Bleville AI Oneshots

Dueling Club Rivalry

The Great Hall had been transformed into a dueling arena. The long tables had been pushed to the sides, leaving the center of the room open for the 8th-year students. Their Dueling Club had been reinstated after the war, but it felt more like an opportunity for the staff to keep an eye on them than anything else. Everyone was eager to prove themselves, no matter which side they'd fought on during the war.

Neville Longbottom stood in the middle of the arena, heart pounding as he caught his breath. His last duel had been a tough one-Anthony Goldstein had put up a good fight-but Neville had come out on top. His confidence had grown since the war, and dueling felt like second nature now. He didn't shy away from it the way he used to.

Across the room, Blaise Zabini was lounging against a pillar, his dark eyes following the duels with lazy interest. Blaise had an air of indifference about him, as though nothing could rattle him. He was the opposite of Neville in almost every way-cool, controlled, and calculated.

Of course, their rivalry had been inevitable.

"Longbottom!" came the call from Professor Flitwick. "You're up again."

Neville stepped forward, and when he saw who was standing opposite him, his heart did a strange, uncomfortable twist.

Blaise.

The room seemed to quiet just a bit as the two of them stepped into the dueling circle. Neville tried to calm his nerves, reminding himself that this was just another duel. But something about the way Blaise was looking at him-sharp, focused, like he was studying every movement Neville made-made his skin prickle.

Blaise's wand was already out, held with that same casual grace he always had, as if he wasn't even really trying. But Neville knew better. Blaise was smart-dangerously smart-and he was about to find out just how much.

"You ready, Longbottom?" Blaise drawled, raising an eyebrow as a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Neville straightened his spine, raising his wand. "Always."

Professor Flitwick's whistle blew, and the duel began.

Blaise Zabini was fast. His spells flew at Neville in quick succession-jabs of light that crackled through the air. Neville deflected most of them, but Blaise was relentless, pressing forward with precision that made it clear he was holding nothing back.

Neville countered with his own set of spells, sending vines shooting out from his wand to entangle Blaise's feet. Blaise smirked, flicking his wand and severing the vines with ease. Their duel became a dance-Blaise dodging, Neville blocking, their movements fluid as the room watched in rapt attention.

But there was something more in the way Blaise was dueling, something Neville couldn't quite place. Blaise's eyes were locked on his, and there was a charge in the air that wasn't just magical. Every time Blaise moved, it was like he was pushing Neville, daring him to go harder, to try more.

And Neville responded.

With each spell, each counter, Neville felt himself getting more and more drawn into the fight. He wasn't just dueling Blaise-he was trying to prove something. He didn't even know what, but it was there, humming in the space between them.

Suddenly, Blaise shot a spell Neville wasn't expecting-a Stinging Hex, aimed low. Neville tried to dodge, but it caught him in the leg, and he stumbled back, wincing in pain.

The room gasped, and for a moment, Neville expected Blaise to follow through and end it. But Blaise didn't move. He just stood there, wand lowered slightly, watching Neville recover.

"You all right, Longbottom?" Blaise asked, his voice softer now, though the smirk was still on his lips.

Neville straightened, the sting in his leg fading. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, not from embarrassment but from frustration. Blaise was playing with him, and for some reason, that infuriated him.