Playing with Fire

First Blood

"My father will hear about this, Potter"

"Well, mine sure as hell won't," the words escaped his throat in a growl before he extracted his hands from Draco's collar and aimed a quickly formed fist at his pompous nose.

Draco blinked a few times, moving his fingertips to his nostril, feeling the blood before seeing it. His features morphed into a snarl and he shoved Harry back before aiming a punch at his jaw.

November of fifth year brought with it many things. Boring charms essays, the first snow of winter, evenings filled with treacle tarts and firelight among other things.

Namely, Harry and Draco realizing they could get into fistfights with little reprimanding. The first time, they were discovered unconscious in an empty hall on the third floor, a heap of sharp elbows and knobby knees.

Neville Longbottom was making his way to the bathroom, having excused himself from Potions about ten minutes prior. Truly, he just wanted to escape Snape's waspish glare for as long as he could. As he was wandering the third floor corridor, debating heading back down to the dungeons for class, he stumbled over something on the ground.

A body?

Two bodies?

Next, he noticed the blood. Shortly after, he examined the entwined students and realized who exactly he was looking at. Neville pivoted and rushed to the closest classroom. He distantly acknowledged that's where Harry must have gotten to, and why he was absent from Potions. Hermione could stop worrying now. Well, actually, this might make her worry more. His train of thought was interrupted as he burst into Professor McGonagall's classroom, frightening the first years so much the one closest to the door toppled out of her desk. As she climbed back into her chair, Neville stuttered through an explanation and had McGonagall follow after him through the deserted walkway. McGonagall rushed the two boys to the infirmary, dismissing Neville with a wave of her hand. He tromped down the stairs, confused and dreading having to explain his prolonged disappearance to Professor Snape. In the back of his mind, he wished that he too was passed out.

Harry regained consciousness first, stirring in the infirmary bed before abruptly sitting up. There was an awful taste in his mouth, and his knuckles were faintly throbbing. He cracked open his eyes, faltering when he saw McGonagall at his feet. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a raised hand and a sharp gaze.

"We will talk when you're both awake," it was at these words Harry realized he was not alone in the hospital wing. In fact, the bed right next to his was occupied by the very reason he was here.

McGonagall's mouth was a sharp slant across her face. She sat in silence until Malfoy began to stir in his sleep. His hand reached for his nose, features curving into a wince before blinking his eyes open.

"I'll give you a moment to collect your bearings, Mister Malfoy," she paused for a heartbeat, "hopefully you've collected them. Now."

She stood with grace one can only gather with years and years of practice. McGonagall positioned herself in between the beds each boy was sitting up in before taking in a steep inhale, "To be so smart, you are both so, so, idiotic at times. Particularly when it comes to one another," Harry felt himself grimace, risking a glance at Draco, discovering the blonde looked downright nauseous. "Look, no spells were cast. Pomfrey says you won't be in any pain by the time the hour is up. I see no reason to raise a fuss about this. You will each serve a detention, separately of course, for the Professors whose classes you missed making each other bloody messes," Harry allowed himself a sigh- Snape would certainly make the most of this opportunity.

"I implore you to avoid this behavior in the future. Don't let me find you here again, boys."

And with that, Minerva McGonagall swept out of the room, her robes swishing behind her.

Draco looked like he was in a state of shock, and Harry couldn't avoid the laugh bubbling its way out of his mouth. His head snapped up, "Something funny?"

This only served to spur on Harry's fit of giggles, he barked out, "Your face," Draco looked entirely affronted by this and Harry plowed on, "Have you never been in trouble before, Malfoy?"

Draco paused before answering, his head tilting to the side, "Not all of us enjoy disappointing authority. You've had years of practice, I haven't."

Harry's laughter stumbled to a stop. He could hear his blood boiling in his ears.

Don't let me find you here again, boys drifted around his head before he took a steadying breath. I will not take the bait. He instead fixed a smile on his face, turning to Draco properly. "You get used to it, believe me. McGonagall has told me off on a bi-weekly basis since second year,"

Draco scoffed, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Well, forgive me if I don't wish to make a habit of it."

"Fine. Truce?"

A quiet sigh. "Truce."

Hands shook, a pantomime of eleven year old boys that had grown into despondent young men.