𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒

XVI

Act XVI.

Contraria contrariis curantur.

Opposites are cured by their opposites.

Locking his gaze onto brilliantly dazed emeralds, Draco raised an eyebrow and asked, “Want to spar with me?”

“What? Me? Spar with you?” Harry asked incredulously as he struggled not to look like Christmas had come early. He’s actually responding to me! Finally, in a non-threatening way! Although- He paused as he wrinkled his nose and eyed the blonde’s sharp blade that was glinting menacingly under the sun. Perhaps not so non-threatening after all. But still! This is progress! He thought, glad to resume his earlier happy thoughts. “But I don’t have a sword and I really don’t know how to fight with one.” Harry frowned sadly as his laughable skills occurred to him and his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

Unconcerned, Draco merely snorted. “Yes, you do. Unless, of course, there’s another Boy Who Lived that wielded Gryffindor’s sword like a blundering buffoon in our Second Year. You can use that one. I’m sure if you ask Dumbledore nicely, he’ll lend it to you. And as for your distinct lack of sword skills, did you really think I’d risk my neck and just spar with you willy nilly? Of course, I’d teach you first! At the very least, you could learn how to hold it properly!” Draco said sharply.

“Really? You’d teach me?” Harry looked up with a wide smile, ecstatic at the thought.

“Yes! Didn’t I just say that?” Draco snapped in irritation as he tried not to fidget under the intensity of Potter’s gaze. Blushing lightly, Draco added brusquely, “And it’s purely out of self preservation! I’d be mad if I just let you have at me with a sword! With your luck and mine, you’d probably win the match due to sheer dumb luck and I’d end up getting skewered in half!”

Harry laughed at the notion, genuinely amused as he shrugged easily. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He beamed.

Draco raised an eyebrow as Potter merely laughed, actually laughed, and didn’t go mental on him for his sarcastic wit like he usually did.

He decided that perhaps, engaging Potter in friendly conversation was not going to be the colossal mistake he’d originally thought it would be. The silly twit might even make for a decent companion. And if they could both manage to hold off the urge to hex each other senseless, he might not have to die of boredom after all. Perhaps they could even try to be friends, just like the boy had been endlessly insisting. He wrinkled his nose at that as he gave Potter a once-over. Ugh. Perhaps, if he had better clothes. Then he could actually stand beside him and not projectile vomit like he was close to doing now. A tangerine shirt with lavender trousers? Honestly, what was the boy thinking? He shuddered in disgust.

“So? Shouldn’t you be running off to Dumbledore for your sword? Unless, of course, you’d rather fend off my blade with your mind numbing conversational skills and horrifying fashion sense? Although I must say that that hideous clash of orange and purple you’ve got going on there would be enough to ward off even inanimate objects from coming within ten feet of you so that might actually work.” Draco smirked mischievously.

Harry merely snorted, gave the boy a brilliant grin and took off running.

Damn and blast! He doesn’t even respond to my insults anymore! Draco thought in irritation as he curled his fingers around the hilt of his own sword. And who the hell does he think he is, laughing at my jibes and smiling like a loon? I mean, I know we’re no longer the scheming diehard, bitter archrivals we were before, but really! What self respecting Gryffindor would just turn around and do that? It’s not like we’re going to be the bestest of all friends and go skipping off into the sunset!