( 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 ― 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 / 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 )

[THREE | ANGER MANAGEMENT]

HIS SKATES SCRAPED THE ICE, SENDING UP VIOLENT SHOWERS OF SNOW AS HE FORCED HIMSELF TO CALM DOWN. It had been a day Harry's altercation with Draco at pre-game practice, but his anger only seemed to increase as each minute passed. He was zoned out as he skated around but after hearing the dissatisfied grunts and catching glares of his fellow teammates from their unexpected (and unpleasant) mini blizzard, Harry went up to the bleachers and busied himself with his phone.

His plan ultimately failed for he huffed and threw his phone into his bag not even five minutes later, heading into the training room ( this being sure sign he'd just finished up yet another heated argument through text. with who? none of his teammates knew.)

By the time Neville had gotten into the room, he could see that Harry was fully focused on destroying the punching bag. "Harry?"

He didn't respond.

"Harry talk to me." Neville scratched the side of his nose where a silver nose piercing gleamed as he began to gather his words, feeling a bit awkward for this was the first time they'd ever had this sort of talk. 

"I know you're still pissed about Malfoy." He paused, running a hand through his hair, "He didn't have the right to say any of that, I-I know." He dared a glance over, " But now you're taking it out on us. You've never done that before no matter how angry you got." He sighed, noticing the way he tensed upon bringing up the other boy's name, "This is something deeper between you two, isn't it?" 

A grunt, "Maybe."

Neville leaned against the door-frame, a couple of the blond flecks in his dark brown hair falling down from its style as he looked at his friend with pity, "You can't let him get to you this like, Harry."

"I know but--fuck!" Harry screamed out, tears threatening to spill once again as he threw another punch at the bag. "He just irritates me so damn much and all I wanna do his snap his little head off!"

"Harry, would you rather swing at Malfoy and have to watch him from the sidelines because you were thrown out of the game, or would you rather have an up-close view of him right before you slaughter him in the game? Huh?" The taller boy's question was barely heard over the blows into the punching back.

Harry backed up, and proceeded to walk off, only to be shoved back into the wall, "Tell me!"

Harry looked up, his eyes cold. He stared back before shoving roughly past Neville (causing him to stumble a bit) before swinging the door back; the loud echo causing everyone to shut up and look at him in fear. His eyes fell onto the ice in front of him; his voice low as he spoke,

 "Bring me my stick, and round everyone up."

Neville nodded and moved past him, all eyes following him with curiosity.

 "Did you get him back?" Ron asked the moment he got in front of them, looking over his best friend as he hesitantly got up. Neville gave him a look of uncertainty as he picked up Harry's stick, bringing everyone out onto the rink.

Harry took his stick and spun it around as he spoke,

 "Hell yeah, he got him back." 

He abruptly stopped, watching them with an intense gaze; his tone serious, "Now instead of sitting around, how's about we get ourselves ready to play the best damn championship game these townsfolk have  ever seen?"

Ron glanced over at a grinning Neville who held his fist out, 

"Am I good or what?" 

Ron chuckled and bumped back before joining in on the group circled around their captain; their expressions wild as they took in his every word. 

This was going to be, by far, one of the wildest games they've ever played.