Harry potter was not a typical seventeen year old boy, not by anyone's standards; he had killed a basilisk at the age of twelve, mastered the Patronus charm at thirteen, and also happened to be the only person to have ever survived the killing curse. He was brave, kind, loyal, and, at the moment, royally screwed. He was hiding behind an overturned table, trying desperately to find his wand, his surroundings crashing down everywhere around him, and the cause of it was less than twenty feet away.
Well, technically, it was the causes.
At first glance both men seemed to be normal, if oddly dress, and if one also ignored the fact that they were destroying the small pub in the process of trying to destroy each other. As Harry watched, the men seemed to fly with the speed of their movements, and there was also the occasional flicker of light as their steel weapons were hurled through the air.
There was that flicker of light again and Harry barely had time to move before it sliced past him, no less than an inch from his cheek.
Way too close, Harry thought as he scrambled close to the ground, frantically searching for his fallen wand. Harry had been ready to stupefy the men when they had first started fighting, and then his wand had been launched out of his hand as a chair hit him.
"Come on," he muttered as he eyes scanned the room, ignoring the noise around him, "where are you?"
There! His mind screamed and before he had any time to think about what he was doing, Harry threw himself into the room, his hand grasping his wand just as he realized that he'd landed straight in the center of the fight.
Harry was suddenly incredible thankful for all his years of playing Quidditch as he dodged another knife. It's like a bludger, Harry thought, only these really can kill you. And he, Harry thought as he looked at the man who had thrown the weapon, is Draco Malfoy.
"Stupefy!" Harry screamed, and the man was down. That just leaves, Harry whirled around, fuck, he thought as he saw that there was no one there. Where the hell…, he thought as he spun around looking for the other man. All he could see was the ruined pub, the strange man was nowhere to be found, and then everything seemed to slow down; the knife shot at him from out of nowhere, whistling as it cut through the air, going straight for his chest. He lifted his wand, opened his mouth to cast something, anything, to stop it, but he was too slow. The knife slid straight into him so smoothly that for a moment it didn't even hurt.
The thing that most surprised Harry as he fell was when he didn't hit the floor. Someone had grabbed him from behind, someone whose soft, pink hair was falling into his face. It smelled like strawberries. Harry had the insane urge to laugh; there was blood pouring out of his chest and all he could think about was the smell of this stranger's hair. He could hear screaming, first from the stranger holding him, then from somewhere in front of him. All of it sounded very far away, as though his ears were filled with wool.
Then the world shot back with renewed clarity as the sick freak holding him yanked the knife out of his chest. He became distantly aware the he was screaming something, but he couldn't quite make out the words, all he was really worried about was the searing pain in his chest. Then he wasn't aware of anything at all, because the pink-haired stranger had knocked him unconscious, she had been able to understand what he was saying and was in no mood to listen to more.
A/N: So, first chapter. Too short, right? I guess this is sort of a prologue, I'll try to make the next chapter longer. Just tell me what you guys think, any comments are appreciated.