Fifty-nine

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Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

"Goddammit Malfoy! Stop!"

Draco smirked lightly, turning away from the window.

"Stop what?" His leg swung again, connecting with the wall of the window-seat.

Thunk.

"That!" He brandished a soapy rag angrily. Draco gave him as much consideration as the implied threat deserved - none. His perfectly chiseled features turned to gaze out the window again, but the grace in the movement was lost on Harry, who had thrust his hand into the bucket of scalding hot water once again.

"You could help, you know." The mask of absolute control didn't waver, not even by a flicker of the eyes towards him. Snorting in disgust, Harry set to work scrubbing the stone floor.

Thunk.

Thoroughly irritated, Harry clenched his hands into fists. Water streamed from the rag in his hand, forming a soapy puddle underneath his knees. He couldn't care less.

"Malfoy. I'm warning you..."

Thunk.

The blonde-haired boy waited for an outpouring of words, during which he could insert a carefully placed snide comment or two and infuriate Potter even more. He was waiting for a verbal outburst; what he got was a wet rag plastered to the side of his head. His eyes flashed as he turned to face Harry, the mask hardly masking his fury. Harry was equally angry, if not more so, and he glared defiantly at Draco.

"You're going to regret that, Potter." He fairly spat the words as he flung the offending piece of cloth to the side and lunged at Harry.

Harry sure regretted having stood up to throw the rag in the split second when Draco crashed into him and his feet slipped on the wet floor. Harry came crashing down with Draco on top of him, and their faces collided violently.

"Ow! Dammit, Potter!" Draco pushed himself off of Harry, clutching his nose and swearing colorfully. Blood seeped through his fingers, but Harry wasn't faring much better. He'd bitten his lip, resulting in a split that bled almost as much as Draco's nose.

"This is all your bloody fault." Draco glared at Harry with more than the usual animosity, but it was somewhat diminished by the blood trickling down his face and dripping off his chin. Harry himself was sitting in astonished disbelief. He hadn't just decided to blame Harry for all of this crap, had he? Not even Malfoy could be that stupid.

"If you hadn't spilled the water, we wouldn't have slipped."

Harry counted to ten. And counted to ten again. He would not let Malfoy goad him, he would not respond, he would not...

"Rest assured, my father will be hearing about this."

"Dammit, you arrogant creep! This is as much your fault as mine!" Harry exploded, his famous temper getting the better of him.

"My fault? You threw the rag." Draco was visibly struggling to keep his voice and expression under control, as angry as if he really hadn't had anything to do with it. Disbelief was almost tangible as it hung in the air, all of it exuded by Harry.

"You know what, Malfoy? Bite me."

Neither was ever sure why it happened. Draco blamed it on a temporary regression into early childhood caused by the impact of the fall. But the fact was...

He really did bite him. Hard.

"Bloody hell! What do you think you're doing?" Harry clutched his arm furiously, pulling it close to his chest as Draco sat back with a decidedly self-satisfied smile on his face. And then realization struck like a lightning bolt.

"Oh my God. Your mouth... touched... Oh my GOD!" Within seconds, Harry was kneeling next to the bucket of water, cleaning brush in hand. He began scrubbing at his arm with all the strength he could muster while Draco laughed silently.

Five minutes later, it wasn't quite so amusing. Harry was still mauling his arm with a horrified fervor, and the skin underneath the brush was beginning to look like it had been shoved into a blender.

"Potter..." Draco began, a little queasy now that he thought he could see blood in the water.

"That's so disgusting!" Harry wailed, though his hand wasn't moving quite as fast nor pressing quite as hard.

"It's no reason to attempt suicide with a scrubbing brush, for heaven's sake!" Draco spat, snatching Harry's wrist as he made to rinse the brush off and begin again. The unexpected touch seemed to bring him out of a self-induced stupor.

"Let me... damn! It hurts!"

"What did you expect?" Though in truth, Draco himself was feeling more than just a little queasy. His earlier analogy hadn't been quite right - the arm looked more like it had been in a meat grinder rather than a blender.

"Well don't just sit there! Go get Pomfrey or someone." Harry ordered, somewhat hysterical. Draco bristled. Nobody told him what to do... though he'd really rather be anywhere but with Potter and his bleeding arm.

"Don't expect this to happen again," he warned as he stood to leave. Harry nodded silently, trying to blink back tears as Draco ran out of the classroom.

I am never, ever doing detention with him again!