"I think," Harry Potter said quietly, green eyes flashing dangerously, "that you had better take that back."
Draco Malfoy had had just about enough of this particular argument. "Then it's really a shame that I don't care what you think," he snapped, and turned to go. Not only had he had enough of this argument, he'd had enough of this day. It was easily the lousiest on record, and he didn't care to make it worse by failing with Harry again. Oh, sure, it might seem to the untrained eye as if he'd gotten Harry's attention, but Malfoy knew better. He knew Harry's mind was mostly on the insult Malfoy had just laid on Hermione Granger. Not on Malfoy himself. Not at all.
Malfoy took a deep breath to hold back the ill temper that had been building all day. With his luck, letting go would only make the day worse, if that was possible. He kept walking.
But Harry, incensed, refused to it go.
"We're going to have this out right now, Malfoy," he fairly snarled, and grabbed Malfoy's arm to stop him.
Malfoy stopped cold, stunned, as the one touch from Harry easily shattered the defenses that had been holding him together.
Had his customary two-person entourage been around, perhaps Malfoy would somehow have managed to remain collected. But Crabbe and Goyle were elsewhere; he'd snapped at them to leave him the hell alone hours ago.
So there was nothing left to keep Malfoy in check, not even the cold logic of the fact that starting a fight would get him in trouble, and it was with a confused surge of rage and vulnerability that he whirled around and backhanded Harry hard across the face.
Harry clapped a hand to his nose, blood dripping almost immediately through his fingers, and fury sparked in his eyes as they met Malfoy's. An electric surge of excitement sang through Malfoy.
He had finally gotten Harry's attention. He tensed in preparation for the coming fight, feeling that it was worth it because Harry finally saw him.
Harry's free hand clenched in a fist; Malfoy raised his own fists in anticipation of the blow -
"Harry, no!" Hermione sprang forward, clutching at Harry's arm. "It's not worth getting yourself in trouble over."
Malfoy nearly turned and hit her instead. How dare she interfere now of all times, now that Harry finally saw him? But he controlled himself, keeping focussed on Harry - the green eyes bright with rage, the slim body tense and ready.
Tension vibrated between the two of them as they continued to glare, neither of them escalating the fight or letting it decline, Malfoy not wanting to speak for fear that it might break the spell.
But it was for naught - after a moment, Harry relaxed slightly, lowering his fist, eyes becoming more contemptuous than angry.
"No," he agreed flatly, looking directly at Malfoy. "He's not."
And only then did he break eye contact and walk away.
Malfoy stared after him for a moment, heart in his stomach. He'd been wrong. Harry hadn't seen him after all. He'd lost again.
What did he have to do? He'd tried everything he could think of. What did he have to do to make Harry look at him, and keep looking?
But after a moment, as he always did, Malfoy squared his shoulders and set his jaw grimly. This mental whinging was unworthy of him. Malfoys did not brood. They plotted, and they acted. And that was what he would do. There had to be a way to get Harry Potter's attention, and he would find it.
And, as always, he ignored the fact that Malfoys did not waste their time on trash like Harry Potter.
"Smash the Mirror", lyrics copyright The Who:
You don't answer my call
With even a nod or a wink
But you gaze at your own reflection
You don't seem to see me
But I think you can see yourself
How can the mirror affect you?
Can you hear me, or do I surmise
That you fear me, can you feel my temper
Rise rise rise rise
Rise rise rise rise
Rise rise rise rise
RISE!
Do you hear or fear or do I smash the mirror?
Do you hear or fear or do I smash the mirror?
Do you hear or fear or do I smash the mirror?
Do you hear or fear or do I smash the mirror?