Risk. Betrayal. Tragedy. What was going on?

"This is getting ridiculous," said Hermione disapprovingly. She was holding a damp sponge in one hand and applying it to the corner of Harryś left eye, which had stopped bleeding several minutes ago. "Is it really so important that you two keep pretending you hate each other?"

"Yes," said both Harry and Draco in unison. Then, in unison, they grinned, Draco slightly painfully due to the blue-black bruise rising on one cheekbone.

"I mean, itś gotten to the point where not only will Madam Pomfrey not fix your battle scars, but sheś even forbidden me to do it!" Hermione threw up her hands in despair. "Can´t you at least not hit each other so hard?"

Harry tried to hide his amusement. "Yeah, Malfoy, you´re supposed to pull your punches."

"Me? What about you? You kicked me in the shin!"

"I slipped on the ice and my foot accidentally went into your shin."

"Twice?"

There was a rap on the door, and then it opened, admitting Ronś bright red head. He peered around the broom closet they were using as a temporary infirmary. It wouldn´t do for anyone to see Hermione treating Harry and Dracoś wounds. "Success," he said, slipping inside. "Everyone believed the fight, and they´re all talking about it in hushed tones. That whole 'signing up for the same time for practice´ business worked really well." He jerked his chin at Harry. "You better get back to the pitch though, they´re waiting for you."

"Urgh," said Harry, wincing and touching the edge of his wounded eye.

"You don´t want to captain, Ron, just this once?"

"No," said Ron firmly. "I don´t want them thinking Malfoy did you any serious damage. Besides, the Slytherins are all still lurking around, looking like they want a fight."