Drarry Oneshots 2

Hurt for the Right Reasons

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Summary: Everything was so cocked up. He just wanted this one thing. He wanted to hurt for the right reasons for once.

Author: lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), traintracks (on ao3)

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The rain came down hard as Harry's broom collided with Malfoy's. Both their hands closed on the struggling Snitch and they rolled, broom tails tangled, plummeting toward the pitch.

Over the gale, if the nearest students in the crowd were using amplifying charms (and probably if they weren't), they'd be able to hear Malfoy's foul mouth and Harry's equally interesting rejoinders. But the words hardly mattered once the first punch was thrown, and nobody could hear Madam Hooch's whistle over the scream of rain, cheers, and booing.

They hit the ground hard, stumbling off their broken brooms. Malfoy was reaching for his wand when Harry tackled him into the mud. The Snitch was long gone as they rolled, punching and kicking.

"I had it, you filthy bastard!" Malfoy yelled when his face was no longer pressed into the muddy ground.

"You had fuck all, Malfoy!"

And then they were tumbling once more, Malfoy's blond hair tipped mud-brown and soaked, Harry's robes torn and hanging.

Madam Hooch gave up the whistling and pulled her wand instead, and the two boys slid abruptly apart through the mud. Neither was content to leave it at that and they scrambled up and ran, slipping, toward one another, colliding and rolling to the ground once more, fists pounding, impacting a jaw, a stomach. Insults flew now rather than Quidditch players, all the rest of whom stood dripping and staring, too drenched and exhausted to cheer on their side.

The game had gone on for three hours. And this was the end result: no Snitch in sight and two Seekers coming to blows. It was surely no surprise that it had come to this. Except that everyone would have expected a proper duel between the two --- not what amounted to nothing more than mud wrestling.

"I'll kill you, Potter!" Malfoy shouted, even though it was his face pressed to the muck, his arm wrenched up behind his back.

"Do it!" Harry countered. His robe was now completely ripped away from his left shoulder, his glasses gone. "Do it, you little ferret!"

And then they rolled some more, until Malfoy was on top, one hand at Harry's throat and the other fumbling for his wand. Harry landed a punch to Malfoy's mouth, and they were off again. Finally Dumbledore's wand threw them apart and kept them that way, though they both fought the force field and rammed at it like mad animals.

"ENOUGH," Dumbledore's voice boomed over the pitch, and all fell silent, even the rain. "This match is hereby postponed until the Seekers have undergone their month-long detentions. Everyone go back to your Houses and dry off before dinner." Then, not amplified, "Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy." The force fields fell away, and they stalked toward the center of the pitch where Dumbledore stood.

The boos from the crowd came from everywhere, every house, and they were all directed at the two of them.

*

Harry scowled as he siphoned the water off the pitch with his wand and then walked over to the bucket they'd been provided where Malfoy already waited, if anything looking surlier than Harry felt, which was almost -- would have been -- funny under different circumstances.

At least the rain had stopped. But now it was dark and getting cold and though they were almost done, it didn't lighten Harry's mood.

"Hurry up," Malfoy grumbled. No 'Potter', certainly no colorful nicknames, although they had each come up with some extremely creative epithets in the heat of the moment, Harry had to admit.