.:Blood:. is sticky, and iron *tasting*.

I "know". It's Common k.n.o.w.l.e.d.g.e.

I have been .h:i:t. before.

I did not feel bad for Draco. He had it coming. Screaming at me, and all that. I can't say I didn't care. I did +c.a.r.e+ about Draco. D.r.a.c. o…. Draco Malfoy. So, I k.n.e.w. because it is in fact, common k.n.o.w.l.e.d.g.e., that when someone is punch [square] in the F:A:C:E, they will *taste* .:blood:. & maybe, just m-a-y-b-e, that was why I c+a+r+e+d. Maybe.

I w!a!n!t!e!d that Slimey Slytherin to *(apologize)*.

He wouldn't, I knew for sure. He would just pick himself off the floor and scream at me more, until `t`e`a`r`s` fought their way down my cold cheeks. He wouldn't even *(apologize)* then, not until I s̞tormed̞ out and didn't "talk" to him for 4 weeks straight like the last time this happened. This time, however…

It was different.

He was screaming at me in a different tone, with a different stance, and a different look in his eyes. It was all different. |Confusingly different|

MAYBE IT WAS THE HOLIDAYS.

He sputtered on the floor, the tiniest spot of .:blood:. on the corner of his mouth. I looked down at my ~wand~, before throwing it away across the dorm. I regretted using that thing as a .W.E.A.P.O.N. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. Unlike all the all other times, he would look up at me and curse. Call me stupid and a worthless being and tell me I didn't deserve to be in his presence. But… suddenly my j.u.m.b.l.e.d and loud• and crowded thoughts faded.

No.

Draco Malfoy did not mouth off at me. He simply, tucked he's knees to his chest and muttered something that I did not understand.

"I'm sorry."

The words were so delicate and uttered so quietly, I though he was about to cry.

"Sorry…?" The words fell of my tongue awkwardly, and he looked up at me with stormy grey eyes. I know what is different. Regret. Care. Disappointment.

I felt bad for hitting Draco now, and I knew that he was only trying to calm himself down on the inside. His father, the fights, Voldemort… Harry Potter. He is strained. I know. So I sit down next to Draco on the carpeted floor of the Slytherin dorm. His white t-shirt had one small stain of blood on the shoulder, while his black pants stood unharmed. I lean against his shoulder now. He looks at me like I have three heads.

"You're… not mad?" His voice cracks as he hides his head in the floor once more. My eyes scanned over his porcelain face. I know the answer. No.

"I shouldn't have hit you, Draco." I place one hand on his arm and the other on the side of his face, "I'm sorry."

Draco suddenly shook his head and rose his head up in an angry burst.

"I'm stupid and vile and a dispointment to everyone! You should have hit me! I'm terrible to you! I'm a horrible person who can't do anything right! Just ask my father-"

My lips were on his. He needed to shut up and stop it. Just calm down. I needed him to shut up and stop it and kiss me. Our lips basked against one another's until a felt a slight tug in my hair. It was Draco's hand. Slowly, his other arm came around and met the side of my face, gently pulling me closer to him. Gentle. That's what it was. Draco was a loud, self-righteous, cruel and evil teenager. But, he was gentle.

The need for breath is what caused the break for air. Now my lips felt cold, even when the Slytherin dorms were kept nice and warm during the December and January months. Draco swallowed before the smallest smile played on his lips.

"I don't care what your father says. He knows nothing about you, Draco. You're not a horrible person, and you can to do things right. You just need a little guidance. That's all. So, do-" Draco suddenly cut me off, smiling.

"Will you just shut up and kiss me again?"