19 Years (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 30: The Duel

Friday, October 27, 2017

The day of the duel dawned bright and clear. Harry felt his stomach drop the moment he saw Draco, sitting calmly at the Head table at breakfast, and was plagued by a sinking feeling of dread that got worse as the day progressed. The duel suddenly didn't seem like such a bright idea at all. In fact, he was beginning to think it was the worst idea in the string of bad ideas that made up his life.

He couldn't stomach any breakfast. Instead of eating, he sat and stared at Draco, who didn't seem to be having any such trouble as he polished off his standard cranberry scone and coffee.

He should talk to Draco, call the whole thing off. It was a stupid idea, and while it had brought him more happiness than he'd felt in a very long time, these past few weeks, the fact remained that it was a stupid idea and he was very sure that he was going to regret it.

He should go and tell Draco, and then Neville. He should-

But then Draco was striding out the doors, and Harry had missed his chance. His shoulders slumped as he caught sight of Neville's face, eyes sparkling with anticipation, and realized that he'd not have been able to get out of it anyway.

—

By lunchtime, Harry was a nervous wreck. His hands were twitching, so he hid them in his pockets, busying them fiddling with the scrap of paper that brushed against his fingers. It calmed him, slightly, enough that he thought he might brave the Great Hall.

He spent the meal pushing his peas around, to make it look like he was eating them. He couldn't stomach a single bite. He tried, again, to talk to Draco, but he hurried in late, deep in conversation with Flitwick, then left early. Harry watched him go, feeling bile rise in his throat. He shoved his untouched plate aside with a grimace and stalked off to his classroom. He took more points from students that day than in all other days that year, combined.

—

They'd arranged to hold the duel before dinner. Neville had cancelled the last class of the day for everyone, so they could all watch. He'd drawn so many cheers, the day he'd announced that particular plan, even sonorous hadn't given him the volume to speak over them. Even the teachers had cheered.

—

Harry couldn't decide if time were moving faster or slower than usual. Everything was just a bit off. Colors were sharper, more intense, except when they were faded and bled into one another. Lights were brighter-dimmer-brighter than they ought to be. His reaction times were faster - slower? - Or maybe it was his students, hyperfocused - distracted?

Harry frowned, blinking odd sparkles from the corners of his vision.

Class started. Paused. Resumed. Stopped. Students filed in and out. Harry taught. Or, he thought he did. He moved in a daze from student to student, unseeing.

—

"Professor Potter. Professor Potter!"

"Hmmm?"

"Can we go early?"

"Yeah, we want to get good seats!"

Harry put a hand to his forehead, squinted at them.

"Yeah. Sure. Go on, then."

There was a whirlwind of motion as students grabbed their bags and dashed for the door. Harry reached out, caught the edge of one of the practice dummies, steadying himself.

"Professor...are you all right?"

Harry looked down, at a tiny girl whose name he couldn't recall. Her blue eyes were wide, concerned. He forced a smile, racking his brains for her name. "Yes, um, Mel. I'm fine. Thanks. Go ahead - I'll just... I need to grab something."