Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the bloody plot. Don't sue me. I've
got nothing.
Warning : This is a slash pairing involving Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.
Do not read if you don't like it. Flames will be used to burn all my
fucking books in chemistry.
Author's Note : Based on Sun Tzu's The Art of War.
****************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************************
Come on baby get your shoes on Lookin' like you need a rescue Underneath the southern moonlight Where only I can find you
-Sugar by Tonic
Prologue Introduction to the Rules
"Duelers ready!"
I readied the spell I would fling at my opponent, seeing the words flash before my eyes like a golden marquee. Now there was only him, myself and the consequences our actions would take.
In front of me, I knew my adversary was preparing himself too. He brushed back a stray lock a deeper shade of gold than my own, and looked at me with piercing blue eyes that burned with cold indifference. There was no room for mistakes in this kind of battle. Your first move was your last.
That was an unspoken part of the Rules, and both of us were anything but amateurs.
"Wands down! And..."
I tensed a little as I waited for that one word.
"Fight!"
A flash of blinding white light erupts from both our wands violently and spontaneously, staining my vision with after images and flashing dark spots. I feel the heat of his spell as it makes contact with my form, spreading heatedly over my skin and consuming me with burning ice. But I fight it, and after a few seconds of painful agony, the feeling dissipates and leaves me. My opponent is not as strong as I though, because when I shift my gaze towards his form, he's motionless and crumpled on the floor, breathing hard.
I watch them as they carry him away quickly, plastering immediately the slight smirk on my face as they pass me by. I win. As usual.
Broken clapping echoes through the empty stadium. I don't have to look in the other direction to know that it is my father. He never misses a duel if he can help it, and today seems no exception.
I am both annoyed and proud of that fact.
"You followed the Rules perfectly. It was an excellent fight."
Again with the thrice-be-damned Rules. They've been an inalienable factor of about three fourths of my whole life, and it seems as if father wants to take that statistic a lot further. It's getting a little tiresome, but if he's going to praise me because of them, than I think I can bear with all this a little longer.
I can't help it if I'm a screwed up prat with parental issues.
As far back as I can remember, the rules have always existed. At 4, I could hear my father dictating them all to me in his accentless baritone, telling me exactly what they meant and how I, the heir of the Malfoy legacy, should learn them as quickly as possible.
I didn't disappoint him in that aspect. I learned how to follow the Rules perfectly before I reached my 6th birthday. By that time, I was more or less smooth to a fault, cunning, crafty and devious. I was a brat too, but I'd rather not expound on that point. It is not in my blood to acknowledge my faults and be humble.
"Anything new you can tell me about Dumbledore's Golden Boy?"
I shrug, racking my brain for every bit of information I had gathered about Boy Wonder this week. "Nothing seems to have changed, except that he's being particularly moody these days. A little bit more subdued, a little bit more angsty, but overall the same annoying prick that he's always been."
"I see."
Silence. And then more silence. I look at him and wait for some kind of sign which will tell me what he is thinking.
There is none.
"You'd better get going. If I am not mistaken, you have Care of Magical Creatures in about an hour. I will not tolerate you being late to any class, no matter how worthless I deem it to be, and have you receive marks lower than the standards I have set before you."
I nod my head slightly in acknowledgement. Of course, father.
He disappears into thin air, leaving me alone in the empty stadium.
I sigh. I don't want this anymore. I've stopped wanting this for a long time already. I don't know when this feeling started plaguing me, when winning started to become hollow, and fighting for Voldemort....meaningless.
But I know nothing else other than combat and the Rules, and even if I did, who can say if I would voluntarily separate myself from them?
I Apparate back to Hogwarts with a pop of displaced air, and disappear into my room.
****************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************************
First chapter :
Harry stumbles upon Draco Malfoy and learns his secret
Review please? Hehehe...you'll make this summer worthwhile for me if you do.
****fatalis
****************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************************
Come on baby get your shoes on Lookin' like you need a rescue Underneath the southern moonlight Where only I can find you
-Sugar by Tonic
Prologue Introduction to the Rules
"Duelers ready!"
I readied the spell I would fling at my opponent, seeing the words flash before my eyes like a golden marquee. Now there was only him, myself and the consequences our actions would take.
In front of me, I knew my adversary was preparing himself too. He brushed back a stray lock a deeper shade of gold than my own, and looked at me with piercing blue eyes that burned with cold indifference. There was no room for mistakes in this kind of battle. Your first move was your last.
That was an unspoken part of the Rules, and both of us were anything but amateurs.
"Wands down! And..."
I tensed a little as I waited for that one word.
"Fight!"
A flash of blinding white light erupts from both our wands violently and spontaneously, staining my vision with after images and flashing dark spots. I feel the heat of his spell as it makes contact with my form, spreading heatedly over my skin and consuming me with burning ice. But I fight it, and after a few seconds of painful agony, the feeling dissipates and leaves me. My opponent is not as strong as I though, because when I shift my gaze towards his form, he's motionless and crumpled on the floor, breathing hard.
I watch them as they carry him away quickly, plastering immediately the slight smirk on my face as they pass me by. I win. As usual.
Broken clapping echoes through the empty stadium. I don't have to look in the other direction to know that it is my father. He never misses a duel if he can help it, and today seems no exception.
I am both annoyed and proud of that fact.
"You followed the Rules perfectly. It was an excellent fight."
Again with the thrice-be-damned Rules. They've been an inalienable factor of about three fourths of my whole life, and it seems as if father wants to take that statistic a lot further. It's getting a little tiresome, but if he's going to praise me because of them, than I think I can bear with all this a little longer.
I can't help it if I'm a screwed up prat with parental issues.
As far back as I can remember, the rules have always existed. At 4, I could hear my father dictating them all to me in his accentless baritone, telling me exactly what they meant and how I, the heir of the Malfoy legacy, should learn them as quickly as possible.
I didn't disappoint him in that aspect. I learned how to follow the Rules perfectly before I reached my 6th birthday. By that time, I was more or less smooth to a fault, cunning, crafty and devious. I was a brat too, but I'd rather not expound on that point. It is not in my blood to acknowledge my faults and be humble.
"Anything new you can tell me about Dumbledore's Golden Boy?"
I shrug, racking my brain for every bit of information I had gathered about Boy Wonder this week. "Nothing seems to have changed, except that he's being particularly moody these days. A little bit more subdued, a little bit more angsty, but overall the same annoying prick that he's always been."
"I see."
Silence. And then more silence. I look at him and wait for some kind of sign which will tell me what he is thinking.
There is none.
"You'd better get going. If I am not mistaken, you have Care of Magical Creatures in about an hour. I will not tolerate you being late to any class, no matter how worthless I deem it to be, and have you receive marks lower than the standards I have set before you."
I nod my head slightly in acknowledgement. Of course, father.
He disappears into thin air, leaving me alone in the empty stadium.
I sigh. I don't want this anymore. I've stopped wanting this for a long time already. I don't know when this feeling started plaguing me, when winning started to become hollow, and fighting for Voldemort....meaningless.
But I know nothing else other than combat and the Rules, and even if I did, who can say if I would voluntarily separate myself from them?
I Apparate back to Hogwarts with a pop of displaced air, and disappear into my room.
****************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************************
First chapter :
Harry stumbles upon Draco Malfoy and learns his secret
Review please? Hehehe...you'll make this summer worthwhile for me if you do.
****fatalis