Before Draco could say another word, Weasley lunged forward and hit him. Hard. Draco stifled any defensive reaction – just made a pained grunt as his nose erupted into a mass of hot pain on his face, and started trickling blood. He couldn't blame Weasley, couldn't fight back, he told himself, choking on the pain and the instinctive need to hit back, to lash out in return. He couldn't. He'd felt like doing the same damned thing to Pansy for just repeating the words; he couldn't blame Weasley for smacking him one.