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Draco is a renowned duelist, famous for beginning at a young age and quickly climbing the ranks, sitting nicely as #1 in the UK, and one of the top European duelists.

The scene opens at the national dueling tournament

It's held in Riverwood, a town that's all but fictional. The town seemingly disappears every four years before popping up again when the national dueling team has openings for a new member.

This time, Draco sits in the bleachers at the very top to spectate the duelists.

During the preliminary rounds, someone displays strong talent, drawing attention from the crowd and gaining some notice from the team members. Draco, perched like a king in the spectator stands, hears murmurs about a rising newcomer and can't resist taking a peek.

When he investigates, asking more discreet questions, he finds out this duelist is Harry Potter. Immediately he recoils-- he hasn't heard about a Harry at all, and suddenly he is toying with duelists that have 15 years of experience underneath their belt.

It's unfair, he thinks.

It's unfair that this nobody shows up with talent that is so clearly raw and untrained, instinct worth cultivating, when Draco worked nearly 6 years just to get enough skill to do what Potter currently is. it's unfair.

A few more rounds pass, the days roll by, and Potter is fighting again. so of course Draco settles in his usual spot, high above everyone, an expression of untouchable arrogance permanently etched into his face.

What makes him clench his fists is that Potter is still doing very well. And it seems that the moment he thinks that he jinxes it, because a sudden misstep leaves Potter vulnerable, and it seemed like the end of his run in the tournament.

But maybe it was simply impulsiveness, competitiveness, or curiosity. or a mix of all three. He knows Potter's opponent is skilled and experienced, and could be a valuable asset to the national team, but Harry has been fighting well, and it was just a stumble that brought him down.

With slight hesitation, he discreetly signals to his attendant. He instructs him to pass a note to the tournament officials, invoking a rule that allowed one lifeline per participant.

With renewed determination, Potter manages to bounce back and secures a victory that evening. As the night draws to a close, Draco is approached by the tournament organizers, who inform him Potter wanted to meet his "mysterious benefactor." Eager to find out who had saved him, Potter had insisted on meeting him.

The next day, behind the scenes, Potter is introduced to Draco, who is almost annoyed at being discovered. Potter's embarrassing excitement and admiration for Draco doesn't falter, even when he tries his hardest to appear aloof and dismissive.

"I've known you since I was a kid," Potter says, biting his lip. "You're one of my biggest inspirations. I signed up for this for a chance to see you. Wow."

Draco hums nonchalantly.

"I can't believe you were watching me," Potter continues. “This feels surreal… I’m a huge fan. I think I’ve seen almost all your recent matches, so I could be like you. I know how this sounds, but–”

“It sounds childish.”

“What?” Potter smiles blankly at him and it makes Draco even angrier for some reason.

“I’ve seen a lot of people like you. Chasing a childish dream because they think it’s just some good fun. They don’t understand the effort. They quit in two weeks. How long will you make it?”

"I don't understand," Potter says, shaking his head.

"Of course you don't," Draco scoffs. "Don’t delude yourself more. Give up now."

"I thought you gave me a second chance," Potter says slowly. "That you wanted to see me win."

"A mistake," Draco says carelessly, waving his hand. He leaves, not giving Potter a chance to respond.

Potter and Draco cross paths more frequently as the tournament progresses. Their interactions range from snide remarks to begrudging acknowledgments of each other's skills, and reporters fall on this like bloodhounds.

More people begin to pick up on this animosity, reporters rushing to write about the glares and snarky comments. News about the tournament is suddenly shadowed by their supposed rivalry, which Draco resents. He'd have to CARE about Potter in the first place to be rivals.

Eventually, to Draco's surprise, Potter makes it up to the final rounds and now it's time for them to fight against each other. He's sure Potter is fueled completely out of spite, because no other loser would be so insistent on winning this much just to fight Draco.

On one side is Draco, seasoned duelist, long lineage of talent behind him. On the other, Potter, the rising star who had captured the hearts of many with his unparalleled skill and charisma.

The stadium is going crazy. Draco, to be honest, isn't sure how this match will end.

The duel begins, and Draco's experience and technique are on full display. He wields his wand with precision, casting spells with grace and elegance. Every move is calculated, every strike intentional.

But Potter is no slouch either. He meets Draco's attacks with a fluidity that seemed almost instinctive, countering with creative and innovative spells. Sparks fly as they exchange blows.

As the duel intensifies, their strategies became more daring and complex. They seem to be almost dancing, their wands weaving patterns and power in the air. The stadium is shaking, swept up in the spectacle of the two dueling titans.

In a daring move, Potter unleashes a spell that catches Draco off guard, making him pause for a moment. It's enough of an opening for Potter to land a powerful hit, sending Draco staggering backward. The crowd erupts in cheers for the underdog's feat, and Draco's heart sinks.

But Draco isn't about to go down without a fight. Summoning every ounce of skill and experience, he rallies back, matching Potter spell for spell. The duel intensifies, reaching a crescendo of magical energy that seems to reverberate through the stadium.

Draco can't breathe.

There's dust and the overwhelming presence of residue magic surrounding him, and it's hard for him to take in deep breaths. He's stuck making short, panicky gasps, and suddenly it's over. His knees stop working and he falls to his knees right as Potter casts a spell.

The spell grazes his shoulder, barely enough to affect him, but he raises his wand in acquiescence. He isn't winning this battle, he knows this. It's over.

as the dust settles and the stadium begins to clear, Draco approaches Potter, offering a hand. "Well fought," Draco says, grudgingly respectful.

Potter accepts the handshake, a genuine smile breaking through. "You too," he replies.

Draco flees (read: strategically runs away. Malfoys aren't scared of anything, let alone newbies with curly hair and green eyes) as soon as the match is done. He doesn't want to see the rest of the team congratulate Potter or inform him about his new position. Whatever.

Their rivalry becomes well-known in the dueling world, a clash of personalities and ideologies that stirs heated debates among fans. Half of the stuff Draco hears sounds like it's straight out of a classic drama, which is absurd. Their first duel is immortalized.

According to the masses, Harry had admired Draco from afar, unaware of the dark shadow that lurks behind his elegant facade. Harry's excitement turned to nervousness as they step into the arena, knowing that his childhood idol despises him.

Obviously, this is bullshit.

His lack of PR training while responding to reporters clearly isn't helpful either. Everywhere Draco goes, he's asked what he thinks of Potter saying "his eyes were full of life while fighting" and that Potter "held him in high regard." He was clearly saying those sarcastically.

A year later, much to his dismay, he learns their respective managers have orchestrated a partnership for a special exhibition match. The public relations stunt is designed to capitalize on their rivalry, bringing in massive crowds and media attention.

Draco and Harry protest the forced alliance, but their managers insist it's for the best.

With clenched jaws and gritted teeth, the day of the match arrives and they begin. To their surprise, they find themselves in perfect sync, even without any past training together.

Draco's meticulous strategy combines seamlessly with Harry's instinctive and innovative approach. Their moves complement each other flawlessly as if they've been together for years.

As the match progresses, they exchange glances of disbelief and surprise.

The crowd erupts in cheers, unaware of their complex emotions.

Their opponents, two people Draco doesn't care enough to remember the names of, call for a break. He doesn't need one, of course, but he acquiesces and he and Potter retreat to their designated corridor.

Before they get back to the match, Harry musters the courage to approach Draco, stopping him. "Wait, Draco," he says, catching his attention.

"I need to know why you hate me so much."

Draco's eyes narrow, his jaw tensing as he sizes up Harry.

"You wouldn't understand," he replies dismissively, trying to brush it off.

But Harry isn't about to back down. "Try me," he insists, his voice steady.

Draco lets out a heavy sigh, seemingly torn between venting his frustrations and maintaining his facade of aloofness. "Fine."

"You want to know why? Because you've had it so easy."

Harry's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Easy? You don't know anything about my life."

"Exactly!" Draco snaps, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

"I've worked my entire life to get to where I am. I've trained day and night, pushed myself to the limits, fought tooth and nail to prove my worth. But you? You waltz in here with your natural talent and charm, and suddenly you're on par with me in just a year. It's infuriating."

"Draco, I mean... I never meant to sabotage your work or whatever. I never thought I'd reach your level so quickly either," he admits.

"Well, you did!" Draco retorts, crossing his arms defensively. "It's not fair. I've always been expected to excel at dueling, to uphold the family name. There's no room for mistakes or failure. And then you come along, and everyone just adores you. It's like the dueling world has forgotten about me."

"I looked up to you, you know," Harry says quietly. "I used to watch your matches almost religiously. I idolized you, wanted to be like you. I never thought we'd end up as rivals."

"You're saying that like it's supposed to make everything better."

"It doesn't," Harry admits, "but maybe if you knew how much you meant to me before all of this, you'd understand that my rise in dueling wasn't about trying to outshine you. I wanted to try dueling, just for a chance at fighting alongside you or seeing you in person."

Draco's eyes meet Harry's.

"No one ever really cared about me as a person," he admits. "They only cared about the Malfoy name, the prestige and power. And then you come along, and everyone adores you, not for your lineage or your name, but for your own merits."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like," Harry says. "You're an incredible duelist, and I respect that. Maybe we can just coexist without you getting all... you know?"

Draco looks away for a moment, rolling his eyes. "Maybe," he finally replies.

As they head back to the arena, a new understanding hangs in the air, bridging the gap between them, if only slightly. The weight of their rivalry doesn't disappear entirely, but it feels different now, tinged with a sense of mutual acknowledgment and appreciation.

#drarry #short ficlet #draco malfoy #harry potter #hpdm #duelists drarry stuck in my head #posted this on twitter

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