Draco blocked it easily, his spell twirling itself around Harry's and choking the life out of it.
"Show off," accused Harry.
"Parselmouth," said Draco back.
Aran didn't hear that, though. Or Harry's spell. Unless he was pretending not to.
So Harry and Draco kept on duelling.
It only took a couple of minutes for Aran to finish the conversation he was having, and notice what Harry was doing.
"Potter!" His voice sounded nothing short of scandalised.
This is really getting old, Harry thought.
"Yes, Professor?" he asked, looking up as if nothing in the world could be wrong.
"Stop that filthy language at once!"
Somehow, baiting Aran had lost its charm. Harry just wanted to be left alone. "No," he said shortly, resuming a duelling stance. "I need to practice, just like everyone else."
"You promised me that you'd practice out of class!"
Oh, that was low, throwing their agreement in his face. "Circumstances have changed," said Harry, remembering Draco saying the same thing. "Deal with it."
Aran's red face looked like it was throbbing. Harry was surprised there wasn't steam pouring out the man's ears.
"Get out," he growled in a low, furious voice. "Get out right now, and don't you dare come back!"
"We've been through this," yelled Harry, his patience snapping. "What am I supposed to do the next time Voldemort tries to kill me, eh? Well, you can just forget it. I'm not leaving and you can't make me! I'm entitled to an education, the same as everyone else here! And for me, that means Parseltongue, so deal with it, like I said!"
Aran whipped his wand out and levelled it at Harry. "You'll leave when I say or you'll suffer the consequences of defiance, young man!"
"Oh yeah, sure I will." Harry took a step toward Aran and laughed. "I don't believe you actually have a death wish, Professor. Do you think Severus won't kill you? It's not like I'm doing anything wrong with the Parseltongue! I just want to do your stupid assignment!"
"Detention," hissed Aran, lowering his wand.
"Yeah. I heard you earlier." Harry turned back to Draco and ignored Aran completely as he resumed their duel, Parseltongue and all.
But the best was yet to come. When class was over, Harry and Draco grinned at each other and packed up their things to go.
"You'll be writing lines today," Aran announced in a frosty voice. "Sit at separate tables and get your parchment back out."
"Sorry, I have places to go, people to see," Harry said, zipping up his book bag.
"As do I," drawled Draco in his haughtiest tone. "However, if you truly wish our presence you can arrange it with Severus. I know he manages my social calendar. Yours as well, Harry?"
"Yeah, mine too." All of a sudden, Harry felt better than he had in ages. It was like he'd been carrying the whole world around and now, all that was just gone. He slung his bag over his shoulder and tucked his wand away in his cloak pocket. "So, that's that then, Professor. See you Wednesday."
They left Aran sputtering with incoherence, their heads held high.
All their poise vanished as soon as they made it to the hallway. Harry collapsed against a wall and howled with laughter. Draco was a bit more restrained, but not much.
Ron joined in while Hermione tapped an impatient foot.
"Did you see the look on his face?" crowed Ron, slapping Harry on the back. "That was brilliant, mate! Absolutely brilliant!"
"Draco's idea," said Harry, gasping for breath.
Ron stopped laughing. "Hey!"
"Actually, Harry said it was your idea first that he ought to stand up to Aran," admitted Draco, nodding. "There, that's one more thing we can agree on."
"What he ought to do," said Hermione, "is tell his father about this."
"I agree with that too," answered Draco, smiling a little. "But he won't, so... All right then, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow. I have to get to Quidditch practice."
"Now?" Harry laughed. "What is that, some strange Slytherin training technique? You practice right through dinner because you play better when you're hungry?"
Draco smirked. "Oh, dear. Your Head of House hasn't ever arranged for the elves to cater something nice out on the pitch, I see."
"Are you serious?"
"Mmm. We get more practice time in, that way. Not to mention, better food." Draco turned to Ron and Hermione. "You two watch out for Harry. No more snogging when you're on duty."
Whirling on a heel, his robes flaring in a fair imitation of Severus', Draco turned and left.
Harry nibbled his lip as he watched him go. "I hope Severus is going to be out there to keep an eye on things. But probably Slytherin won't want to give him broken bones or anything, not before the match. Um, I guess I have to tell you something. I'm going to sit in the Slytherin stands on Saturday. With my dad. To watch Draco, you know. And... er..." He winced, just a bit. "Cheer for Slytherin."
Hermione and Ron just looked at each other like they'd seen that one coming long before Harry had.
Then together, the three of them headed for the Great Hall.
------------------------------------------------------
The morning of the last Quidditch game dawned muggy and grey. The rising sun merely lightened the sky to a featureless whiteness that seemed to bleach all other colour into boredom.
"I'd bring along some sweets if I were you," said Harry, gazing out the window of his dormitory. "I have a feeling this'll be a long, long game."
"You know something I don't?" Ron asked, his voice was a bit muffled as he was half-way beneath his bed groping about for his missing trainer.
Harry smiled. "No, I just have a feeling. It's cloudy out, no sunshine glinting off the snitch." He turned away from the window. "You mind if we head down to the pitch a little early? I wanted to, uh, talk to Draco about something."
"Ow! Blasted, crummy bed," Ron grumbled. Standing, he rubbed his head with one hand while the other clutched his errant shoe. He did not look happy, but Harry couldn't tell whether it was from bumping his head or the request to see Draco.
"Harry, the Slytherins'll be having their team meeting by the time we get down there. Can't you talk to sodding Draco after the game?" His frown turned into a glare. "Unless you're planning on coaching him on brilliant Seeker moves."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, Ron, and I'm bringing them our playbook, too. Look, if you won't walk me then Hermione will. I'm pretty sure you don't want her going down to the Slytherin changing rooms."
"Oh, fine," Ron said. He tried shoving on his shoe without untying it, but gave up and cast denudare to get rid of the knots in his laces. "You don't have to be such a prat about it."
Harry sighed. "I'm just nervous about how Draco's doing with the Slytherins. He's convinced they won't try anything until after the game, but Ö" Harry shrugged.
Ron was correct about the timing of the Slytherin's team meeting. Interestingly the door to the locker room admitted Harry but Ron was blocked by an invisible force.
Must be spelled to only admit Slytherins, Harry mused.
"Out!" Erik Vanvelzeer shouted. "No Gryffindor spies!"
"Yeah! Team members only!" called Zabini.
The whole of the Slytherin Quidditch team stood glaring at Harry. Draco, he noted, looked mildly horrified at the intrusion, as well. Harry suspected he'd be getting a lecture on social cunning later.
"Obviously I'm allowed or the door charm would've kept me out. Besides, Bulstrode's here and she's not on the team this year."
"She's Ö special," Vanvelzeer defended.
Harry thought that was certainly interesting. " Ron's not staying," he said to mollify them. "I just wanted to have a word with my brother and wish my house team good luck." He gave Ron what he hoped was a meaningful look.