Harry Potter, like most of the old DA, still carried his Galleon on him, and so it was Saturday Morning when it warmed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that it read "Quiddich Pitch, under the bleachers, noon." Harry wanted to roll his eyes. Like having half a hundred students walking out to the Quiddich Pitch wasn't going to raise questions? Thinking quickly, Harry shucked on his Quiddich gear, and bounced down the stairs. Ron and Hermione were waiting down there, huddled together as if they wanted everyone to know about the signal.
"Who wants to see me on a broom this morning?" Harry Potter asked, his tenor voice booming through the Common Room. "I bet I can fly three hoops if Gin'll toss them!"
Hermione hissed something to Ron, and they both stood up, Ron said, truculently, "I bet you can't."
Hermione said snottily, "I bet it depends on how Gin'll toss 'em."
"Of course I'll help," Ginny Weasley said, "It's a bet!" By this point, their "we are speaking loud enough to wake the dead" voices had woken most of the older students (and the younger students were watching wide-eyed.)
"Third years and older please." Harry said sternly, "If I lose, I don't want to have to explain to our Head of House why I accidentally taught second years unconscionable swears."
The room rumbled at this, and Ron said loudly, "Breakfast first! I'm hungry."
Everyone laughed, as they all knew Ron, and it was ridiculous to have thought he'd do anything without breakfast.
Downstairs, in the Great Hall, Harry sat like a stone, laughing at everyone's antics, and generally having a high time. He was trying very, very hard to not look suspicious and he figured that being loud and boisterous would do the trick.
Across the Hall from him, Draco Malfoy apparently had had a different thought. Harry'd caught increasingly pointed glances from Malfoy through lunch (along with that jackal like laughter from Pansy). About midway through the meal, Draco Malfoy stood, and swaggered arrogantly over to Potter (How anyone with even remote association with Malfoy could think Potter was arrogant! Harry thought, before pulling his mind back on track).
The table had fallen silent. In fact, all the tables had fallen silent, except the high table, where Trelawney was talking to a frozen faced Minerva McGonagall. Even Snape and Dumbledore had fallen silent, quietly looking over at the boy in black and green.
"I challenge you to a duel on the Quiddich Pitch." Draco Malfoy said, grandly but succinctly.
"I can choose the terms?" Harry Potter asked, thankful that Hermione had, midway through second year, actually gotten him to learn the terms of a formal duel.
"You may." Draco Malfoy said, his eyes stony serious in that impassive face he'd mastered.
"Brooms only, no spells. Gin'll toss the rings, I promised she could already. Whomever gets the most, wins."
Draco Malfoy nodded, where Harry had expected him to object. "Very well, and the time?"
"After breakfast. That should give you enough time to change, if you hurry." Harry Potter said kindly, looking down at his plate then, and watching Draco's midriff move off without actually eating a bite.
Gin gave a low whistle, and said, "The whole place heard that..."
Hermione muttered quickly, "I hope the teachers don't come." Harry found himself wondering if that would be better or worse.
Slowly, Harry said, "I hope they do. They're likely to scatter everyone once the 'duel' is over."
Ron nodded, and said, "Yeah, it'll be easier to slip off if everyone's running for the hills."
Harry looked at one of the third years, and said, "Make sure the young lions show up to cheer." He smiled, but felt the smile fall from his face as the browneyed boy nearly saluted Harry.
[a/n: Really? Under the bleachers? Yes, really. Zach's not the best leader ever.
Is Malfoy actually going to be joining the Defense club?
Leave a review by the door.]