Setting: School Corridor
Summary: A confrontation, in which there is Shouting and Snide Remarks About Ferrets, and the two finally come to blows - the Muggle way, no less.
Harry wasn't in the best of moods when he left the Owlery, where he'd just sent his third letter in two days to Lupin - he'd spent the past few nights sleeplessly tossing in bed, wondering if that Quibbler article had any truth in it. Furrowing his brow, he stared gloomily at the floor, trying not to worry too much - that was when he rounded a corner and collided into Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy had been minding his own business, which in current Draco Malfoy-parlance meant wandering aimlessly around the castle. He'd tried immersing himself in his studies, but that only went so far before becoming meaningless, and he'd found walking around made it easier to think. It had gained him a fair number of bruises, however, as he had a tendency to look down as he walked, relying on a hand against the wall to guide his steps. This didn't help him escape the collision, however.
Being unprepared, the literal run-in struck him more heavily, and he found himself stumbling for balance on the uneven floor stones. He caught himself and glared at the offending--oh. It was Potter. Draco found himself unsurprised.
Feeling slightly dazed, Harry blinked and and stared up from his position on the floor at who - or what - had hit him. And of course it had to be Draco Malfoy, who was sneering unpleasantly at him, as usual.
"What's the big idea, Malfoy?" he said irritably, trying to get up as quickly as possible without aggravating his sore rear end.
"Watch where you're going, Potter," Draco sneered half-heartedly. "Just because you tend to think the castle belongs to you doesn't mean it actually does."
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you," Harry replied. Having to deal with Malfoy was the last thing he needed at the present moment. "Don't you have to be somewhere? Drowning puppies or something, maybe?"
"Only if they're yours," Draco shot back. "Why do you have to be wandering around, anyway?"
"That's none of your business, Malfoy." Harry said. "At least I don't strut."
"No, you shamble along and run into people who are trying to mind your own business--at least, when you don't have your Gryffinbootlickers carrying you around on their shoulders."
"You ran into me." Harry was now finding it very difficult indeed to resist the urge to attack Malfoy. "Now push off, Malfoy. I'm sure your daddy's waiting for you."
Draco clenched his teeth and fists. "Oh, of course it's all my fault. The marvelous Harry Potter could never be at fault for anything, I see. Not even killing his own dear criminal."
"Wh- you take that back, Malfoy. Take that back now."
"Push off, Potter, I don't answer to you. Do I look like the Red Terror or the Bush-Haired Wonder?"
"I - said - take - that - back."
"And I said, PUSH OFF, POTTER, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DEMAND ANYTHING FROM ME."
"AND YOU'VE GOT NO RIGHT SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT. What're you going to do now, huh, Malfoy? Run to daddy's arms and tell him that the nasty Potter boy has been bullying Daddykin's precious little ferret?"
"FUCK YOU, POTTER," Draco yelled. "DON'T EVEN THINK YOU KNOW HOW TO GO AROUND STARTING TO TALK ABOUT MY FATHER, YOU PARENTLESS FREAK!"
"SHUT UP!" Harry didn't even think to reach for his wand. Before he knew it, he'd raised his clenched fists and sailed a punch at Malfoy.
The Draco of a few months ago would have sidestepped, or blocked. The Draco of now merely let out a wordless yell and charged at Potter, letting the punch slam against the side of his face--he was concentrating mainly on hurting Potter as much as possible.
They pummeled furiously at each other, Harry not really caring how much Malfoy hit him as long as he managed to hit Malfoy enough to cause him some serious, and hopefully fatal, internal bleeding.
Draco was in much the same state, thrashing wildly as they rolled on the floor and trying to smash Potter's head into pieces by means of his hair.
It seemed to go on for ages - Quidditch training had made them both fighting fit - Harry occasionally managing to get out a, "stupid - ferrety - git" as he attempted to kill Malfoy while trying to disentangle his hair from the latter's grasp at the same time. For Draco's part, the only noises to come from his throat were angry grunts and growls. Knees, elbows, arms, legs flew wildly as he attempted to gain the upper hand.
They both seemed to tire at the same time, throwing less punches and kicks at each other until, finally, they managed to wrench away from each other's grip.
Draco, panting, thrust a lock of hair out of his face and glared at Potter, who responded with a murderous stare as he wiped the blood from his cut lip. Harry slowly stood up, trying to ignore the small crowd that had gathered. He decided that, given his present state, it would be wise if he skipped breakfast.
"Sod off, Malfoy." he said.
Draco rolled to his feet as best he could, ignoring the abrasions on his face for now. "Fuck you, Potter," he spat, turned, and began walking. Destination? Wherever Potter wasn't.