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"Oh nononono you don't! Don't you dare! Do you now how fucking emotional and shit my partner is!? He'll drop dead in a week if you release that curse!" Draco Malfoy shouted at the top of his lungs during the international pair dueling championship amidst the area.
His partner—Harry Potter—looked at him horrified and somewhat offended as he pointed his wand at their opponent.
"Malfoy—what the fuck," he hissed as his magic flared. Ferret face better take that back before he hexes him instead. Competition be damned.
Their competitors were from a enclove from Italy. Both girls had joined earlier and made a spell that was now glowing underneath all of them.
Harry didn't know what it was but based on Draco's reaction, he knew it. And apparently he was dead if it hit him.
"Shut up Potter. That's Amore Prohibitio. Kinda like the infamous Hanahaki curse from Japan. But instead of flowers, your body turns into stone."
Harry's face scrunched up because just what use was that in the dueling arena. He yelped when he felt Malfoy sending him a mild hex.
"You idiot," Draco grumbled. "They don't give a shit about the competition. They're after you, the duo is from the Wixen Weekdays Magazine. I just realized it now. Fuck."
Double fuck. Harry was going to strangle somebody. Just how did that damned magazine get their hands on powerful and well known dualists. Damn them and their obsession with his non-existent love life.
With how awful he'd been pinning away, he might have turned to a statue by the end of the day. Draco was right, damn it. He hated saying that.
"I'm so gonna sue them after," he growled and readied to send their enemies out of the ring sky high. The spell was already ongoing and nothing was going to stop it from latching. He'll deal with the after effects later. This was Hermione's field.
Harry's magic had always leaned more on his emotions and intentions than practicality and logic. And he's fucking mad.
The Bombarda Maxima he cast sent them flying and the arena was left as nothing but rubble. He clicked his tongue and walked off the area.
The reporters started clamoring as soon as he was off stage but the competition staff managed to hold them off enough to make a path for Harry and Draco.
Five minutes in and Harry felt his pinky finger stiffen. But he continued to ignore it until he reached the privacy of their hotel room.
He sat at the bed and took a look at his fingers and cursed when he saw his nail at the pinky finger and the flesh underneath it was already stone.
Harry then hurriedly took off his shoes and socks to see that his toes had gone stiff too. He estimated the possible time frame and he'd have half a week left or more if he was lucky.
"Good news with Amore prohibitio, it's not as bad as Hanahaki, that's why it wasn't actually illegal to cast it. But it sure is toeing the line. The magazine will get hell for it," Draco gleefully explained as he plopped a bunch of documents into the table.
Harry took it and began to scan the contents. Eye twitch and magic flaring at some parts.
'The curse will continue to transform the body of the victim until they manage to confess their unrequited feelings. The reciprocation of feelings isn't needed and the admission is enough to stop and cure the curse. For more information—'
The documents caught on fire in his hands. Draco had immediately sprayed an Auguamenti on him. "What the hell, Draco!" Now he was also soaking wet.
"Instincts," the blonde grumbled then gracefully sat himself on the coach, fancy ponce. Draco then sighed and sarcastically flung his hand in the air. "Here lies the Gryffindor savior, death by shyness. Fear of love. Off to the next adventure."
Now Harry did curse the git.
Harry fumbled on his cardigan as he entered his classroom in the University. It was a muggle University to be exact. The Wizarding world doesn't really have any college or any form of it.
After the war, he experienced a great lack in his education, magically wise. But then he saw Hermione nearly have a conniption upon the discovery that she was also lagging behind in normal subjects such as mathematics and science.
That was when he discovered that he wouldn't even qualify as an elementary student graduate in the muggle world. His disguised file said so.
He was turning into an actual educationless delinquent failure that the Dursleys said he was.
His sheer will to prove them wrong and spite was what made him match Hermione in their speedrun education for High School in a matter of three years.
Now he was in college for his literature course and was enjoying it.
And that was where he met him—The literature and physics professor at his University, Albus Dumbledore.
He developed a crush on the older man when he first met him. Then it developed into something akin to love the more he spent time with the kind and patient redhead professor.
Hermione moaned that it was because of the terrible adult figures in his life that he got immediately attracted to the only adult that showed proper care to him. Not to mention a professor that didn't try to kill him. Thank Merlin, he was done with DADA.
But Harry didn't care. He had his crush and wasn't going to show it even at the threat of an Avada. Of course fate has to fuck even this up.
It's been three days since the competition and now parts of his arms and legs were a shade of gray, hence the cardigan. He felt stiff and it certainly wasn't comfortable—the opposite of it in fact.
Hermione wasn't any help either. Backing up Malfoy in telling him just to fess up. Really, those insensitive wankers.
"Harry, my boy. Is something wrong?" He snapped out of his thoughts to notice that he was the only one left in the room.
His face turned red and a squeak left his mouth. "Um, sorry sir! I—I was—"
Harry was utterly mortified. Then a warm hand caressed his shoulder. He then looked up to twinkling beautiful blue eyes. Like the deep ocean and the vast less sky.
His shoulder throbbed and stiffened to stone as he lost his feelings on his legs.
Harry wanted to cry.
Then the tears started falling. He couldn't control it. Now even the crucio made him feel this helpless. He loves Albus. But the older man didn't love him.
And when he confesses any friendship he had with the man would disappear. He couldn't bear to have those blue eyes look at him with disgust.
"I—"
"Hush."
Then he was embraced in a gentle hug. His eyes widened as he was tucked in Albus' chest as the man began to rub his back and whisper soft comforting words.
He felt his left leg crack. His lower chest was graying. His arms are useless.
Harry walked right into his death again didn't he. This time he was a willing fool.
A fool in love, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Voldemort sneered.
"Whatever it is you're having trouble with, I'm not going to judge. I'll listen if that's what you want," Albus offered kindly and continued to pat his back. Like a child being coaxed during a nightmare.
Love was what saved him. Love is going to be the one to kill him.
"I—I'm so sorry," he admitted. Voice coarse as he gripped onto the sleeves of his professor white dress shirt. "I shouldn't feel this way."
Albus didn't so much as physically react and only hummed, urging him to talk more.
"Thi—this is—I don't want to lose everything." If he didn't talk then he'd lose everything either way. Of all the times to be a coward, why now?
He'd have to confess eventually. He won't let this measly curse do what Voldemort and his Death Eaters had been trying for two decades.
Harry had Teddy. Teddy was his everything.
"I love you," he confessed like a death sentence. He then shut his eyes waiting for Albus to flung himself away from him.
But it didn't happen. Albus merely stiffened for a second before chuckling.
"Mr. Potter. I'm afraid nobody on campus doesn't know that. You wear your emotions on your sleeve, I'm sure you've been told that before, " Albus said as he slowly let go of Harry.
He was completely mortified. Was he really that obvious? Merlin, please no.
"As for my answer. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until you graduated," he winked, blue eyes twinkling. "Professionalism and all."
Harry gapped as the older man smiled mischievous and gave him a lemon drop before leaving the room.
It was only then that he noticed he was back to normal. No more stony stiffness and numb limbs. Merlin, was he just dramatic?
Damn it, Draco was right again. The git wasn't going to let this down.