A/N: I know. I'm awful for starting another story when I haven't finished the other two. But this popped into my head while I was watching Sweeny Todd, and wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. Then, once I wrote it, I thought, Let's post it! So I did. *shrug* Sorry and Enjoy!
Draco should have known something was going to happen. It was Friday. Unlike most of the students that attended Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy hated Fridays with a deep and burning passion. This particular Friday was the day after most of the students left for the winter holidays and he'd decided, like several others, that a trip to Hogsmeade could be quite enjoyable.
He should have stayed in bed.
After all, Fridays had always been the worst day of the week for him. Today was no different. The trip to Hogsmeade had gone well enough. It was on the way back that his horrible Friday luck had caught up with him, not that Draco had recognized it at the time.
"What are you doing?" he sneered, stopping a few feet away from the boy leaning down in the snow. Draco knew who it was. That messy black hair and those garish Gryffindor colors were unmistakable.
Potter frowned down at the small black box on the ground then looked up his mouth curling with the hatred Draco more than returned. "What does it matter?" he returned and looked back to the box.
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't touch it," he warned, knowing what Potter was thinking and knowing that he was wasting his breath.
The Gryffindor looked up again, this time with curiosity. "Why? Do you know what it is?"
Draco shook his head. "Of course I don't," he snarled, his hands fisting inside the warm pockets of his coat. "But I can spot magic when I see it. I refuse to take the blame for something happening to 'The Boy Who Lived'," he spat the title like a curse, "simply because he couldn't keep his hands off a stupid box and I was the only one around."
Potter frowned again, and reached out a hand, inching closer to the box without taking his glare from Draco. "Potter," the blond warned threateningly, knowing the other boy was only doing it to annoy him.
He took a step forward as Potter's hand moved closer to the object. "Don't do it," he repeated, taking another step. Potter wasn't listening, his hand moving even closer. He was grinning now, obviously enjoying the slight panic Draco couldn't quite hide. Merlin he was really going to do it! How stupid could a person get?
Potter's hand was only an inch away now, and he showed no sign of stopping. Draco cursed under his breath. The box was starting to glow. It was definitely magic, and Potter was too busy trying to piss him off to notice. Draco lunged forward, tackling Potter to the snow. He was too late though. He felt his hand connect with Potter's head and felt the other boy's hand shoving against his chest as a bright burst of light enveloped them both.
"Ugh," Draco moaned, sitting up as the last of the light faded away. He was cold and wet, and the snow made a less than comfortable resting place. Damn box. Damn Potter. Damn Fridays!
He heard a groan behind him and turned to find Potter leaning forward, his head in his hands. "What the hell is so bad about me and Fridays?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.
Draco had stood and was trying to brush the damp snow from his robe. He froze at Potter's question though and stared wide-eyed at the boy. It couldn't be... Dumbass, he thought experimentally.
"Bastard!" Harry shot back, standing and glaring up at the blond. Draco felt anger welling in his chest and knew it wasn't his. He groaned covering his face with his hands. This is not happening, he chanted slowly in his mind.
"What's not happening?" Potter asked, then paused. Draco could feel the anger fade away, replaced by confusion, then shock. "You didn't say anything, did you?"
Draco shook his head, not that Potter needed it. He could hear the no that echoed through Draco's mind. "Aw man! This can't be happening!" the boy moaned, digging both hands into his messy hair.
"I told you not to touch the box!" Draco cried, aware that his voice was bordering hysteria. "Why did you have to touch the box?"
Potter spun around, narrowing his eyes at the Slytherin. "Because you told me not to touch the box," he yelled. "Why couldn't you tell me to touch it? I would have left it alone then!"
"Oh, no. You are not blaming this on me!" Draco yelled back, and he could feel not only his anger but Potter's growing inside him and it pushed him closer to panic. "I didn't make you touch the box. This is not my fault in any way."
Potter moved closer, no doubt trying to intimidate him. It was less than successful. After all, the boy was fully six inches shorter. "Well, you tackled me!" he snarled. "I wasn't actually going to touch it! So you did make me!"
"Oh, Merlin, you are so annoying!" Draco yelled, reaching out to shove the boy away. He couldn't even work up the amusement to laugh when Potter tripped and fell on his rump. His emotions were currently trying to channel both his own feelings and those of the Gryffindor at his feet. "How old are you anyway? Three? Can't take responsibility for your own actions?"
"Damn it," Potter mumbled, pressing his hands over his ears. "Can we stop the echo? It's making it really hard to listen."
"Let's just go and figure this out," Draco snarled, spinning on his heel and starting back towards the school, kicking snow and twigs out of his way. He didn't bother to check if Potter followed him. Stupid Potter, he thought, along with several other choice words.
"I can hear you, you know," he heard Potter's voice call to him.
"I know," he said with a smirk and glanced over his shoulder briefly. Potter was following along behind him, the cursed box cradled carefully in the edge of his robe. He looked annoyed, but Draco didn't have to see it to know. He could feel the brunet's irritation for himself. He turned back, stomping closer to the school.
A/N: Review. Review! Revieeeeeeeeeew. Does it work better if I say it more? Or if I say it politely: Reviews, please!