𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

To Have

This was said to be the ultimate mental and emotional strain, where they tried to use every edge to get under your skin, into your head; they made you play your mind against your heart to see which would win out. It was said that if you were going to break, you broke in the ring. They would press any button they needed to, toy with you before testing you, just to see how you fared
Harry was suddenly filled with trepidation, and the strange niggling hope that he and Ron were thrown in the ring together.

Wait. He would rather hurt Ron?

Draco came back then, fully padded, which gave Harry an odd idea of how Draco would look if he was slightly more built and a little less on the thin side. He sidled up to Harry’s right, pressing his palm slightly against Harry’s lower back. The gesture was encouraging, supportive, a small sign of trust and acceptance, and Harry knew that Draco was trying to give Harry permission to hurt him if they were paired.

Fear dropped into Harry’s stomach. He couldn’t. He simply would not be able to hurt Draco intentionally like that; he would hesitate, and hold back, and even if he tried to throw a curse it would be completely half-hearted, and with the Dark Arts you really had to mean it to get it to work....

They were calling the first pair. There wasn’t any time to think, Harry didn’t know what to do..

“Draco Malfoy.” The trainer’s voice boomed over the Arena. Draco suddenly seemed terribly small and fragile next to Harry, even with all the padding, even with the fact that his eyes were confident and his shoulders flexed. He would look intimidating to any onlooker, anyone who didn’t know him, really know him, anyone who didn’t know that Draco was never physically violent unless absolutely cornered, unless there were no other choices or resources. Anyone else would think that Draco would hedge every advantage, take every shot he could get, would bring them down in a second unless they got him first.

But Harry knew Draco, and knew that when they called his name next, because they would, because they would know that Harry would never want to hurt him, he knew that he would rather fight Ron.

“Ronald Weasley.”

The shock was numbing, it froze Harry completely, as he realized he was already half-moving toward the Circle. He felt Ron tense to his left, watched Draco’s eyes from a distance as they widened with surprise.

There was an outbreak of intense murmurs from all the students as Ron looked frantically from Draco to Harry, and then back at Draco. The steely grey eyes were still holding that arrogant air that Draco always had when he was unsure, as if by giving the impression of success he could succeed without actually doing anything.

He must have looked defiant, to anyone else. Must have looked like he welcomed the fight, like he wanted it. To anyone else, he must have looked like he was planning his victory lap in his head.

Ron was walking into the ring, and Harry couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than having to fight Draco himself.

The two of them were tense and concentrated, Ron the clear physical dominator between them, and Draco’s eyes were sharp and calculating, looking for weakness-

Someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry turned quickly, eager to get his attention back on the ring as soon as possible.

Ginny Weasley was standing behind him.

“Harry,” she whispered urgently, “I need to talk to you outside.”

Confusion clouded Harry’s eyes; he was shocked, why was Ginny here, what was happening..

“Harry,” she said again, “please.” And guilt tore at him, did she know about Draco, wouldn’t that hurt, what could he possibly say....

When he glanced back towards the ring he saw that Ron and Draco were circling each other, Ron tall and high off the ground, Draco bending lower, crouching like a snake ready to attack...