AN: Sorry, the wrong title was published before for Chapter 53!
At lunch, Blake was apprehensive. He monitored his food closely, watching out for Malfoy or his goons or literally any other Slytherin to come close - and he was right. A first year Slytherin came over to him, acting shy, and told him one of his friends said they knew him from somewhere. Blake pretended to be interested, and when the boy pointed to his friend and Blake looked over, he tried to slip something into his drink.
"What's this?" Zabini said, sounding more interested than he'd ever been before. The first-year froze as Zabini gripped his wrist tightly. The kid was still holding the half-full potion bottle. Malfoy paled.
"Seems like someone's trying to interfere with the duel," Tracey said loud enough so that people in other houses could hear. "Spiking Blake's food with a potion? Who would do something like that?"
Murmurs stared, and Blake laughed as he looked at the expression on Malfoy's face. He turned back to the first-year.
"Don't worry, mate. If Malfoy tries anything, come to me."
The first-year looked at him shocked for a moment, before turning away in disgust.
"No way! You're - you're a mudblood!" he declared, before turning away back to his friends. Blake sighed. Stupid little kid.
/
That evening, Blake and Malfoy stood on a table in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, surrounded by a crowd that packed the classroom to the brim. Blake noticed that Professor Snape and Flitwick were in attendance. Makes sense. Snape's the Head of our House, and Flitwick used to be a duelling champion.
"My dearest students!" Lockhart said loudly, and the loud room immediately silenced. Blake looked around again. Greengrass, Zabini and Tracey hadn't arrived yet, but Connor, the Golden Trio and some of their friends had fought their way to the front. Connor gave Blake a toothy grin and thumbs up, and for a second, Blake noticed Malfoy's snarl falter for just a fraction of a second.
"Harry," Blake said.
"Yeah?"
"Remember that promise you made me last year?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Do me a favour, and take Connor out of here please. I don't want him to see this."
Harry frowned for a moment, before realising the implications of what Blake had just said.
"Oh - okay," he said, slightly surprised, and despite Connor's protest, the Boy-Who-Lived escorted him outside.
"Are we ready to begin?" Lockhart goaded the crowd, who roared in approval.
"Duellists, are we ready to begin?"
"I - I'm ready," Malfoy said, mustering up as much courage as he could. Goyle stood behind him, looking as clueless as always.
"Sorry, Professor, d'you mind waiting for-"
"We're here," a girl's voice that Blake immediately recognised announced. The hustling, student crowd parted before Greengrass, Zabini and Tracey, as they marched their way up to the front. As Zabini climbed onto the table, Greengrass maintained her composed facade, but Blake knew better. She definitely thinks she's so cool for that. I'm gonna outdo her.
Blake looked around once more, hoping to see Charlotte - for a second, he thought he did, but he lost her in the crowd, finding himself staring at a tabby cat instead.
He shook himself out of his stupor.
I hope you're watching Charlotte. Malfoy's going to suffer for snitching - and what he said to you earlier.
"I'm ready, Professor."
"Very well! In that case - begin!"
Malfoy immediately shouted, "Protego!", casting a protection spell in front of him. Blake merely smirked.
"Come on, Draco. A pureblood scared of a muggleborn? What would Daddy have to say?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Malfoy snarled, and quickly threw 2 Leg Lock curses at Blake, which he easily dodged, followed by an Expelliarmus. Blake frowned internally as he cancelled out the spell. He's improved. Training?
Malfoy grinned, seeming to gain confidence at Blake's docile start to the fight, and he threw spell after spell at him. What an idiot, Blake thought, erecting a shield which blocked all of Malfoy's spells as Blake looked at his watch and yawned as the crowd laughed. Blake turned to his audience.
"Should I try just a little bit?" he shouted.
The crowd roared in agreement, and Blake stepped away from the shield.
"Expelliarmus!"
Malfoy quickly put up a shield, and Blake could see the beginnings of a smirk begin to form on his face. Arrogant as always, Malfoy.
"Stupefy!" he yelled, and the jet of red light broke through the shield easily. Malfoy looked stunned.
"Locomotor Mortis!"
"I taught you how to do it last time but you still haven't learnt, Draco," Blake tutted in mock disappointment.
Malfoy gritted his teeth as he struggled to get up, his eyes deep with hatred. The boy pointed his wand at Blake.
"Bombarda!" Malfoy screamed. Blake's eyes widened. That's third-year. So Daddy has been teaching you, Malfoy. I'm almost impressed, Blake thought mockingly.
"Finite Incantatem," Blake whispered as quietly as he could under his breath. The Bombardment Spell was cancelled in mid year, leaving those in the crowd to think that Malfoy couldn't even use it properly.
"Diffindo!" Blake uttered, and true to his aim, a cut appeared right on Malfoy's wand hand, causing the boy to howl in pain and drop his wand. Blake could see the alarm in Lockhart's eyes, but aside from cheerily saying, "Careful, boys!", he did nothing.
Realising his mistake, Malfoy looked up at Blake, and the crowd went silent, waiting for the final blow. He's not going to surrender, is he? Good.
"Pick up your wand, Malfoy." Blake's voice was no longer mocking or venomous or sarcastic. He was completely serious.
The pureblood boy looked like he wanted to protest, but he picked up his wand nonetheless.
"Tarantallegra!" Blake whispered, and Malfoy was too slow to put up a shield or dodge in time. He began dancing uncontrollably, unable to stop himself, as the crowd roared with laughter.
"Rictusempra! Densaugeo! Slugulus Eructo!"
Malfoy was now a dancing, rabbit toothed, slug vomiting, laughing young man, and the crowd were beside themselves with laughter. Blake wasn't laughing though. Malfoy was thoroughly embarrassed, yes, but he hadn't suffered yet.
I can't do anything too dark with Lockhart around, Blake thought. But oh well. I suppose I can try this.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Malfoy began to levitate, and the crowd's laughter grew to a crescendo - that was, until Blake flicked his wand all the way up, and Malfoy crashed into the ceiling. Laughter turned into complete silence, as Snape and Flitwick looked on in a mixture of surprise and horror, and Lockhart stammered, "N- Now, Renshaw, I'm sure you didn't mean that, but please-"
"Sorry, Professor," Blake said. "I'll stop."
Blake released the spell, and Malfoy dropped all the way back down with a thud.
"I think that's enough, Renshaw," Snape intervened, his wand out. Blake heard steel and anger in his voice, but he didn't care.
"Malfoy's still conscious, Professor," Blake countered. "He hasn't surrendered yet - have you, Malfoy?"
"Mr Renshaw, I really do think that's enough!" Flitwick exclaimed.
Malfoy merely groaned, unable to speak, still vomiting slugs.
"Be that as it may, neither you nor Malfoy supersede a professor's authority, Renshaw. Put your wand away - now."
The muggleborn Slytherin held eye contact with Professor Snape for a few moments.
"Yes, sir."
Blake put his wand back in his pocket, and Snape rushed over to Malfoy and started healing spells.
I hope they don't work, Blake thought bitterly.
He turned to Lockhart.
"Who won, Professor?"
"Huh?" The normally composed professor stuttered, before clearing his throat and announcing in a cheery voice, "Renshaw is the winner!"
Polite but unsure claps echoed around the room, but right now, Blake didn't care about any of that. He knew how the students of Hogwarts were. Sooner or later, Malfoy would do or say something reprehensible again, and they'd hate Malfoy even more, and praise himself even more.
He exited the room wordlessly, followed closely by Zabini, Greengrass and Tracey. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Connor - the stubborn little sh*t definitely snuck his way back in somehow. Blake sighed. Explaining that to him is going to be a long, long story.
Already, the whispers had started. 'Slytherin… dark magic… cruel…'
But there was only one thing that Blake was thinking right now.
I only cut him once.
He didn't bleed enough.
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