Harry was still furious with himself the next morning, and even more so when he happened to glance in the bathroom mirror. His eyes were red as Rudolph's fucking nose.

Lucky I even saw it. If I'd gone to school all bug-eyed and puff-faced...

But dwelling on a disaster that hadn't happened like he was some damned philosopher wasn't going to get him anywhere. He needed to figure out how to fix this. It was far too early for Vernon to be awake; picking a fight and getting a couple of black eyes was out of the question. He spared a glance at Petunia's various jars of powders and creams and Satan's soul and who-knew-what-all, before shaking his head. A drop of sweat would ruin him.

Imagine that, people knowing I was crying and that I was wearing makeup. Fucking social suicide,

A small snort of laughter escaped from his lips, nothing at all like what came out around Hermione. He cringed, thinking of how she probably hated him, felt sorry for him-

Fucking cut it out. This is no time to nitpick every little wrong thing about your asshole self. So put your dick on and figure this shit out.

He roughly ran his hands through his hair- didn't matter whether it got messed or not just yet.

Wait.

He felt like one of those cartoon light bulbs had shown up over his head. Had he really been such a dweeb not to see it?

Malfoy always thought he could win any fight he graced to take part in. Harry would just let him think this was the truth long enough to get a little banged up, then beat the goober's ass into the ground.

Allowing himself a small grin into the mirror- hey, it was a great plan- he gelled his hair back out of his eyes and left for the bus a short time later.

Finding Malfoy was fairly easy- he was always surrounded by the richest, well dressed in falsely destroyed clothes group of posers in the yard. Harry strode directly up to him, snarled something about the blonde's supposed-whore-of-a-mother, and the game began.

Malfoy dived, Harry purposely didn't duck in time. Scored him a smarting eye- would probably be blacked in a good fifteen minutes. It had been a nice punch, he would grant that.

The other boy falsely sensed victory, jumped into the fray again. Of course, he wouldn't have if they hadn't been surrounded by a group of people he felt the need to impress. Harry had the advantage there. He didn't care what these morons thought of him, so he could fight any way he wanted. He grabbed the slimeball's hand as it came down again, twisting it to the side and landing a good blow into his opponent's stomach.

Malfoy gasped, the wind knocked out of him, but didn't hesitate to strike Harry on the jaw. This was countered by an uppercut on Harry's part, who enjoyed the look of rage on that pretentious face as Malfoy stumbled back.

Then the blonde pulled the one move that was written against in every code of decent fighting known to man- he kicked Harry in the crotch. Harry couldn't help it- he sank to his knees, his eyes squeezed shut. Several people groaned nearby, maybe in sympathy. He didn't know, didn't care. It didn't take him long to get back up again. Oh, he was still in burning-fire pain, but now Malfoy had crossed the line, and he was going to fucking pay for it. Harry dove this time, knocking the smaller boy to the ground and hitting him a couple times on either side of his rat face. He let him up after that, expecting the thing to be over. But no. The little asshole jumped again, refusing to admit he was beat. Punching, kicking, swearing, anything either could think of went on for a few minutes before Harry felt someone tugging him away. He swore, tried to wrench himself free- and then realized the crowd as already a good couple of yards away, and nearly everyone was laughing. Harry turned, expecting the person dragging him to be a teacher of even the fucking principal, and saw Hermione.

"You're an idiot," she muttered, shooting a glare and shoving him before crossing her arms. He knew why they were laughing, now. He looked like the biggest whipped kitten of them all.

"Yeah, I know," he spat. "Why the hell did you just do that?"

"Because you were making a fool of yourself. You really didn't see people coming up behind you? Draco Malfoy doesn't fight fair, and you had no chance."

"What makes you think that? I can handle Malfoy and his fucking friends."

He expected her, being the lady she was, to wince at his language, but she didn't.

"Right, I'm sure. If all of them were on you at once you would end up in the hospital."

"Really? You think so?" he sneered at her. "I have a small advantage."

"Oh? What's that? Please, I'd love to know what makes you able to take down more than ten other people at once." He reached into his pocket, drawing his switchblade and flicking it. The sharp silver knife caught the light for a moment, then it was gone and tucked back into his pocket. Now he noted her flinch.

"You're really going to stab someone?" her look intensified, but she looked scared now.

Oh, hell. That was fucking stupid, what you just did.

"Not if I don't have to. Don't rat me out, yeah?" he didn't apologize, couldn't do that. It wasn't his thing. So he tried to pack it into those few words.

She rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly her eyes darted over Harry's shoulder- the principal was stumbling towards him, the short little ball of rules he was. Hermione tucked her book title against her chest- Catcher in the Rye again, Harry noted- and was gone so suddenly it was like she hadn't been there at all.

"Bye." Harry muttered half-heartedly, before turning to let the fatass give him his detention. The look of shock on his face at Harry's cooperation was almost as good as how Ms. Skank had stared the other day.

Almost.

Harry found her again in the library at lunch- not eating, of course. She'd pretended he wasn't there all through homeroom and first period. Did fighting really offend her that much? Well, every one had to have a flaw.

Not her.

"Hey."

"Hello." Her voice was cold now, the way it should have been from the moment they'd met.

"Fighting really upsets you that much?"

"No. Moronic antics irritate me."

"What exactly are you insinuating?" He purposely used the overlarge word, determined to prove that he wasn't dumb, if that was what she was hinting at.

"That you had no reasons to pick a fight with Malfoy and you could have gotten yourself seriously hurt."

"We've been over this."

"Yes, and the idea of you stabbing someone is even worse."

"You sound like my mother." Harry's cheeks flushed the second the words were out.

"I take it that's a bad thing?"

"I wouldn't know. Never met her."

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit ! Why did I say that? Why did I fucking say that?

"Oh," She offered him a small smile, not sickly sympathetic, like others in the past, but... like she understood. He felt like she did, somehow, even though he knew for a fact she'd met her mother.

The strangest thing happened then. Almost without moving, like it wasn't her doing, like some being had taken control for her... she reached out and put her hand over his.

Her hand was warm, soft. Like her. He glanced up, caught her eyes for half a second, opened the mouth in his blushing face to speak, to ask-

And his hand wrapped itself around hers.

He hadn't meant it to.

But it did.

And he liked it.