Title: Dueling Practice
Word Count: 434
Summary: Harry James Potter could never refuse a dare.
Laughter surrounded him, throaty and full. “Come on, Potter. Hex me.” The voice also came from every direction, out of the mouth of every doppelganger that stood around him in a ring. Harry cautiously turned in a circle, wand held in a defensive position, eyes straining to find a flaw in her Doppelganger Curse.
The details of Pansy’s face were clear and exact on every single one, from the upsweep of dark hair to the dark beauty mark accenting the curve of her wicked, taunting grin. The tight-fitting but unrestricting robes molded to the curves of her body deliciously, perfect for the dueling practice they had weekly in the new facility in Hogsmeade. Harry struggled to resist the admittedly tempting distraction.
“What? Can’t you find me?” The grin flashed as her voice mocked, echoing faintly in the bespelled room. The collective shes flicked her wands and every doppelganger wore a pair of dark gloves. Evilly, she pushed her wand up through her hairdo and lazily started stripping the right-hand glove using her teeth. She tossed it on the floor, where every single one melted into inky smoke. The gauntlet was thrown, the glove symbolically slapping his face. “Come find me.” Find me, find me. It was a deliberate dare to get him to react—oh, she knew him too well. Harry James Potter could never refuse a dare.
He slinked around, as smooth and graceful as a cat as he stalked. He assessed mentally, striving to take in every excruciating detail. There was no way she could have duplicated everything exactly. He went wider, closer to the doppelgangers and ultimately the real Pansy, with every circuit. His eyes tracked her as the shes retrieved her wands and dark hair fell in a tumble down her back.
It was the smallest vanity that gave her away—a tiny chip in her nail polish that she likely hadn’t even noticed yet. His face remained smooth, not letting on even as she twirled her wand with calculated nonchalance.
A feint, a diving roll, and he wrapped his arms around her, tackling her to the ground. Turning his body as they went down, Harry took the impact and her body fell onto his. During all their sparring sessions, she was always surprised when he resorted to the physical instead of magical.
“Found you,” he murmured huskily, out of breath from the fall to the floor rather than the sparring—and, he admitted to himself, from falling in love with her all over again, yet again.
“Brava, love,” she replied and gave him his reward: a thorough, loving kiss.
A/N: Written for pphp_ldws, and it actually won the round! I am so squeeful.