"I'll give it a go" said a voice behind him. Susan had seen some people wander outside, and her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She took her wand out of her knee high boot, and held it aloft. "that is, unless you would rather do it."
Draco was rightfully pissed. He hadn't been drunk like this in.. like 4 days!
Hearing the commotion of a Quidditch competition, well...
He was ready.
He had been angrily training since being beaten by that insufferable Potter so many times in school, outflown, outshone. He flew every morning. With anger.
He stumbled on his dragon hide designer shoes and laughed, before straightening up and decidedly following the troupe out the door, hardly noticing who they were, entirely operating on some fanatic, fantasy determination.
His sportcoat was not enough to beat the weather. But he was warm from the copious amounts of the Twins whiskey that was inadvertently in the punch, that he hadn't so much noticed it.
Only in the light of the locker rooms did he notice who he had followed out.
Harry whipped his head around, his glasses fogging under his heavy breath- anything to keep his body warm. He adjusted them with a blink as he realized the blond form walking toward him was Draco Malfoy. He coughed, covering his mouth with his closed fist as the man came further into his sight.
What the fuck.
"Malfoy?"
Harry barked a laugh.
"What are you doing here? Missing have your arse beat?"
George, at this point, felt...well, drunk. Mostly he felt drunk. But he also felt partially responsible for the escalating animosity that was totally harshing the buzz of excitement and mischief that had been building since the small but enthusiastic group of intoxicated rule-breakers had escaped from the Great Hall. After all, the punch had been practically harmless before he and Fred had contributed to it
( ... )
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Hearing the commotion of a Quidditch competition, well...
He was ready.
He had been angrily training since being beaten by that insufferable Potter so many times in school, outflown, outshone.
He flew every morning.
With anger.
He stumbled on his dragon hide designer shoes and laughed, before straightening up and decidedly following the troupe out the door, hardly noticing who they were, entirely operating on some fanatic, fantasy determination.
His sportcoat was not enough to beat the weather.
But he was warm from the copious amounts of the Twins whiskey that was inadvertently in the punch, that he hadn't so much noticed it.
Only in the light of the locker rooms did he notice who he had followed out.
Potter!
''Potter!'' He bit out, not laughing anymore.
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What the fuck.
"Malfoy?"
Harry barked a laugh.
"What are you doing here? Missing have your arse beat?"
There was a dirty joke in there somewhere.
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"You want to talk, Potter?"
He chuckled icicles.
Spoke slowly, now.
This one is important.
"Have at it then. I'm not here for that. I will make a loser of you today,''
His confidence was entirely boozefueled, and it worked for him.
''Potter.''
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