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Harry flung curse after curse at his opponent to no avail. He swore under his breath and rolled out of the way, avoiding a searing burst of dark magic by a hair’s breadth. His side protested as he staggered to his feet and raised his wand again. This was officially the most intense duel in his entire career as an Auror.
Unfortunately, the teapot was winning.
“Feel free to jump in anytime, Malfoy!” Harry yelled as another plate flew past his ear.
“Don’t rush me!” Malfoy snapped, casting another Shielding Charm on his person as he flipped maniacally through the ancient tome in his hands. “Spirits,” he muttered urgently, scanning page after page. “Spirits, spirits...prankster spirits, poltergei—wait, that’s it! I have it! Potter! Potter, it’s called a dokkaebi!”
“Really? How fascinating!” Harry spat back. The teapot screeched for vengeance as it flew over his head. “Hey, here’s a thought. Maybe you should look for a way to stop it from killing us!”
Apparently, Malfoy wasn’t pleased with his tone. “I’m trying to help you, Potter,” he retorted indignantly. “These things take patience! We’re dealing with a very ancient entity here. If you insist on blundering into these situations, the least you can do is give me some time to figure out how to save your sorry hide!”
Harry swore up and down that he would never, ever work with a bleeding Curse Breaker again. Even if the Curse Breaker in question was hot in a nerdy, bookish way and smelled like fresh parchment.
“...and don’t ever take that tone with me again!” Malfoy finished with indignant aplomb. “I am an expert in my field and I deserve to be treated with respect and dig...”
“Just. Tell. Me. How to stop it!”
The teapot seemed to sense a challenge. It reared up in aggravation and shot a poison green hex from its spout. Harry dodged and rolled under a table which immediately went up in flames.
Malfoy paled and fumbled with the book again. “Okay, dokkaebi are trickster spirits indigenous to Korea...”
“I know that! We got the cursed kettle from Seoul’s DMLE department!”
“Stop interrupting me!” Malfoy shouted, casting another Shielding Charm around his little bookish haven. “And keep it distracted while I figure this out! Where was I...oh yes, dokkaebi are usually harmless pranksters but there are a few documented cases of malevolent behaviour.”
“You don’t say!”
“You can’t hex it away,” Malfoy continued. “It can only be defeated when it takes a corporeal form. Potter, you have to anger it enough to come out!”
“What do you mean anger it enough?! The bleeding hell am I supposed to do?”
“Just be yourself! It always worked on me.”
Harry shot him a dirty look, but chose to hold his tongue. The teapot was Priority One. Harry racked his brains for a solution. What could he say that was so teeth grindingly infuriating that the dokkaebi would spring forth in a quest for vengeance?
“That teapot makes you look fat!”
The teapot stilled for a moment and hovered uncertainly. Even Malfoy pulled his nose out of the book long enough to gape at him.
“You can’t be serious.”
The teapot screeched angrily before Harry could respond.
And then it exploded, showering the room in shards of porcelain.
The creature that emerged was bizarre even by magical standards. At first glance, it looked a lot like a ghoul, but its upper body was strong and muscular with huge, sinewy arms. Its skin was a mottled red and its face was broad and flat with blunt teeth bared in a snarl. It had one leg and it hopped about to keep its balance, fixating on Harry with black, furious eyes.
“Well, it’s out,” Harry blurted, barely managing to keep his voice from trembling. “What next?”
“Oh, right!” Malfoy sat up as if he’d been zapped by a Stinging Hex and went for the book again. “Give me a moment.”
“What?!” Harry shrieked. “You mean you don’t know how to st-aaah!”
The dokkaebi howled and lunged for him, grabbing hold of Harry and tackling him to the floor. Two steel like arms wrapped around his shoulders, forcing him to his knees.
“Malfoy!”
“I know, I know! It says here you have to wrestle it!”
“What?! I can’t wrestle that thing! It’s...” Harry’s response was cut off as he was sucker punched in the gut. He groaned and responded with a weak kick. He was no skiver in Combat Training but that thing had a mean left hook.
“There’s a trick in here somewhere!” Malfoy replied, flipping the pages rather viciously now. “Stay calm, Potter!”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one being pummelled into the ground. Harry groaned as the creature's hold tightened. He drew his elbow back and hit its midsection but the hold just tightened. His ribs were starting to protest under the strain. Spots were dancing before his eyes.
“Malfoy...” he slurred. “I always...I wanted to...”
“I got it! You have to hit the— Potter!”
Harry gasped in pain as a sharp pain cut into his side. Cracked rib. His head slumped forward. Through his hazy vision he saw Malfoy striding forward, face pale and wand drawn.
“Don't,” he croaked. “Just run...”
“Get away from him!” Malfoy snarled, casting a hex. “Get back!” Another hex. Something must have connected because the creature grunted in surprise. The hold on Harry released and he slumped to the floor. His eyes closed and after that, all he heard was the sharp hiss of Malfoy’s spells and the angry grunts of the creature and the crashing of myriad furniture.
After what seemed like ages, silence descended.
Harry moaned in pain. His eyes fluttered open as a hand stroked his brow.
“Stay with me, Potter,” Malfoy murmured, sounding a lot less waspish than he usually did. “You’ll be fine. We’re going to St Mungo’s.”
Harry smiled dazedly. “You got it,” he mumbled. “How did you...?”
Malfoy smiled faintly and stroked his hair back. “The book was very specific once I found the chapter. Dokkaebi have several weak spots on their right side. I just aimed and fired. It’s gone now, I promise.”
“Oh.” Harry frowned. “That’s clever. You were always clever.”
Malfoy chuckled weakly. “Now I know you’re delirious.”
“It’s a shame,” Harry commented dazedly. “I wanted to...I should’ve asked you out on a date. Before. Too bad I’m dying and stuff...”
Malfoy blushed but didn’t stop stroking his hair. “You’re not going to die, idiot,” he murmured soothingly. “Can you imagine your obituary? Saviour Felled by Demon Kettle. Really Potter, that’s embarrassing.”
Harry chuckled at that, only to yelp in pain as his ribs protested. Malfoy hissed in concern and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull him up.
“Can’t...” Harry protested, but Malfoy shushed him.
“You can and you will,” he replied firmly, hoisting Harry’s up. “You promised me a date.”
When Harry woke up, he was in a sterile room with white walls. St Mungo’s, then. He turned his head, wincing at the stiffness of his muscles.
A vase of flowers was placed on his bedside table, adding a dash of colour to the place. A tin of Darjeeling tea sat there too, no doubt a kind gesture from some thoughtful Mediwitch. Harry shuddered and prodded at it until it fell off the table and out of sight.
The crash must have attracted some attention, because a second later a familiar blond head poked in the door.
“You’re awake,” Malfoy exclaimed in relief, striding over at once. “How do you feel?”
“You’re here,” Harry blurted in surprise.
“Of course I am,” Malfoy replied, sounding perplexed. “You didn’t think I was going to leave you here, did you?”
“I didn’t...I mean...” Harry trailed off and scrubbed an awkward hand through his hair. “Thank you.”
Malfoy cocked his head and smiled. He really did have a nice smile. It lit up his eyes and everything. “And what are you thanking me for?”
“Staying with me,” Harry mumbled. “And saving my life too, I guess.”
“From...?”
Harry huffed and crossed his arms petulantly. “From the evil teapot,” he finished grudgingly.
Malfoy threw his head back and laughed. Harry would have thrown a pillow at him, except he had a rather nice laugh too.
“Oh Potter,” Malfoy chuckled, giving him a fond look. “You really are one of a kind.”
Harry flushed and averted his gaze, plucking a loose thread on his sheets. The look in Malfoy’s eyes was doing funny things to him, making him feel ridiculously bashful. And really, this whole episode was just so embarrassing. Maybe he should just call it a day and forget about asking Malfoy out at all. Why would someone as smart as Malfoy even want to...
“Hey.”
Harry started as a gentle finger tipped his face up. Malfoy smiled and for once, there was no mockery there. “Just so we’re clear, I’m still looking to collect on that date.”
Harry’s eyes widened and a slow, delighted smile broke out on his face. “Really? You’re serious?”
“As serious as a Korean poltergeist in a wrestling match.”
Harry laughed and tipped his face up again, just in time to meet Draco’s lips for a kiss.
The day he fought a teapot and lost would certainly go down in history as Harry's Worst Day Ever...
...but at least it had a happy ending.