[Harry starts to look madder. He isn't the kind of boy who turns purple or red when he gets mad; he stays white, his lips getting whiter and eyes flashing. If Draco has spent any amount of time around Lily aboard the Tranquility and its sundry horrors, that will look familiar. There is nothing subtle about the downward dig of his eyes at the other wizard's wrist.
There's no mistaking that for a funny rash or any other choice of mark. There's no mistaking how dark it is, either, and maybe that as much as any other mess of hormones and confusion and misplaced conviction cocktail up to charge Harry's next move. Which is to hitch Crookshanks up his chest, and sling the cat at Draco's head, the creature opening his claws to find traction on Harry's arms much too late. Mid-air Crookshanks lets off a screech of dismay.
And naked Harry Potter comes scrambling at Draco too, his damp hands grasping desperately -- and carefully!! -- for his wand.]
no subject
There's no mistaking that for a funny rash or any other choice of mark. There's no mistaking how dark it is, either, and maybe that as much as any other mess of hormones and confusion and misplaced conviction cocktail up to charge Harry's next move. Which is to hitch Crookshanks up his chest, and sling the cat at Draco's head, the creature opening his claws to find traction on Harry's arms much too late. Mid-air Crookshanks lets off a screech of dismay.
And naked Harry Potter comes scrambling at Draco too, his damp hands grasping desperately -- and carefully!! -- for his wand.]