Hit the Floor

Disclaimer: *whistles innocently* Harry and Draco who? I don't know a Harry and Draco, and I most certainly do not own anyone by those names.

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Chapter Six - Strange Happenings


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Harry was in a bad mood.


He'd spent the entire previous night sitting on his bed thinking. He was tired, and more than a little cranky. At the moment, he was verging on angry. He'd been fine until he'd holed up with two Slytherins. He'd been in control of his emotions, he'd known what he would have to do to defeat Voldemort, and he'd been ready for it. Compared to his 'instructors' he was as emotionally mature as a three year old throwing a tantrum. Now, he didn't know how much he would have to delve into the Dark Arts in order to even stay alive during a battle, let alone what he'd need to learn to actually dispose of Voldemort. Worst of all, now he knew he was nowhere near ready. For any of it.


Snape had informed him that his new 'anger management' classes would replace all classes, other than wandless magic and Dark Arts training, until he was able to control himself. Snape had decided that Draco woulsistsist him in helping Harry with his little problem.


Lucky for him, wandless magic was first.


It seemed Draco was in a particularly ruthless mood. Some would be surprised that it wasn't his normal disposition, but on a normal day, although by no means lenient, he certainly didn't go out of his way to drive Harry into the ground.


Today, however, Draco seemed intent on revenge for all the pain Harry had caused yesterday. For the first time ever, Harry was afraid of the Slytherin. He threw curses Harry hadn't even mastered with a wand, let alone without. They were Dark curses that Harry couldn't use without doubling over in pain, but Draco cast them without so much as a blink. The pace of the duel was stunning, and Harry had long ago given up any attempt at returning fire. It was all he could do to keep up his shield.


After a hit from a particularly nasty stinging hex, Harry decided enough was enough.


"What the fuck is your problem, Malfoy?" he shouted. He could barely breath, and sweat poured down his face. When Harry faced Voldemort the last time, he hadn't felt this physically taxed.


Draco looked at him with the blank expression Harry was beginning to hate. He was jealous of it; he wanted it fomselmself. It represented a cool maturity that he did not possess, and to see it on Draco was like a slap in the face. He tried desperately to reign in his spiraling temper.


"Calm down, Potter."


That incensed Harry even more, and the tenuous grip he had on his emotions diminished further. "It's not my fault that I didn't grow up learning that shit, Malfoy!"


Draco's eyes narrowed, but other than that, his expression remained the same. "It's not my fault, either. Grow the fuck up, Potter. The world does not revolve around you," he said, his voice as cool as his expression.


For some reason Harry couldn't put his finger on, the statement pushed him over the edge. He lunged at Draco, tackled him around the waist, and pinned him on the floor. Harry proceeded to punch, swing, and fight like an animal. He felt wild, out of control, and he liked it.


Draco finally landed a punch back, hard, right on Harry's jaw. Harry froze. A punch to the face was not supposed to feel like that. It was sparks that blew across his skin, little explosions of pure feeling. It didn't feel like…well, pain. His face tingled, and not in a bad way. Harry drew in a sharp breath, and didn't dare meet Draco's eyes.


"Get. Off," Draco said, in that same emotionless voice.


Harry did. Then he ran.


--


Snape stormed into the bedroom.


"Well done on controlling your temper, Potter. Starting a fight is exactly what you need to do, in order to close off your emotions. Well done," Snape sneered.


Harry looked at the floor. "I know, sir."


"You keep saying that, Potter."


Harry glanced up briefly before he returned to gazing at his feet. "I just don't know what to do. I've tried keeping it all in, but it doesn't work! Eventually, it gets to be too much, andxploxplode, and I don't know how to keep that from happening!" Though his voice had started soft, he ended in a shout. His frustration had once again hit breaking point.


Snape looked at him pointedly. "You can't 'keep it all in', Potter. That is never going to work."


"Then what will? You said you'd help me!" Harry was near tears. He was beyond distressed, and completely out of sorts. He felt absolutely helpless. All of his encounters with Voldemort hadn't made him this weak. That moment when Draco had punched him back…it certainly didn't help matters. He couldn't even think about it. Better to pretend it hadn't happened.


Snape sighed. "Come out to the common room." With that, he turned around and left. Harry tried to calm himself before he followed.


--


Snape and Draco were seated at the table, with identical blank expressions on their faces.


"Sit, Potter," Snape said. Harry thought absentmindedly that it was the nicest voice he'd ever used in Harry's presence, let alone directed at him. He sat down, and wrapped his arms around himself in a useless attempt to hold himself together from the outside. He couldn't bring himself to look Snape or Draco in the eye.


"It is of no use to try and pretend your anger isn't there, Potter, because it will not disappeIt rIt requires some type of outlet," he began. "It's the way that your anger is expressed that you can control. Your rage can be turned into anger at the weather, anger at your clothes, anger at the color of the walls. Trivial things."


Harry remembered Draco's complaints about the décor when they'd arrived.


"It can also be turned into pettiness." Draco spoke up for the first time. "It can be turned into snide remarks towards others."


Harry recalled a thought he'd had during Snape's Dark Arts introduction. "I knew you two substituted verbal abuse for other stuff," he muttered.


"Very astute observation, Mr. Potter. Perhaps removing you from your Gryffindor surroundings has in some way, increased your mental abilities," Snape remarked snidely.


Harry glared at him, but kept his mouth shut.


"Oh, good job, Potter, just bottle something else up," Draco snorted.


"What am I supposed to do, then?" Harry asked, through clenched teeth.
"Sa "Say something back! Think something back! Anything but bottling it up," Draco answered, as he leaned forward. Harry looked up at him and noted that he must have performed a healing spell while he'd hid in the bedroom.


"Oh yes, because talking back to Snape has worked so well for me in the past," Harry said, sarcastically.


"There you go!" Draco said, as he waved an arm in front of Harry.


"Look, Malfoy, while that may sound good in theory, how many times have you a had had a go, and walked away more angry then we started? What happens then?" Harry asked. He figured Draco had been using him as an outlet for his anger. Though he wondered what he'd been doing the past few weeks, since they'd been pretty civil to each other.


"Then you go take it out some other way. However, I think you're wrong. Getting into a fight with you gets rid of a lot of built up shit, Potter. It's nothing personal, just something to yell about," Draco said, as he shrugged. "You're always around, and you're easy to provoke."


Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. It sure had seemed personal all these years. He wondered briefly if he had put more thought and emotion into their rivalry than Draco ever had.


"Don't go getting any ideas though, it's not like we're going to become best buddies here. You just aren't as bad as you used to be," Draco added, with narrowed eyes.


"Thanks, Malfoy," Harry scoffed.


"Are the two of you quite done?" Snape asked snidely. "While it is infinitely entertaining to watch the two of you attempt to sort out your differences, neither of you can afford to use each other to release tension now."


Harry did not like the smirk that statement put on Draco's face, but before he could give it much thought, Snape spoke again.


"What Mr. Malfoy said has merit. However, you, Potter, take everything personally. Every look, word, or action is taken as a personal affront with you. You need to begin detaching yourself from the situations you are in," Snape said.


Harry closed his eyes, and hugged himself tighter. "You keep telling me what I have to do, sir. But you haven't yet told me how to go about it."


It was Draco that answered. "You've got to start small. When you're in a situation where it really doesn't matter if you show your anger, control it. It's always best if you can find a way to truly not get angry. If you can't do that, find a way to let it out in insignificant ways," he began. "Try to look on the situation you're in as if you were outside it. As though you are watching a play."


Draco wasn't looking at Harry anymore, he realized. Harry supposed the information was pretty personal. It was, in all actuality, Draco's secret to the collected exterior he was so famous for at Hogwarts.


Snape took over. "If you must express your anger, you need to master the art of subtle ins. I . I know you are able to do so, Mr. Potter, you've shown us that countless times with your altercations with Mr. Malfoy. However, instead of listening to their responses and getting angrier, concentrate on how your words must be affecting them."


While that sounded good in theory, Harry couldn't see how it would work in truly intense situations, and so voiced his doubts.


"Practice makes perfect, Mr. Potter."


--


It was decided Snape would be the one to attempt to provoke Harry in order for him to work on his control. Harry's most sensitive spot was his parents, and Snape had a slew of information to work with. When he was able to control his emotions around Snape and Draco, a boggart would be brought in to test his control around more volatile people, namely Voldemort.


Harry's Occlumency training would also help with his control. The relaxation he did before sleeping also acted as meditation. As his duels with Draco became more intense, they would serve as a tension release as well.


Duels. The thought brought up the memory of the incident that afternoon. Now that he was alone, he allowed himself to think about it. It scared him, he decided. Harry wondered briefly if it meant his Dark Arts usage was getting out of control, but quickly dismissed that idea. Snape was fanatical when it came to questions, both before and after spell casting. If somet wer were wrong, Snape would have caught it. He thought about previous fights he'd had, with Draco and some of the other Slytherins. None of them had produced the same reaction to being hit that this one had.


Draco's exit from the bathroom interrupted Harry's thoughts.


"We need to talk, Potter," Draco said, as he sat on his bed.


Inwardly, Harry groaned. "What about," he asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew.


"This afternoon. I know what happened."


"What do you mean, you know?" Harry d. Hd. How could Draco know when Harry dt knt know himself?


Draco gave him a knowing look. "Remember that talk we had about side effects?"


Harry nodded.


"That's how I know."


"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry was annoyed. Draco was talking in circles and Harry didn't have the patience to deal with it. The day had been too long.


"I told you there were side effects, that your brain would start processing the pain differently. Looks to me like you got your first taste of that this afternoon," Draco said as he looked at Harry, who stared at his feet.


"You're wrong, Malfoy," Harry insisted. What had happened earlier wasn't normal. Harry was perfectly happy to ignore it for as long as he could.


Draco stood, and stalked towards Harry.


"Ignoring this won't make it go away, Potter. It's something you're going to have to deal with, because it's going to be a part of you for the rest of your freakishly lucky life," he said.


"I. . ." Harry started to tell Draco that he was completely off the mark, and it had been a one-time deal, but was interrupted by a searing pain that shot through his scar.


"Potter?"


Harry heard him but couldn't respond. He slid off the bed, onto his knees, and clutched his head. Voldemort was beyond angry. He couldn't remember pain this bad before.


"Potter!"


Draco's voice barely filtered through the haze that had settled over his brain. Harry thought absentmindedly that he probably should try and respon Dra Draco before he went and did something drastic. He also wondered at the fact he was still conscious. He usually passed out before the pain got to anywhere near this level.


"Professor, get in here!" The urgency in Draco's voice reached Harry, even through the fogginess in his head.


That wasn't a good thing. Snape would probably rush in and yell about Occlumency lessons, and visions. Thankfully, the pain was vision free.


Snape rushed into the bedroom clutching his left arm. Right over his Dark Mark.


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