He wanted to fight with his fists - punching him in his gut, his arms, his face. He wanted to use his teeth, his nails; every nasty bit of fighting he never really let himself get lost in. He wanted the world to disappear in that moment, the buzzing in his ears almost like a crashing crescendo, his vision only focused on Draco, only focused on hurting him.
So when Draco had suddenly surged forward, his hands on Harry’s side and his lips against his - Harry delivered.
He scratched his nails against Draco’s skull, pulling on his hair so hard it must hurt, he bit Draco’s lip until the other boy was moaning and whimpering against him, his body shaking and falling down against his own. He grabbed and pulled and pushed against every bit of Draco’s skin he could find - dragging his nails under Draco’s shirt, clutching Draco’s arse to get him to be closer, closer, closer -
Harry wanted to fight Draco.
It was just better at moments like this, when Draco fought back.
They turned, caught up in another dance, and then he had her up against the frost-laced wall. Her breath hitched, and her nails dug into his skull. She sank her teeth into his bottom lip, drawing blood, and gave a wicked laugh, and still he kissed her. Not out of desperation or hope or for luck, but simply because he wanted to. Saints, he wanted to. He kissed her until the cold night fell away and his whole body sang with heat. He kissed her until the fire burned up the panic and the anger and the weight in his chest, until he could breathe again, and until they were both breathless.
And when they broke free, he could feel her smile on his lips.
Graffiti artist Greg Suits (aka Suitswon) completely nailed the placement of this skull mural in New York’s Greenpoint neighborhood, the giant holes work perfectly as enormous eye sockets. Photos here provided courtesy Raphael Gonzalez.