RP: Duel

[rar_draco]

Date: Wednesday, November 17, 1998
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Location: Malfoy Manor
Status: Private
Summary: This was going to be an interesting evening.
Completion: Incomplete

Draco was waiting quietly for Potter, leaning against the wall between two fireplaces in the Ministry Atrium, his eyes moving this way and that as he watched for his

Comments

[rar_harry]

Harry didn't waste any time once his shift ended, going into the breakroom to fetch his bag before stepping out to the lifts that would take him to the Atrium to meet Malfoy. He had mixed feelings about today. On the one hand, there wasn't really any denying that he'd missed dueling with Malfoy, and it would be a welcome distraction from some of the things on his mind. On the other, he wasn't sure about doing it at Malfoy Manor. It was Malfoy's turf, despite what he'd said about trying to change, and Harry had never associated Malfoy Manor with anything good, especially after this last year.

But he wasn't about to back down. And this way, he'd be on edge, be on his guard.

When he stepped off the lift and looked across the Atrium, he spotted Malfoy standing by the fireplaces and headed over. He offered a nod. "Malfoy."

[rar_draco]

"Potter," he answered, in a similar tone of greeting, before peeling off away from the wall. "You know where the gates are, I assume," he purred, softly. "I'll meet you there." He waited, to make sure that Potter could visualise his Destination, then Disapparated.

It was brisk and dark outside, and he pulled his robes closer around himself, recovering from the shock of Apparating straight out into wintery cold. Still...they'd warm up quickly, he was sure of it. He summoned the brooms and waited for Harry, handing one over to him when he appeared.

[rar_harry]

"Think I remember, yeah," he said, his tone dry. He wasn't likely to forget it. Malfoy apparated away almost immediately, and Harry focused and followed him, arriving at the gates he remembered as the wind snapped around them. He disliked fighting in robes, but he'd deal with it.

Malfoy handed him a broom, and Harry lifted a brow. "What; a race first?"

[rar_draco]

"The grounds are extensive," he said, mounting up and gripping the broom tightly so that his fingers couldn't go numb and cold around the handle. "We're going to head to a safe spot - it'll be plenty out of the way, and we can do whatever we like there. But if you want to call it a race, then fine - though I doubt these things go as fast as you're used to on your Firebolt."

He raised an eyebrow, then leant forward, taking off away from Potter along the line of the fence, but keeping low to the ground. They were heading for the steep edge of the hill that lead down fast the chalk white horse - beyond that was the valley, and the ribbon of wood at the bottom in which they would spar.