getting married."
Draco narrowed his eyes and asked cautiously, "And you're not?" He hoped the hint of desperation in his voice wasn't noticeable.
"Well, for one thing, I'm here and she's there, so that presents a slight problem," Harry pointed out, making Draco exceedingly glad Harry was kidnapped in the first place. "Plus, I don't really like her, so I have no idea how I'll ever marry her."
To say that Draco felt relieved would be an understatement. Still, Draco despised Astoria but was being forced to marry her. Would Harry be forced to marry whats-her-face? Draco silently vowed to never make Harry leave the Empire again.
Harry continued with a non-committal shrug. "I suppose you could say we've kind of been intended for each other since we were young."
"But you don't fancy her," Draco said, almost to reassure himself of this.
"Not really. I mean, she's a nice girl. But ... I can't see her as my wife," Harry answered.
"Why not?"
Harry shrugged again. "Not my type."
Draco was absolutely itching to ask what Harry's type was but refrained himself in the last second. It wouldn't be proper to ask such stupid questions.
"But," Harry added, "I'm sure if I ever return to Hufflepuff, I won't be able to stop anything like that from happening. It would be expected." They made eye-contact. "Just like you can't stop your marriage to Astoria."
Draco felt bile in his throat. Forcing himself to adopt a calm exterior, he said, "Well for your sake, I hope your girl is at least a little more tolerable than Astoria."
Harry caught Draco's gaze with his bright green eyes. "Even if she is, I still don't want her."
Draco swallowed at Harry's nearness and swore he could smell Harry's scent all around him. "There are many things we have that we don't want."
"And too many we want that we can't have," Harry added, drilling his gaze into Draco. With a whisper, he asked, "What if we could change that?"
"How?"
"Do things our way; the way we want."
Draco wasn't sure what Harry was alluding to, but the idea behind his words was intoxicating. "It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be proper."
"Well, that's the thing. You'd have to throw 'proper' out the window," Harry said with a small knowing smirk on his face.
Draco smirked as well. "I'm the Prince of Slytherin. My life is dictated by what's proper."
"Don't you sometimes wish you could break free of it all?"
"Now I do," Draco replied honestly.
They stood in silence for a long and entrancing moment, staring at each other and tossing ideas in their heads that could only ever live in their imaginations. All his life, Draco had never questioned what was expected of him. But in the few weeks since he'd known Harry, everything had changed. Suddenly, being the Prince was a hindrance rather than a blessing. He wanted to live the life he wanted; do the things he wanted to do and act in ways that defied everything about his family and his position.
"Then do it," Harry said eventually, in a voice so soft, Draco first thought it was in his head. "Be different. Do what you want to do."
Draco stared at him, deep into his magnetic eyes. He was startled that Harry had just spoken the very words he had been thinking. And then, suddenly, it was as if all his inhibitions fled from him, and all he could think about was stepping even nearer to the man before him and into his embrace. It wouldn't be right. It would go against everything. But Harry had just challenged him to do whatever he wanted to do. And all Draco wanted to do was kiss Harry.
Trumpets blared outside.
Draco stepped back, away from Harry, suddenly feeling fear invade every cell in his body and despair gut his stomach. They maintained their unbroken soul-searching gaze, both understanding what the trumpet sound meant.
It was time.
Wordlessly, Harry moved towards the bed and put on his chain mail and armour, Draco's royal crest on his breastplate and shield: the image of a silver sparrow in flight across an emerald background. When he was dressed, fully prepared for battle, Draco observed him with a mix of wonder and anxiety. He was a sight to behold. Draco felt a rush of pride knowing this was his Champion.
While Harry approached him, Draco reached to the nearby table and picked up Harry's sword. He swallowed and slowly handed it to Harry when he stood within reach. Their hands needn't have touched, but Harry took the sword off him making sure their fingers toyed with each other. The warmth of Harry's touch was a sick paradox to the feel of the cold steel in their hands.
"I'll fight for you, Draco," he said with a strong and firm voice. "I'll spend my last breath and last drop of strength making sure you are never given over to Durmstrang's mercy. That's my promise to you."
Draco felt the heat of tears form behind his eyes and fought to keep his strength. He shook his head, deciding Harry's promise wasn't good enough for him. "No, promise me you'll live."
Harry searched his eyes and gave him a sad smile. "I promise to try."
Draco knew that was the best he would get. Harry's promising that he would live would be meaningless words until they knew the final outcome of today's Tournament. All Harry could do was promise to try. And he'd done that.
Now all Draco could do was hope.
-mp-
"You look unwell," the King observed nonchalantly, keeping his head facing forward while a handful of servants made sure the final touches of his appearance were flawless. Beside him, Draco's mother was waiting patiently while a servant girl fixed a stray lock of hair.
Draco wasn't sure how his father could make such a statement when they weren't even making eye contact. Nevertheless, he shrugged, flicking away the irritating hands of one of his own servants who was fixing the crown on his head. He wasn't about to tell his father, of all people, the reason for his gloom. He thought of Harry once more, wondering what he must be thinking wherever he was, ready to be led into the centre of the amphitheatre, where he awaited his opponent. Draco hoped Harry wasn't as nervous as he was.
"Answer me, Draco," the King murmured.
"I'm fine," Draco said shortly.
"You know," the King began with a sneer, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were actually concerned for your bodyguard."
Draco flinched. Concerned didn't even begin to express what he felt for Harry. "I'm not," he lied. "I'm sure Harry is fine."
The King frowned and his upper lip curled into a disgusted sneer, but said nothing.
His mother spoke next, "Where were you earlier, darling? Your father and I were wondering what took you so long to arrive here."
"I was with Harry in his chambers, helping him get—"
Suddenly, the King whirled toward him and shot him a furious glare that had Draco almost fall backward in shock. "Fath—?"
"Stop calling him that, you impudent child!" he hissed strongly. Draco opened his mouth in outrage, but was forbidden from speaking when his father continued. "He is your guard; your servant, Draco. Have you no self-respect? You are the Crown Prince of Slytherin. Perhaps you might consider acting like it, and not some unworthy peasant who concerns himself with trivial matters. Your name is far more important than his. I suggest you uphold it."
Draco took rapid breaths, in an effort to calm himself down. The urge to shout back at his own father in defence of Harry was clawing at him. He glanced at his mother through the corner of his eyes and saw she was not about to make any effort to intercede. Evidently, she shared her husband's view.
The King spat, "He is no one, and if I come to know that you are treating him as more than he is, I will personally take the matter into my own hands, and order that he be killed."
Draco gasped audibly. "No!" His heart was beating madly in fear and anger. He didn't even care that he had just revealed to his father that he cared for Harry more than he should; the idea that Draco's compassion may be Harry's death sentence was too much. Harry already had his date with destiny in a few moments; another threat to his life from the King himself would shatter Draco.
The King glared at him one last time before straightening up. As if on cue, the trumpets announcing the arrival of the Royal family blared and a loud, deep voice proclaim, "All rise for King Lucius, his Queen Narcissa, and their son Prince Draco!"
The roar of the crowd resounded in their little foyer that was attached to their pavilion box at one edge of the amphitheatre. Draco, whose heart was still clutching in pain and terror, tried to force all his emotions and followed his parents out into the shaded box.
He squinted at the harsh daylight and the increasing volume of sound that crashed into his skull as he stepped outside before the multitude of Slytherins. He made his way to his Throne, not even bothering to wave, too sick to even make a show of merriment. His parents spent a moment on the edge of their box, waving stoically to the crowds, before taking their seats. The King, naturally, was seated between them in the centre of the space, with his wife on his right, and his son on his left.
While the crowds were still yelling and filling the stadium with the noise of a torrent of water, Draco felt his father lean towards him and murmur, "I meant what I said, Draco. I have noticed that you are acting a way that is ill-befitting of a Prince. One more slip and I will have your bodyguard killed. Do you understand me?"
Facing forward so as not to meet his father's gaze, Draco clenched his teeth and forced himself to nod his acknowledgement, even though it killed him inside.
The announcer called for silence and Draco sat numbly as the multitude of Slytherins slowly quietened, anxiously waiting what was next. Beside Draco, his father stood up and approached the edge of the pavilion to address his subjects. Draco couldn't help but feel a wave of despise wash through him as he washed his father from behind. He couldn't believe the casual manner in which he dealt with the issue of Harry's very life.
"As you know," the King began to speak to the resounding silence, "today is a significant day for my son and myself and indeed, the entire Empire. Will we find retribution for the ceaseless attacks against the Empire? Will Slytherin triumph?" Not a sound was made; the King's every word held the crowd in suspense. "Yes. We will. Our Empire is bigger than her enemies. Our fight will be victorious; our victory remembered ..."
While his father spoke, Draco scowled inwardly at his self-glorifying speech. Today's Tournament had nothing to do with him. It made Draco sick that the one person who had the most to gain and lose in this Challenge would never be mentioned; the one person whose name Draco was forbidden to speak. If it were Draco up there, he decided his speech would have been remarkably different. Once again, Draco cast his mind to Harry, and sending up a quick prayer, hoping that he was handling the situation with less anxiety than Draco was.
There was a slight flurry of activity around him when the Tournament announcer took over the speaking once more. Draco looked behind him and felt his heart drop. There was Astoria Greengrass, dressed in a deep emerald dress that left her arms bare and her chest incredibly exposed, leering at him with her own special brand of repugnance. A servant led her over to Draco's side and it was only then he noticed the smaller throne that had been set up adjacent to his.
"Hello, darling," she breathed airily, making chills creep into Draco's blood, as she took her place beside him, smiling grandly to the crowds, effectively making their engagement public.
Draco spared her a brief noncommittal look before turning his attention back to the stadium, steadfastly ignoring her. So his mother hadn't been lying when she said that Astoria would be accompanying him to the Tournament, Draco mused in despair. He could hardly believe he was about to watch Harry fight for his life while Astoria sat beside him. In a bizarre way, Draco almost felt like he was betraying Harry by having Astoria with him.
Draco felt sick to the stomach.
He dimly heard the announcer call out the name of the Durmstrang giant, who plundered into the stadium from the left door, dressed in the full armour of his country, looking twice as large as he appeared last time they had met. Draco was convinced the man had grown at least six feet, and his sword looked to be the length of Draco's whole body.
Then, Draco heard the call announcing Harry's arrival. His name wasn't mentioned; only his title as the Prince's Champion—a title which had carried to all corners of the Empire so that everyone had heard of this new and mysterious swordsman who would represent the Prince.
Draco watched as his bodyguard entered the stadium through the right door to the resounding screams of the onlooking crowd. Draco's heart raced. Harry looked incredible in his armour, though Draco couldn't help but marvel at how small he was compared to the giant. As Harry walked, he had his sword ready gripping in his palm, already anticipating the fight.
His father, who was still standing at the edge of the pavilion, looking out to the stadium, motioned for silence once more with a small wave of his hand. The crowd obeyed instantly, shutting up and turning toward their sovereign.
The King looked down in Harry's direction and Draco's heart stalled, wondering what his father was about to say. Keeping his gaze locked firmly on Harry, Draco only wished he could be down there with him.
The King spoke in the pregnant hush. "You chose to retrieve the gauntlet that was meant for the Prince and have chosen to take part in this Challenge. Do you swear to duel in an honourable manner, worthy of the Prince's Champion? Do you swear to do everything in your power to ensure he lives? And if it comes to it, are you willing to lay down your life for your Prince?"
Draco held his breath in utter despair. He hadn't known his father would ask this of Harry in this moment, and it almost made Draco think that if Harry said no, he could still get out of it. But knowing Harry, he never would. Harry had sworn he would sacrifice his life for Draco's
Draco awaited Harry's answer.
It came in the next moment.
"I swear it."
It was like the final nail to his coffin, shattering his heart into pieces. Draco felt the breath knocked out of him. Beside him, he heard Astoria give a breathy giggle that made him want to throttle her.
"Then let the Tournament begin!"
Numb with inevitable terror, Draco watched the guards on the perimeters of the stadium rush forward to give both Harry and the giant their helmets, the final pieces that would complete their armour. Once Harry's had slipped on his head, he flexed his neck a few times and turned to face his opponent, crouching to keep a spring in his limbs, ready to pounce in attack.
The Durmstrang warrior turned to face Harry, assessing his foe. The initial moment of calm before the Challenge extended into a tense silence, making Draco start to sweat.
But then, the giant made a first move. Belying his huge size, he moved with such speed that Draco's eyes shot open and he gasped loudly.
Harry was ready, planting his feet firmly on the ground and holding off this first attack, with a defending block of his swords. The steels of their weapons slid past each other and the momentum of the movement, caused Harry and his foe to switch positions. Harry whirled around to face him, swinging his sword forward until it met with another resounding clash. The crowd's response was eager, calling out their enthusiasm.
A series of short and sharp executions with the two blades followed in a brilliant show of expert swordsmanship. Draco felt a tiny part of him relax, knowing that Harry was very prepared for this. He looked in control of the fight; anticipating every attack and keeping the giant away from his person at all times.
Draco knew Harry was a phenomenal fighter; possibly the best he had ever seen. He had won every single battle he'd been in, and comfortably. Nothing seemed too impossible for him.
"I wonder how long it will last," Astoria remarked casually, as if a fight to the death was not being played out right before her eyes.
Draco clenched his jaw and fists. "Why, did you have somewhere else to be?"
Astoria giggled again. The sound made Draco want to hurl. "Oh no, it's just that all this sport is terribly barbaric. It's not right for us noblewomen to sit and watch these bloody and gruesome games. What's it to me who wins or loses?"
Fire swept within Draco and every muscle in him tensed in wrath. The wench! How dare she! Draco couldn't stand to look at her and he kept his eyes trained on Harry, knowing that it may not have mattered to Astoria, but it mattered all too much to Draco who would win and who would lose. Draco could hardly imagine the grief he would feel if Harry lost.
That he had only really known Harry for a little more than a month seemed not to matter. That amount of time seemed to be enough for Harry to take a place in Draco's heart.
Heart in his mouth, he watched Harry fight.
-mp-
Seeing Astoria sitting beside Draco had Harry's blood boiling in anger. It was the last thing he wanted to see. He felt a part of his heart break, knowing that the girl beside Draco would get to spend the rest of her life with the Prince, and rip that privilege out of Harry's ...
What, Harry, he thought angrily. Out of my hands? Was being with Draco ever a possibility?
Furious and upset, he poured all his emotion into the fight. Dodging the swings of the Durmstrang giant would have been easier if Harry didn't have a million thoughts running wild in his head.
He knew he was out of line. He knew he had no place in Draco's life apart from being his bodyguard. He knew he shouldn't even think of Draco by his first name.
But, so help him, Harry couldn't help it. Something deep had changed in him; something that made him want Draco in a way he'd never felt before. To then see Astoria beside him was gut-wrenching.
Focus, Harry, focus on the fight.
Frowning with rage, Harry gritted his teeth and put everything he had in his sword swing. He had made a promise to fight for Draco. And he would. Even if it killed him.
His opponent was fierce and strong, and Harry knew he would need to use his speed and agility to win. So he ducked, rolled, side-stepped and whirled at every opportunity, trying to distract the giant and get him frustrated to the point of error.
The crowd around them had blurred in his mind, and all Harry noticed was the fight before him and Draco watching him. He saw the Durmstrang warrior come at him with a powerful blow and Harry spun on his heels in the last second, hearing their clash of steel like music in his ears. In the turn, he caught sight of Draco in the pavilion and Astoria half-draped over him, whispering something in his ear.
Harry let out an anguished snarl and spun back to the giant with a mighty thrust, catching him off guard, forcing him into a last-second defensive stance. Harry followed it with another, and another, and another, forcing the giant back and creeping forward in the meantime. Every one of his attacks was infused with desperate anger towards his and Draco's situation. All Harry wanted to do was be by his side. He allowed himself another glimpse of Draco up in the pavilion, and saw Astoria clutching his arm like a bloody leach.
Unfortunately, this was all the distraction his enemy was waiting for.
Harry suddenly felt agony blaze across his right arm—
"Ah!" he exclaimed in pain. His grip on his sword went slack, as he turned his head to see the giant staring at his menacingly through the slit of his helmet, twirling his sword with ease, obviously in a pose of intimidation.
Harry grimaced and held onto his right bicep with his left hand, wondering how he had let himself be so distracted.
The giant attacked again, swinging his blade with power and Harry had just enough strength left in his right arm to hold off the blow. When their weapons collided, Harry felt like his entire arm was on fire.
"Agh!" he cried out again, feeling the hilt of his sword escape his fingers.
Suddenly, he was weaponless.
Harry's blood ran cold and he had just enough frame of mind to stop terror setting in. Now wasn't the time to panic; he needed to focus and move before the next strike. Keeping his eyes on the giant, who was watching him easily—like a cat might taunt a mouse—Harry scrambled back and away from the giant, towards his fallen sword. He needed to get it back.
The Durmstrang warrior must have seen what Harry was aiming for and so with thunderous footsteps, he approached the struggling Champion.
Harry had just enough time to hope this wasn't the end of him when he felt an almighty kick to his stomach.
Air rushed out of him, his spine curled and he screamed in pain, falling on his wounded side on the ground. Burning fire rushed through his aching body.
He hated how he must have looked. Like a coward, writhing on the ground.
Get up! Get up, Harry!
His body wouldn't listen.
Then suddenly, the giant kicked again. In his chest.
Harry cried out in agony, clenching his jaw. Was this the end? Was this how he would die?
Strangely, the one thought that entered his mind was Draco.
-mp-
HARRY! Draco's mind screamed, as he felt tears collect on the lid of his eyes. He almost couldn't stand to watch, but he knew that if this was Harry's demise, he would give Harry the final honour of watching him die like the respected soldier he was.
Harry was on the ground. His weapon out of reach. At the mercy of the giant Durmstrang warrior, holding his body to withstand the agony.
Get up, Harry. Get up for me. Don't die. You can't die.
It was unbearable to see Harry in so much pain, fighting a fight that should have been Draco's. It took everything Draco had to not let his tears escape, not wanting anyone around him realise how much he felt towards his Champion.
The giant delivered another kick and even from his far distance, Draco actually heard Harry give out a loud roar of pain. The sound cut his heart. The giant stood back once more, observing his fallen prey, wondering how best to kill him. Draco felt a dark blackness take over his heart, realising Harry was near death. He suddenly became desperate. He still didn't know Harry well enough! He hadn't asked Harry who his family was! Draco realised he wanted to know everything about Harry, and that opportunity was about to be ripped right from his hands.
The giant made his final approach, sword in hand, ready to kill.
Then—
Suddenly—
Harry moved.
With speed and agility and surprising strength.
As if the pain he had just suffered was nothing.
Within a moment, he reached his sword and it was back in his hands, where it belonged.
His foe was stunned.
The crowd was amazed.
Eyes wide, Draco felt relief like he had never known before flood his body so that his limbs felt weak.
He watched as Harry stood, armed with his blade facing the giant with strength no one knew he possessed. Harry didn't allow the moment to linger. He pounced. Rushing at the giant and letting out an enraged roar.
The giant stood no chance.
Harry's sword struck through his defences, piercing his exposed neck. The enormous warrior immediately dropped to his knees with Harry's sword stabbed in his throat. Harry held his weapon embedded for a few seconds before ripping the bloodied blade out savagely.
The last threads of life were choked out of the giant and before Draco knew it, he was dead, and Harry stood panting above him.
There was silence for a brief second. Then, the crowds roared like never before, screaming, yelling, shouting, praising.
"CHAMPION! CHAMPION! CHAMPION!" they exalted with noise that shook the very foundations of the stadium.
Draco, frozen with absolute relief, couldn't take his eyes off Harry.
Harry.
The man who just wouldn't die.
Hysterical laughter bubbled up within him. All Draco wanted to do was shout his happiness, run down to Harry and touch him to make sure he was actually still alive. He couldn't believe it! Harry was alive! He wasn't sure how he did it. It seemed to all that Harry had given up; he looked like he was about to die. But out of nowhere, he got up!
It took every ounce of restraint to not get out of his chair and rush towards Harry.
"Oh, he won, did he?" he heard Astoria asked dumbly, as she looked up and around, wondering what all the noise was about.
Draco felt like punching her.
"Yes, he did," he managed to say curtly in a controlled voice, not letting his excitement escape from his mouth.
"I thought for sure he would die," she remarked.
"Well, he didn't," Draco snapped.
Then, the King stood up from his Throne and approached the edge of the box they were in. It took a long moment for the crowd to quieten as they were all still brimming with shouts of praise for Harry. If it were up to Draco, he would have let them.
"MY PEOPLE!" the King proclaimed once the noise level had receded. "SLYTHERIN IS VICTORIOUS!"
The almighty din rose past the boundaries of the stadium once more in celebration but Draco was again furious at his father's declaration. Slytherin had nothing to do with it. This victory was all about Harry! He held in his anger and instead simply sat, keeping his eyes locked on Harry. He was almost scared to look away; like if he did, Harry would somehow disappear and Draco would think his victory had been a dream.
After a while, Draco watched as Harry was led out of the stadium by a pair of Slytherin soldiers and, unable to contain himself anymore, Draco stood and left as well, not caring what his parents or Astoria thought.
He rushed to see Harry.
-mp-
Next Chapter: Harry and Draco find out the forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.
