CHAPTER 6: FEAR OF FAILED RIVALRIES
"Bow to your opponent," Both boys obeyed the command, without breaking eye contact, just as they did, during the ill-fated duelling club three years previously, "Three, two…"
"Rictumsempra." Draco shouted before the count was finished, casting a tickling charm, which Harry was barely able to dodge. Harry shot a jelly legs curse in response; the blond was just as quick. Neither of them noticed their irate grandfather, who in his capacity as the referee was annoyed at Draco's blatant cheating. They continued to exchange curses as they dodged dizziness curses, and absorbed the slowing charm in the basic shields they had hastily erected. Harry was extremely careful to avoid several curses that he hadn't heard of, most of them, he suspected, were probably dark and only barely legal.
After about five minutes Harry heard Draco cry, "Ancile," and perform a short series of complicated wand manoeuvres, which Harry recognised as an advanced shielding charm, something he hadn't learnt while preparing for the Triwizard Tournament during the previous year. Slightly perturbed, Harry sent a confusion curse at his opponent, only for it to bounce back accompanied by a banishing hex cast by Malfoy. Dodging one and ducking the other, the raven-haired boy formed a plan as he realised that the duel was not going in his favour.
"Serpensortia," he cried, hoping to surprise Malfoy and physically weaken him at the same time, "Injure him," he hissed in parseltongue at the summoned snake while dodging another curse, "but not too badly."
The Snake slithered forward, quickly reaching and biting the somewhat surprised Slytherin in the leg. Taking advantage of his opponent's distraction and praying that the surprise had forced Draco to drop his shield Harry followed up with a disarming charm, which caused Draco's wand to come zooming towards him. Tossing the wand aside and pocketing his own, Harry was thankfully that Remus, with Valerie's help, had healed his remaining injuries the previous evening. He charged at his opponent hoping to cause as much injury as possible, as compensation for all the pain that the Xanthochroid had caused over the years. His blazing eyes focused on Draco, as the blond dispelled the snake and made a dash for his wand. Harry tackled him to the ground long before the Slytherin could reach it. Malfoy struggled to break free, kicking and punching indiscriminately, as he rolled over towards his wand, wounding Harry in the process. Recovering, Harry responded with a punch to the face.
The wands lay forgotten as blows were traded and repressed emotions of bitterness, fury and hatred were unleashed on a sworn enemy. It was eventually Harry who gained the upper hand, his experience of dodging Dudley Dursley was unmatched by wizard bred Draco who simply could not fight without a wand. Severe blood loss was also hampering the blond, as he had sustained a broken nose from one of Harry's more vicious combinations of punches. The snakebite was also bothering him. Weakened, the Malfoy heir began to falter, nevertheless, he carried on anyway; he would not show weakness in front of his worst enemy. Slowly, anger and hatred began to give way to determination and fear. He would not let down the family name, he declared defiantly. With a growing horror, he realised that his father would hear of this, and he would be punished for it. Punishments, which lurked in the distant corners of Draco's nightmares; not that he was beaten or cursed without reason. He was not abused, he knew he deserved all the pain his failures brought him. Finally, along with the fear, came the familiar self-doubt. He heard the distant echoes of his father's insults, which perennially haunted his memory. "Not worthy," his mind told him, "Failure," his brain added. It was then, last of all, that he realised the truth of those words. His father was right.
"Forgive me father," he croaked as fear and sadness flooded his delicate face, "I am a failure," he added when tears began to well in his eyes, "I am not worthy of a Malfoy," Despair began to fill Draco's heart, "I surrender," he gasped despondently moments before unconsciousness claimed him. The fight had already stopped.
Harry was in shock. He had not expected this; never had he dreamed that Malfoy could be so human, so insecure. To see his school rival in so much pain had surprised him. He always seemed so confidant, so self-assured yet underneath he was just another insecure little boy trying desperately to live up to the impossible expectations placed on him by his father, just as the wizarding world at large had given him the impossible burden of being 'The Boy-Who-Lived'. They were surprisingly similar really, underneath their respective facades; both of them were desperate to prove themselves to a sceptical world. Harry thought back to the words of the sorting hat, "a nice thirst to prove yourself," had been the exact words, that need had diminished over the years he had been at Hogwarts, but it still remained, if only for the sake of the parents he had never known. But for Malfoy the pressure had only increased, with each failure. Harry recalled another memory, of the day he had first used Floo Powder, and ended up in Knockturn Alley, in Borgin and Burkes. He remembered the taunts that Draco had endured, and Lucius' complaints about his grades. Of course, he'd laughed at it at the time, but he'd never stopped to think of it from Malfoy's point of view. He had forgotten what living with the Dursley's had been like, and that at one stage Harry had genuinely believed he was a worthless freak, until that is he started to get some of the best grades in his class at Primary School and his teacher managed to convince him that he was a worthwhile person after all. In many ways they were opposites, poster boys of light and dark, yet, at the same time there were striking similarities between them, they were both above average academically, both good Quidditch players and they were both overwhelmed by expectations. In many ways, Harry realised, as they looked back they were kindred spirits. The blond had always been able to generate extreme emotions in Harry, right from the first meeting in Madam Malkin's where he had met a small spoilt brat, who reminded him so much of Dudley. Malfoy, however, was nothing like Dudley, sure they were spoilt but otherwise they were completely different.
"The two of you will be good friends." A familiar, misty sort of voice, said. He looked up to see Professor Trelawney sitting beside him. Beyond her Harry saw a crowd of people gathered around Draco's motionless body. Sam's wife, Valerie, a qualified Medi-Witch, tended to him. He saw Narcissa Malfoy, kneeling beside him concern clearly visible on her normally emotionless face. Harry felt a little jealous.
"I suppose your Inner Eye told you that." Harry replied cynically, pausing to let the words echo in his mind. Despite his harsh comment, he desperately hoped that for once the divination was right. He knew he could never hate Malfoy ever again, not after this. Yet, Malfoy, always would hate him, he'd humiliated him, yet again, and forced him to lay bare his deepest fears in front of everybody. The blond would be bitter, as bitter as someone could ever be. He'd probably be plotting his revenge from the moment he woke up. He knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
"You do not an Inner Eye to see the future in this instance," The Professor commented, "The two of you would be good friends."
"What makes you say that?" Harry asked. He knew deep down that it was the truth, but he was surprised that someone else thought so as well, even if it was Sybil Trelawney.
"You can answer that question better than I," Professor Trelawney responded, "But I know that in this instance I have interpreted the signs correctly," Harry raised an eye brow at this, "Divination is a matter of interpretation, sometimes even the best seers misinterpret the signs, accidentally or otherwise."
"What about your death predictions?" Harry asked, surprised at the professor's admission that Divination was imprecise.
"Deliberate," she said. A slight smirk briefly crossed her face. It was an expression that looked somewhat strange on her face, "I do enjoy reading a nice set of inventive and original predictions. It makes life so much more interesting." Harry couldn't help but laugh, at the realisation that her whole teaching style was an act.
"You mean that the whole all-seeing, melodramatic classroom routine is just an act?" he choked in between giggles. She nodded, as another smirk settled itself on her bug-like features. He wasn't sure why he found it so funny, but it thought it was down to the fact everyone took her at face value or possibly the fact that Trelawney didn't take her classes seriously, when so many of her students did, "Why?"
"It's a time honoured tradition." she explained, "And it sorts out those who take Divination seriously from those who don't. Besides, It annoys Minerva."
"But, What about Lavender, Pavarti and the students who take you seriously?" Harry asked, having recovered from his mirth. The chat with Trelawney had cheered him up though and brought him out of his brooding, which most probably the reason for the conversation in the first place.
"Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs," she said, shrugging her shoulders, speaking like a true Slytherin.
"Of course she is," a different, female, voice said, after Harry had commented about his Professor's house allegiance, "Only a Slytherin could put up a façade as expertly as Sybil." The voice was aristocratic, with a slight welsh accent, and generally calm although Harry thought he heard a hint of tiredness.
Harry looked over to see Narcissa Malfoy sit down on the other side of him from Professor Trelawney, "Why aren't you with Draco?" he asked with no hint of bitterness or anger.
"I need to know what happened." she requested, a hint of pleading in her voice.
"He broke," Harry said, his good mood disappearing, "We broke. He was afraid of failure, of his father's reaction. He asked for his father's forgiveness. He was desperate, no worse, if that's possible. He's convinced he's a failure," He forced himself to look into Narcissa's eyes. His voice began to break slightly, "He sounded as though he were dieing, and it's all my fault. I should have let him win…"
"And he would have hated you the more for it." she interrupted sternly, forcing Harry to look away, "He would have seen it as a sign of weakness, and despaired that he could not truly beat someone so weak."
"But…" Harry protested
"He respects you, Harry." The use of his given name forced him to look up, "He believes you a worthy opponent. He would not agree to a truce with an inferior, weaker enemy." The boy remembered that a truce was part of the deal, which led to the duel.
"Me? His equal?" This surprised Harry, but then he'd never really stopped to consider whom Draco Malfoy would regard as his inferiors and his equals, "I'm not even pureblood."
"Neither is Dumbledore, and before you say it you are as powerful as he is. Trust me on that one."
Harry thought for a moment, before deciding to accept Narcissa's point, despite the fact he didn't believe her, "I suppose that's why he hates me so much," he elucidated eventually, "It's because we're equals. He wouldn't waste time hating someone he thinks as his inferior. Nor would he offer an inferior his hand in friendship. That's why he hates me so much, you know." Narcissa did not look surprised, "I rejected him, in favour of Ron, a Weasley, an inferior. I humiliated him and I've been humiliating him ever since, and he hates me for it."
"Lucius is hard on him," Narcissa said, she had not reacted to Harry's monologue, "He expects him to be perfect, and when he isn't he punishes him."
"But that's horrible," Harry exclaimed. He had suspected this to be the truth but hearing it being said out loud did nothing to diminish the shock, "Nobody is perfect, least of all Lucius Malfoy."
"I know," Narcissa whispered in reply.
"I suppose we're quite alike really," Harry rationalised after another pause. The thought of being similar to Malfoy horrified him slightly, "We're both raised on pedestals and expected to be perfect, him by his father, me by everybody, and when we fail they hate us for it and punish us."
"True, you really are surprisingly similar. You could easily have been friends. You probably still could in fact."
"Really?" Harry said, genuinely surprised even though Professor Trelawney had said so just a few moments previously. The thought of being friends with Malfoy both horrified and thrilled him. Deep down though he knew what he had to do, "Would he accept?" he asked.
"With a little push, most probably."
"I'll do it then." he knew that Malfoy would understand him. Not that Ron and Hermione were bad friends, they just didn't have the same problems as he did. They simply didn't understand the responsibility of being that being 'The Boy-Who-Lived' brought him. He also suspected that secretly they were still in love with the idea of being the best friend of 'The Boy-Who-Lived' rather than plain Harry Potter. He would never have that problem with Malfoy; 'The Boy-who-Lived' was his enemy.
"Thank You." he heard Narcissa whisper. He looked up at her in shock as she smiled at him. It was a warm genuine smile.
Thank You to all those who reviewed Chapter Five. The reviews were much appreciated.