Draco Malfoy spent the morning wrapped in so many layers of I don't give a fuck that even Theo, who never noticed anything, had figured out that something was wrong in Charms. He knew enough not to question, though, and that was fine by Draco.
Lunch was a free period for Draco, and he made a beeline for the Slytherin Common Room. Blaise was in there, laughing with Daphne and making a face at Goyle, who was acting goofy as usual when none of the other houses were looking. Draco Malfoy had his wand in his hand in a second, and he stalked across the room. He knew the look on his own face - it was one that he'd seen often on Potter's - malice and justice harnessed together, the twin black and white horses of The Chariot, card of motion and change.
"Blaise." Draco Malfoy growled.
Blaise turned around, looking lighthearted for just a split second, and then he incanted, "Stupefy," hitting Draco Malfoy square in the chest with it, as the older Slytherin students watched.
"Nothing to see here, folks," Blaise said lightly, "Just an internal underclassmen matter, that we'll settle privately. Greg, help me take him to our room." Blaise acted as if it was not concerning him that the older Slytherins were watching, though in truth it did.
Greg affably helped, knowing without being told that it was a good idea to not let Draco Malfoy go brawling in a crowded Common room.
Inside their shared room, Blaise said simply, "It would probably be better if you left before he wakes up." Greg shrugged, and said simply, "Your funeral."
[a/n: Draco knows better than to start fighting in open corridors with another Slytherin. But he's still a hothead. This was something better settled privately, which he'll figure out when he calms down. If he calms down.
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