For the second time, Erin's back met bark; like the first, the impact drove the breath from him but left him spitting mad.

"I didn't touch him!" Erin snarled, shoulders buckling under the lance of pain that went through him as Dax dug his fingers into the bite wound. He twisted furiously in the other boy's grip, his own hands coming up to tug at the chokehold. "You bloody .... bastard... " That he was suffering a beating for something he didn't even do enraged him. It puzzled him, too. Erin knew he was good at reading people, when he put his mind to it, but surely it wasn't that hard to tell. He'd had to follow Toko for a week to be certain, but it was all there, simply stripped of the glitter and the dress and the heels. His friends - it should be even easier for them to tell -

Of course, Erin had no way of knowing how many Hogwarts boys Yumi had cozied up to in her time. Maybe he was just lucky.

Erin grimaced as Dax's hold tightened, his mind racing as to an escape. Yeah, lucky.  The pain was definitely beginning to outweigh any pleasure he'd had in Yumi's brief, sparkling company.

"Then what happened?" Dax growled, tightening his grip on Erin's throat incredibly for a few moments before he let go, suddenly aware really hurting the smug little idiot wasn't on his agenda at least for now. He transferred his grip back to Erin's hair, twisting it again. "You found something out, didn't you? Something...something private..."

It was the oddest feeling - to get a sharp of hope in the middle of this, to dare to wonder while blood covered his face and matted his hair. Maybe, just maybe, Erin had found out -  but no - not likely. He couldn't think how or why Toko would have confessed anything to a little git like Harper.

"Tell me, Harper! What happened between you two?!" He was back to growling again, teeth bared. "Tell me or I'll actually start hurting you!"

From the neck to the hair, and Erin relaxed a little. The grip hurt, his scalp already sore, but in comparison to everything else it was only a twinge. Since Dax was so intent on talking, Erin could catch his breath. Now if Fayette could only stop pinning him to the tree, that'd really be aces.

Not that Erin couldn't get away; he was already planning his escape. But it would save him a lot of effort.

He laughed, a sharp bite of sound spat into Dax's face. "I wondered why I was the only one doing the punching." His breathing was evening out again; well, he had nothing to do but hang around and pointedly avoid the other boy's questions, it wasn't exactly taxing for him to play a git. It was generous, really, to be given this time to rest. And now that he'd gotten a taste, Erin no longer cared what Dax's strength could do to him. He was fearless. And the faster they got back into the adrenaline-surging fight, the quicker he went back to that place of instinct, reflex, impact and speed, the sooner he'd stop feeling his aching muscles and pounding head.

Erin turned his face away as much as Dax's grip allowed, apparently genuinely and suddenly interested on the surrounding flora. "I told you. I won't tell. You'll have to drag it out of him yourself." He glanced back, his voice lowering to a murmur and dripping with false concern. "But be careful, Fayette, the poor little chap's not as resilient as me. He might break if you treat him so roughly."

He grinned up in Dax's face and then jerked away, giving a sharp hard push at the same time. He wriggled out from under Dax like a fast and dexterous eel, leaving the other boy with a handful of hair that left Erin's scalp on fire with its swift removal. Once freed, he didn't turn to run - too late now, far far too late - but pounced right back into the fray with an almost manic glee. Instead of striking a blow his teeth sank into Dax's arm; finally, revenge.

So Erin wasn't going to talk, and that was a good thing - because after that comment on him having to beat up Toko, Dax wasn't interesting in talking, not anymore. He was seeing red - not metaphorically as well as physically.

Off balance as Erin wrenched away, Dax cried out in pain as Erin sank teeth into his arm; he fell backwards, landing on his elbows in the undergrowth, gasping as the blood on his arm added to his list of wounds. Erin had neglected one thing, however - he'd failed to restrain Dax's free arm.

"Fine. No talking," Dax growled, rolling with Erin - groaning in pain at the wrench of Erin's teeth - and swinging his powerful arm back. Curling his hand into a fist, he slammed the top of Erin's head, at a slight angle - intended to knock his grip loose.

"Ustulo!"[1]

There were no barrel for dispute here, it was plain to see. Two feet approached the two boys who were covered in blood, struggling with each other.

"Unhand each other!" Professor Storm growled, "Infligo!"[2]

Having caught their attention, finally, he wrenched them both apart with his own hands, stepping between them where they'd once been locked together on the ground.
"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, very tempted to aim a kick at the two of them in turn while they were on the floor, but hexing them twice a piece would suffice for now.

1.	Burn Hex
2.	Smack Hex

He'd been right; Dax's fist as it descended was like a blow from a giant. He knocked Erin's teeth right out his arm and jarred the brains nearly out of his skull, which was badly abused by this point. But for Erin, what was a few more braincells? He licked the blood off his lips and grinned through the pain.

The next few minutes was a blur of proper fighting, like he'd been expecting from the beginning. He'd finally gotten Dax angry enough to hit back, and while his bruised body wasn't going to thank him for it later, at least he'd get a measure of oblivion now. They were grappling on the ground and Dax's strength would give him the upper hand, but Erin struck and writhed and bit like a madman to prevent Dax from getting a firm hold. Slick with blood, the both of them; the familiar taste coated his mouth in metal and pounded in his ears. Erin was so focused he didn't notice the professor's approach.

There was a sudden burning sting, all over, like the lash of a wide-tipped whip. The burn hex, he'd felt it before, and though it made his breath hiss from between his breath he only assumed Dax had mastered that bit of wandless magic and didn't let it break his stride. So Landis was good for something after all.

He noticed when Storm cast another hex, though, one that ripped him easily away from Dax. He scrambled to his feet but pulled up at Ignan's intervention; even when their professor stood between them he stared through Ignan like a blind man, scowling and straining with his whole body to return to the fight like a dog at the end of its leash.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The world lost its lovely red tinge. Erin's eyes snapped to Ignan, then away, his scowl growing deeper. The bite on his neck was throbbing in time to the pounding of his head, his scalp was on fire from the hunk of hair it was missing, and he had a whole litany of bruises making their complaints to match his aching limbs. His back ached, scraped raw. Erin was very annoyed to be feeling these things again.

"He thought I was hiding the team barrel under my shirt. Sir."

Dax gasped at the pain and the heavy thud of his slamming into the ground; trying desperately to catch his breath as the professor forced them apart. Unlike Erin he didn't rise to his feet, instead only getting to sitting against the tree and spitting out blood. He had been tempted to lay prone, but thought better of it - if bloody Harper could stand, then...

"Bloody liar," he said, glaring death at Erin. But he answered the professor honestly, like the good Hufflepuff he was.

"Personal dispute got out...out of hand, sir," he said, though his voice cracked a bit; now that the fighting had stopped his body had decided to tell him how much it hurt and he really wished it wasn't. He looked around for his wand, seeing the silver gleam and crawling over to it, picking it up gingerly - his hands didn't want to work.

He started casting small healing spells on his face, closing the wounds.

"Out of hand to say the least, tearing at each other in the dirt like dumb animals." The Professor replied in short, clipped words, still stood between them both.
"I care nothing for why this started, only that it shall not interfere in such a way between you again." Grasping both their arms just above the elbow with a hand each, he forced them to walk forwards with him, maintaining uncomfortable pressure in his grip.

"Common Muggles settle scores with fists and teeth," He continued to scorn, "Wizards do it with wands and wit, which is something that sets us apart. The two of you are no better than trolls - I expected far better from both of you, especially you!" He gripped Dax's arm all the harder, as the seventh year and the responsible one, and leant his way with malice.

"I doubt Healer Nagde will be best pleased to inspect these wounds." Professor Storm continued to urge them on stumbling over tree roots in the direction of the hospital hut. He better report them to their heads of houses, Declan too he supposed.
"You both better propose a very good reason why not to mention this to your Heads of Houses, or Professor Ó Móráin."

"Personal dispute got out...out of hand, sir."

Erin manfully refrained from rolling his eyes or sneering at the little truthteller. By all respects, Erin should be more nervous than he was, faced with an angry Ignan Storm. He'd done well in Storm's classes because he liked the man, been deferential because Storm demanded it. Erin didn't act out, didn't harass other students, held in check by his personal opinion that Professor Storm was a brilliant old badass who would curse the stuffing out of him if he misbehaved. But right now he didn't give a damn about hexes nor the authority of the man; his discontent made him careless, and reckless, and unashamed. He kept quiet, but his posture was hardly one of obedience or respect.

Fayette began to heal the cuts of his face with his wand, which reminded Erin that he ought to find his. He ducked around Storm to retrieve it, walking slow and stiff-legged to its drop site so that the professor wouldn't think he was trying to attack Fayette again. He scooped it up, staring long and intent at Dax at the bottom of the tree before he turned away, just in time for Ignan to take his upper arm and frog-march him away.

Erin started to twist away, startled, angry, but Storm's grip was like iron and it wasn't worth the trouble he'd receive to break it. He subsided into scowling again, stumbling over the occasional tree root as Ignan dragged them on. Each time he did, Storm kept dragging; bored already by this self-righteous appeal to common sense and decency, Erin faltered deliberately just to feel the sudden strength lash through his captor's arm. For an old man, Storm set a grueling pace.

Ignan's words meant nothing to him; Erin had no shame for him to prick with his talk of trolls or muggles. But Erin did listen, for lack of any other choice. So he was taking them to Nagde. She knew Erin well. As for proposing a good reason not to report them to their respective Heads.... Erin's lips stretched in a mirthless grin. He was going to tell them anyways, wasn't he? Did he really expect Erin to beg?

"Tell Landis. He won't be surprised."

Maybe Dax could come up with a goody kiss-up reason not to be reported. Erin grinned over at him, too, on the other side of Ignan; it was not a friendly expression.

Dax let himself be hauled along - like Erin, he was silently shocked at how strong the old man was. Unlike Erin, however, he was actually feeling the sting of Ignan's words. Not truly because he cared that he'd beaten up Erin or this stuff about muggles, but because he'd be getting this lecture yet again - from Dion.

He couldn't think of a good reason not to inform Frasier. "Unless you're bribe-able, sir, no," he said, spitting out more blood. The taste was beginning to get to him and make him ill, mostly because he'd just realized he'd swallowed a tooth.

He scowled at Erin from around the teacher. "Yeah, I bet he's used to it," he grumbled, thinking of Landis.

"Another word out of either of you, and you won't speak for a week." Professor Storm snapped.

With that, the three of them continued on to the hospital hut, Ignan still gripping the arms of both the bloodied boys, already contemplating how he was going to explain to his colleagues what had happened within his class. Couldn't blame him for not being able to keep tabs on all of them.

If only they'd ripped each other to pieces later when he didn't have to stumble upon them.




ends