Snow was gliding past the windows of Hogwarts, falling giddily and taunting the students from its perch high in the air.
Harry, nestled in an armchair by the corner of the Common Room, flicked his eyes somewhat maniacally across a yellowing sheet of parchment as Ron and Hermione eyed him warily from their seats just in front of the roaring fire.
The pair was golden in the light of the flames; the thin layer of flyaways surrounding Hermione's hair glowed like a halo, and flames were reflected in her deep chocolate eyes, which were heavy with concern.
"There's something strange about his obsession with Malfoy," she whispered to Ron. "I mean, we all suspect him, but… I don't know. You don't see us studying the Map, watching his every move." Her lip curled slightly in thought. "It just – doesn't seem right. I don't know."
Ron looked up from his Charms essay and nodded halfheartedly, obviously not interested. Curiosity spread across his features, however, as he noticed Harry rise hurriedly from his seat and stuff the Map into his pocket somewhat savagely. "D'you suppose…?"
Hermione nodded.
The 3rd floor bathroom… what was Malfoy doing there? Granted, he could be going to the bathroom, but that was beside the matter.
Harry brushed aside a tapestry of two men sitting hand-in-hand under a laurel tree, taking a shortcut to the location the blonde boy currently occupied. He emerged into a hallway right in front of the lavatory and pushed the door gently open.
Luna Lovegood was standing in the middle of the room, her face contorted in agony. Her long, silvery hair slowly was sucked back into her head; her massive eyes were cloaked beneath low, delicate lids; her cheekbones slowly rose and emerged from beneath her skin.
She sank to her knees in the middle of the room and her hands fluttered quickly to cover her face, but Harry recognized her quickly.
"Draco?" He glanced down at the Map, still open in his pocket. His eye quickly traveled to the bathroom, where he saw two small dots: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.
"Get the fuck out, Potter," Draco spat.
"What are you doing? Are you using the Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Luna?"
"I told you, get the fuck out," Draco said evenly, menace dripping from every syllable. He pulled his wand from beneath his robes.
"Don't do this, Malfoy," Harry responded, pulling out his own wand and brandishing it threateningly.
Draco smirked. "Expelliarmus!"
Harry yelled, "Protego!" But he had been too late; his wand flew out of his hand into a urinal behind him.
The Slytherin laughed, delighted, and moved his gaze to meet Harry's. "Oh, look." His already wide grin broadened and he took a slow, sauntering step towards Harry. "The Boy Who Lived is entirely defenseless. What a shame. We wouldn't want him to get hurt now, wouldn't we?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me, Malfoy?"
"Hmm… I'm not sure. Some whimpering would be nice. I'd like to see some begging, I suppose. Crying…" he smiled wickedly.
"It's not gonna happen," Harry seethed. He turned quickly about and sprinted towards the urinal, his hand outstretched; ceramic was exploding all around him as Draco cast curses wildly. His fingertips brushed his wand just as Draco's wand pointed directly at him and Draco shrieked, "Crucio!"
A roaring fire erupted all over Harry's body, and thousands of tiny daggers dug into him. He clamped his lips together, shaking with pain. His eyes were popping out of his skull, and the fire continued to rage, tearing off his flesh.
A small moan slipped slowly from his lips.
Draco snickered and lowered his wand. At once the fire sensation stopped, and Harry raised himself shakily to his knees. He groaned, and his lips fumbled to form words, but no sound could escape his constricted throat.
"You… asshole…" he finally managed, and clambered to his feet.
Before the pureblood had time to react, Harry had leapt on him, his fists flying rapidly. He knocked Draco's wand out of his hand and it arched across the room, red sparks flowing slowly out of its tip, and landed in a filthy stall incredibly far from the pair locked in battle.
Draco kicked his legs straight out, sending Harry soaring into the side of a stall. Harry got immediately to his feet; neither boy considered getting his wand as rage and adrenaline coursed through their veins. The only thought in their minds was pain and inflicting it on the one who tormented them.
They ran at each other blindly, unsure of what they were doing, for they were caught up in such a passion that independent thought was impossible. Their rage provided them with an issue to which there was only one release, although nothing would be solved.
Draco's knees collapsed from under him, and he fell to the ground, his limbs straight and graceful next to his body. His eyes were blank, mirroring Harry's own as he rushed at Draco and collapsed on top of him. He was straddling the boy now, his knees on either side of Draco's lower abdomen. He punched him once, and stopped suddenly. A heavy silence fell between them; neither boy made a move. Harry's fist rose once more, but he stopped and let it fall to his side. Blood was beginning to pour from a cut next to Draco's eye, trickling gently down his pale, smooth skin in a thick line. Harry's finger brushed it aside gently, and followed the flow of Draco's pale face until it rested at the corner of his mouth. Draco's breathing was coming in ragged gasps, and the air pulsated: thick, humming, its velvety folds laden with tension.
Without thinking, Harry bent down and kissed him. He could feel the shock register in Draco's quickening heartbeat, but he sensed no protest as Draco opened his mouth voraciously, taking in his tongue and brushing it with his own.
The snow continued to drift past the windows, and the ivory dancers sighed and twirled sluggishly past, suspended in the inky night sky, to catch a glimpse of the most beautiful act of humanity transpiring among the rubble of the most harmful.
Harry's fingers laced their way into Draco's fine hair, and Draco was pressing his arms feverishly into Harry's back, holding him so tightly he could barely breathe. Their minds were blank, and they lay on the filthy bathroom floor as time ceased to pass and the moment created a fragile orb around them. As the other students of Hogwarts studied and laughed and lounged in the orange glow of the firelight, two enemies suspended in the rapid currents of time, laying in each other's arms: sated on their passion, replete with ultimate bliss.
And so the passion of fury gave way to the fury of passion.