Harry laughs, surprised and delighted by his embarrassment, and in the same moment stuffs two fingers unceremoniously back into Malfoy’s arse. Malfoy lets out a punched-out breath and drops his head back. The long column of his neck sparks thoughts of leaving his mark on Malfoy, marks that would be visible over his jersey, just under where his chinstrap would hit. The mark on his jaw, red and bright, could be easily explained away – everybody saw that check, everybody saw Harry’s fists flying, but this one – it would be obvious to his teammates tomorrow in the locker room, on the grainy camera filming his next game.