Despite the fact that the sun was only now beginning to peak over the horizon Dangerous was already wide awake and, in fact, climbing the stairs back up to the Ravenclaw tower after his morning run. Rubbing his hands together rapidly in an attempt to build up enough warmth to have them feeling less like blocks of ice and more like hands, having taken the stairs at a jog he was still breathless and red-cheeked when he reached the Ravenclaw doorknocker.

He didn't linger in the common room longer than it took to shake Belby, who had fallen asleep over a desk, awake and push him in the direction of the dormitories with very clear instructions. Retreating into his own dormitory he took enough care to keep his movements as quiet as possible, knowing well enough that most of his dormmates would not be too pleased to be woken at the crack of dawn. Peeling off the trackpants and shirt he had worn jogging, he changed into his quidditch gear as swiftly and deftly as possible.

Leaving most of what was needed in the common room, he knew better than to head to the pitch just yet. Climbing the stairs to the boys dormitories again, this time it was the sixth years' that he slipped into, passing Belby on the way. Not surprised at all that Bagman wasn't showing any signs of life, he wasted no time in shaking the younger male - and not too gently, either. "Oi, up!"

Never much for waking up earlier than half ten if he could help it, Otis was still fast asleep when the older boy huffed and puffed his way into the room. Warm under his blankets, curled ridiculously on his side and snoring with his mouth agape, he seemed tremendously surprised to be shaken awake. Unused to people having the nerve to do such things, least of all people that could not take a punch, he let one swing, almost immediately upon waking. Connecting with Dai's shoulder at about half-force (but still not very gently either), limbs heavy and uncooperative as they were, he wrenched away afterward and turned his face back toward his pillow.

Even as he realized that he had a date at the pitch (or else Dangerous wouldn't be assaulting him at the crack of dawn), he was hesitant to leave his warm little nest. "The fuck away from me!" he grunted, though most of the force was washed out by the thick and sleepy quality of his tone. In fact, he was nearly back to sleep only moments later, holding stubbornly onto his pillow and keeping his eyes shut.

Though perhaps he ought to have, he hadn't given any thought to the repercussions of trying his hand at shaking his seeker awake; and even if he had, it wasn't likely that they would have deterred him in the slightest. Not even bothering to dodge Bagman's swing he took it with a muffled 'Oof!' and two steps back - really, it was to be expected. Recovering a second later, a slight but determined grin on his face now, he reacted by shaking him a second time and more violently as he stubbornly clung to his pillow.

"Oi, up!" he repeated, still at a half-whisper not particularly wanting to rouse the whole dormitory, just Bagman (though he would be lying not to admit that the temptation to get Zonko up and onto the pitch was there, resignation or no), but with more force. He wasn't expecting a miracle then and there, but they would not be walking onto the pitch late.

Though he might have been satisfied to see him step back after being hit, he was very nearly sleeping again by the time his hand was back down, despite any lingering soreness from the half-assed punch. Ignoring him proved quite impossible though, and Otis couldn't help another hit, this one from the elbow and aimed lower, toward his stomach. "God damn it, Dai!" he complained loudly, sounding infuriated despite his sleepy state. Apparently lacking any concern for letting his classmates sleep in, he also ignored the quiet stirring and absent complaints from his left - or he did until he realized where they were coming from. "You can fuck off too, Zonko!"

If getting Bagman onto the pitch meant copping a few hits in the process, then so be it. Again too busy shaking the other boy to really avoid the hit (and also because he didn't see it until it was too late, anyway) he clenched his stomach at the last possible moment before having an elbow driven into it. Losing most of his grin, if only because his determination was truly kicking in, he stopped his shaking. Lifting his hands in a momentary surrender, even despite the fact that Otis' wasn't looking, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine, you called it!" and after a moment of apparent defeat he changed tactic. Instead of returning to shaking him violently he moved to the bottom of the bed and seized his feet, wrapping his arms around his legs and giving one all mighty heave.

Relieved and indeed not thinking much of the consequences of Dangerous actually giving up on him, he relaxed very slightly. This, it turned out, was a terrible mistake - it was only a few moments later that he felt hands on his ankles, and found the other's grip too strong to even free himself and aim a decent kick at him. The result was a pathetically thrashing Otis, slight in build and still half-asleep. "The fuck! Get y'hands offa me!" he complained, even as he crashed to the floor, handfuls of blanket coming down over him and side sore from where he'd smacked onto the cold floor. Following that, he continued to speak, though hoarsely and rather unintelligibly; the most easily understood of it was swearing, predictably.

Had the circumstances been any different the advantage that he had would have been quite unfair, really; but had the circumstances been any different he wouldn't have had a reason to be dragging Otis out of bed to begin with. So. Being wide awake, there really wasn't much of a battle as he dragged the younger boy from his bed. He could have been a tad gentler - but his stomach was still smarting somewhat and, anyway, Otis was a big boy and he could handle it. Releasing his legs as he dropped to the floor, somehow his smirk had found its way back to his face. For a moment he stood over the younger boy, considering his next move, and deciding to give him a chance to stand on his own.

"Come on, up! Dressed!" despite the kerfuffle that he had just made he still kept his voice at a rather pointless half-whisper, glancing at his watch, "You're very nearly late, Bagman. Get a move on!"

More than able to handle it, Otis was no more prepared to do so without complaint for it. "The hell is wrong with you," he mumbled, though he knew - and had known for a long time. Dangerous was unquestionably insane when it came to Quidditch, and while he was not nearly as competitive, there was a grudging sort of respect for him. Of course, that respect was presently hiding behind a whole lot of grogginess and agitation, and so he didn't immediately move. It was a short time later, rubbing his side, that he shifted to sit up partially and rubbed his face furiously. "Full uniform?" he yawned, slouching back most of the way again and sighing, somehow still sleepy after being forcefully dragged out of his bed.

Dangerous didn't even bother to address his first question, if you could call it that. Although he was aware that not everybody in the school - not even everybody on his own team - was quite so passionate about Quidditch as he was, it was a damn shame. Passionate may not have been quite the right word. Consumed. Fanatical. Call it what you will, he saw no reason why the rest of his team shouldn't be as wide-eyed and ready as he was for an early morning training. What better way was there to start off the day? None, surely.

Still standing over Otis, ready to step in again if need be, he waited for any real signs of action. Conceding that he was about as likely to get any quicker movement out of his seeker as he was to be plucked out of a faceless sea of hopeful try-outs and named Captain for the Catapults his first year out of school, he shifted impatiently between his feet. "Yep - so get a move on. You going to get up or do I have to make you?" it wasn't really a threat, but he was ready to haul him up if he didn't get a move on and soon.

Though he had been about to get up and change (or at least he told himself he had been), the other's comment left him lying uselessly on the floor still. Stubborn and contrary to his core, he could only offer his captain an ill-tempered glare over his shoulder, despite liking him rather well. "Better not touch me again," he replied, voice still raised perhaps a bit too much, regardless of Zonko's previous bitching. "Box your fuckin' ear. Ya hear me?"

"Better get up then, don't you think?" his eyebrows raised, almost as though challenging Otis to do exactly that; but really the whole situation had become quite routine, and he was no more afraid of his seeker than he was any other member of his team. It hardly mattered that he did not have a whole lot of sense in that department, because quite frankly imagining a situation where he might have a genuine reason to be afraid of Otis seemed quite absurd. Despite his better instincts, he couldn't help but push it one step further - but there wasn't any viciousness to his voice, instead it was more taunting than anything, his humour breaking through and with it a very lop-sided grin.

"You're not going to be able to box it from down there."