DISCLAIMER: These aren't my characters.

Blood

He had taunted, and it hadn't worked. Perhaps this wasn't Potter's worst day. The worst day, those were the best days. So he had had to throw the first punch. The first punch was exciting, because it was never the last.

He examined the warm streak of red across his knuckles, and began breathing. Really breathing. Hazy green eyes stared back at him. A tongue darted out to dip itself in the blood, revealing the flushed skin beneath it. An arm was thrown back, in familiarity and intensity, and drove itself into a smirk.

Malfoy hadn't punched back. He'd taken one punch, taken two, and three had him leaning boneless upon the stone wall behind him. Potter drew back for a moment, to view his work, and to catch his breath. They were coming short and fast and hard now. His face and neck were sweaty, and his fists had blood splattered upon them. There was a speck of blood just above his right eye. His eyes, his eyes were burning.

Malfoy grinned wildly up at him, his chest heaving with the effort of standing.

"Stop it, Malfoy," growled the dark-haired boy. "Stop fucking smiling."

Malfoy shook his head and let out a bitter laugh.

"Make me fucking stop it."

Potter tried, how he tried. He sank one of his fists into the blonde's stomach, causing him to gasp and gurgle for a moment, but when he turned his face up to his assailant again, the grin hadn't gone.

This was all wrong. These days, Malfoy hadn't even been fighting back. It was pathetic, really. Potter was angry. He needed to be hurt. He needed to be hurt.

He began screaming at Malfoy, and fisted the front of his shirt in both hands. Malfoy's eyes looked glazed over, and he was still smirking.

Screaming, Harry was screaming.

He slammed Malfoy roughly into the wall, and his eyes were wild, almost hysterical. He shook Malfoy, and heard his head make contact against the hard stone. The boy hissed and moaned, and he fell limp for an instant, held up only by Potter's grip on his robes. But he didn't say anything. He didn't raise a fist. He stood there, no, he was there, limp and breathing.

Potter tried, once more, he hoped, he tried, he shoved Malfoy into the wall again, only this time, he used his whole body. He pressed himself, all of himself, against his rival, his equal. Against the only person who he could count on for a reaction.

He felt the blonde's hardened cock straining against his leg.

Harry dropped him. He dropped him, and then he couldn't stand either. Draco slid down the wall, breathing. Harry fell into the grass. There was blood there too.

He sobbed.

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