Drarry. That's right. Drarry. It's back, bitches. I BLAME EVERYONE BUT ME I JUST NEEDED ANGRY HARRY FIFTH YEAR FIC -cries-
Dunno if it's finished or not. I just need something for my feels. XD No idea where it would go.
Draco was patrolling around the school on prefect duties as usual, bored out of his mind. There hadn't been any students around, there were no couples to be found necking in a corridor that he could amuse himself with for a bit. All in all, being a prefect was rather boring. He did, however, amuse himself with thinking about new insults for Potter. Maybe something about that dog again, it really seemed to set him off the last time....
His musings were interrupted by a repetitious thumping sound. Someone was buggering again and he was going to catch them!! He dashed down the hallway and skidded a bit as he came around the corner and found Harry Potter... punching a wall.
"What are you doing, Potter? Finally go daft from a final curse to the head?" He drawled. Crushed it.
"FUCK OFF MALFOY!" He screamed and started throwing himself bodily at the wall, cracking elbows and knocking his head. He seemed to run out of steam, at that point, and Draco felt like someone had cracked an egg over his head. Trepidation and a bit of--was it concern?-- trickled like yolk down his spine.
"Oi... Seriously, you're gunna break something. Calm down, Potter..." he steppe forward, wand out just in case. Potter had been known to attack rather viciously recently. The other teen just slumped, wheezing and making some dry sounding coughs. When draco was closer he realized that Potter was crying. Typically this would have been hysterical, but he was actually nervous that Potter was coming unstrung.
"Leave me alone. Just..." Potter finished lamely and slid down the wall and pressed his forehead to it.
"Why? So you can go batshit on some first year who goes hunting for a loo?" he drawled and winced. Never tickle sleeping dragons, right? Yes, let's be sarcastic at an angry bear of a Potter, Draco. That won't end poorly....He thought to himself. Thankfully, Potter still seemed to be winded. Draco caught sight of his hands and winced. "Pretty sure you broke your hands, Potter..See, that's what happens when you punch walls."
"I don't need this right now.." Potter shudders and looks uncharacteristically vulnerable. Draco supposed maybe he had addled his brains.
"Oh belt up. It's not like I'm laughing at you."
"Funny, it sounds like it to me." Harry turned with a wince, pushing with his hands. Draco felt his eyebrows raise of their own accord, silently impressed that Potter didn't cry out. Though he would have rather eaten his own tie than admit that.
"Sarcasm doesn't shut off...Don't put your weight on your hands, you dumb git." He snapped and hooked Potter under his arms to turn him around. "what part of them being broken didn't you get? Doesn't it hurt?"
"yeah..So what?" he made a face and slumped back against the wall.
"Well if you're able to do some wand work with your feet, I suppose it doesn't matter at all, does it." He sat down against a nearby patch of wall.
"Seriously, malfoy, why are you even here?" Potter shifted, pulling his rapidly purpling hands into his lap.
"Prefect, remember? Doing my rounds." Draco gestured. "I thought someone was boffing in this hall."
"No. Here. Sitting, talking to me. You could have hexed me and had a laugh." Potter blinked more than usual, eyes bright and surrounded by deep bruise-like bags.
"Oh...." Draco paused. Why WAS he here? He should have done all of that. But... there was a feeling, something tenuous in the air. Potter was losing his grip, he was sure of it. He thought again, still silent. Why should I give a rat's arse if Potter goes round the twist? He mused. The answer was both simple and complicated. He didn't really know Potter as such. He hated the attention, his typically pretentious attitude, the way he was just GOOD. Good at making friends, good at Quidditch. True, he was bollocks at classwork, but Draco assumed that was mostly due to him not really trying in most subjects. He was famous, he had friends and family and money and no one glared at him as soon as they knew his name. there was the root of the fight...old hurt mingled with jealousy.
Potter hadn't even given him a chance and he'd written him off as evil, and by god Draco was going to be the most evil little shit Potter ever had to deal with. Purely out of spite and jealousy that pathetic Weasely who'd mocked his name was friends with the most famous boy Draco'd even been around.
Draco was still thinking when Potter grabbed his head and let out a hiss of pain before slamming it back against the wall.
"Oh brilliant, Potter. Slamming the headache against some stone has to be the best possible way to get rid of it, right? Dumb arse!" He pushed Potter's head away from the wall and checked to make sure he hadn't cracked his skull. Potter had gone very still, barely breathing, like a wild animal being touched by a stranger. Draco pulled his hands back slowly and just stared at them.
Why WAS he here? He just pet Potter's head, for fuck's sake! His father harped endlessly about being less impulsive, but he never learned to reign it in. That's why he ended up in trouble so often.
Then the reason hit him. It was funny to joke about, pick at, ruffle Potter's feathers. But... they needed him. Either side did. Something to fight against, something to fight for. His brows pulled down in thought and he brought his thumb up to his chin, thinking. He'd been laughing about it for ages but the whole wizarding had turned on Potter. Was he really cracking under the pressure? Didn't Draco want that?
"You need to go to Pomfrey for those hands." he just said, finally. Potter looked as puzzled as Draco felt, but he reached down and grabbed Potter's arm to heft him up anyway. "Little less chocolate frogs, Potter, you're pretty heavy." He wasn't though. But it popped out anyway.
Potter just blinked slowly and swayed on his feet. Draco tugged his arm over his shoulders, mentally berating himself for being fucking crazy tonight. He was well in the middle of calling himself several creating names involving shrinking potions and broomsticks when Potter dropped his head on Malfoy's shoulder. He almost faltered in step, mind going blank. His heart pounded and he gulped on his suddenly dry mouth. "you alright, Potter?" He asked, feigning gruffness he didn't feel.
"yeah..." Potter confirmed, voice soft and sombre.
Draco gulped again and steadfastly ignored the blush the crept up his cheeks. They walked together to the hospital wing very slowly. Potter's hands were horribly swollen and mottled now.
"You still need to tell me why you were so gravely offended by the wall that you felt the need to beat it like an angry troll." Malfoy pressed.
"Just angry..." Potter muttered.
"well, that was spectacularly stupid then. I give you an E." He jokes and to his utter startlement, Potter laughs a bit.
"I think you're touched in the head, Malfoy." Potter replies. They arrive at the Hospital wing and Draco calls for Madame Pomfrey who comes up in a flurry of robes and pursed lips.
"Have you boys been fighting AGAIN?!" She demands. "I'll be telling Dumbledore about this, mark me!" for some reason, Potter's fists clenched with a disturbing sound of grinding and cracking bones.
"Madame Pomfrey, look at me! If he'd broken his hands on my face, I wouldn't be so drop dead gorgeous right now." he protests. Potter relaxed again and even chuckled.
"He's just lost his mind tonight, Pomfrey. Might want to check Malfoy for jinxes." Madame Pomfrey did indeed look like she wanted to do a jinx check on Draco, and directed him to help Potter to a nearby bed for her to inspect his hands. Before he stepped away from Potter, the other teen whispered at him. "Thanks, Malfoy.."
Draco paused again, feeling an odd swell of pride in his chest. HE was thanked by Potter. No-one else was there for him but Malfoy. It was a strange, but good feeling.
"Just don't got beating the walls again any time soon, Potter. I'm pretty sure they're going to win." He teased, and got another lopsided smile that caused his heart to flip-flop in his chest.
Madame Pomfrey did indeed check him for jinxes and then narrowed an eye at him. "Clean..." She said suspiciously. Draco just gave her a winning smile and went to continue his rounds with a jaunty wave. He left for his rounds to walk and contemplate more. He had a lot to think about.