Legal Disclaimer: I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use here may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.

Warning: This work may be offensive to some readers. Feel free to back out if that's you.

Author's Note: As someone with synesthesia and hyperesthesia, I really like stories where someone has senses that work a bit differently than the "norm". I really like when that's not always something helpful. Oh, and just a head's up going into this, there's a few minor moments where being raised by the Dursleys shine though. It's nothing bigger than what's present in canon, but it's there, so head's up.

Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Houses Competition (Term 4); Hogwarts (Term 10); MC4A
Individual Challenges: Gryffindor MC (N); Slytherin MC (N); In a Flash (N); Yellow Ribbon (N); Yellow Ribbon Redux (N); Ethnic & Present (N); Sett to Destroy (N)
House: Hufflepuff
Role: Player (7th Year)
Category: Drabble
Prompt: Headache (Illness)
Hogwarts Challenges: 365 Prompts; The Insane Prompt Challenge
Hogwarts Prompt Information: Benevolent (365); Woozy – unsteady, dizzy, or dazed (Insane Prompt)
Space Address (Prompt): 2C (Warmth)
Representation(s): BC Use; Harry Potter; Heroic Shadow (Harry/Blaise)
Bonus Challenges: Persistent Still
Tertiary Bonus Challenges: n/a
Word Count: 945

(^^)
Gentle Hands
(^^)

Harry loved Hogwarts. He truly did. It certainly beat being at the Dursleys' anytime. Yeah, he had to deal with a whole different set of issues while at the school, but overall, being constantly watched and having people actively trying to maim and/or kill him was a relatively small tradeoff for being around magic.

That was a bigger deal than Harry had ever told anyone. He had noticed fairly quickly, even as overwhelmed as he had been at the time, that others didn't seem to experience magic to the same degree that he did. He couldn't imagine not being able to feel magic like he did, but apparently that was something that was less common than even Parseltongue.

Normally, the way magic reacted so strongly to him benefited him. In places where magic was thick (like Hogwarts), it behaved like a protective cat, rubbing against him for both affection and attention. It added strength to his spells to the point that he had to consciously focus on the strength he desired or risk standing out even more than he did simply by being the Boy-Who-Lived.

But learning Occlumency under Snape meant that having reactive magic was torturous. Snape didn't care about mitigating the force he used behind his spell, and even as protective as Harry's magic was, it didn't understand why it couldn't lash out against his attacker. Between Snape's hostility and trying to keep his magic under control, each lesson ended in a splitting headache every single time.

This time was no different.

Snape released him well after curfew. He didn't offer Harry a note in case he ran into another professor or Filch. Harry knew better than to ask. Not only would it have been a waste of time (because Snape wouldn't have agreed), but Harry was already seeing colored spots from the pain pounding in his skull. Only experience at working through pain got him back into the vicinity of Gryffindor territory before the headache made the world unsteady enough that Harry had to stop moving.

Knowing that the woozy feeling wasn't going to pass any time soon, Harry lowered himself carefully to the ground, bracing against the wall to control the fall. A part of him was relieved that he didn't have to worry about Hermione waiting up for him like she used to do after his detentions with Umbridge. She trusted Snape despite how the man was a known bully. The dissonance of Hermione's logic made Harry's head hurt sometimes, and now it was just nauseous.

Thankfully, Harry had eaten lightly at dinner or else his stomach probably would have already rebelled. The stone wall felt refreshingly cool under his forehead. Maybe he could just sleep kneeling here in the corridor. What was the chances of someone (Filch) finding him? Yeah, probably best to just rest a bit before making another go at getting back to Gryffindor.

"Potter," someone said softly. Harry groaned as the magic woven through the voice jabbed at his senses. He felt the person shift closer to touch him and couldn't stop himself from pressing against the wall to avoid it. Hogwarts' ambient magic curled around him, bristling protectively. Whoever it was started making soothing noises as they ran their hands over the space a foot away from Harry, almost as if they were petting the magic instead of Harry.

Except the only other person that Harry had ever met who could feel magic like that was Luna, and this person definitely didn't feel like the Ravenclaw.

Harry forced his eyes open, meeting the person's eyes. The dark depths seemed strangely comforting even without fully recognizing who it was through the daze that accompanied the pounding headache. The dark-skinned boy reached for him again, taking care to make sure that Harry could see the movement. Both Harry and the magic still wrapped around him allowed the boy to shift him into a more comfortable position against the wall. His hands lingered on Harry's arms afterwards, rubbing them with the same petting motion he had used earlier to soothe the magic.

It was…nice to have someone touching him like that. Harry had never really experienced it. Back in Little Whinging, no one wanted to touch the freak if they could avoid it. Here at Hogwarts, touching just to touch didn't seem like something people did, not even the couples Harry had noted. It felt almost overwhelming now that he was experiencing it despite how he would have traded anything for the boy to never stop. Harry's eyes slid shut against the threatening tears.

"May I move you somewhere more comfortable, Potter?"

Magic still laced the boy's voice, but beyond a dull throb, his senses didn't react this time. Harry nodded carefully. He didn't like the idea of moving more than he already had, but he did know that he couldn't stay here. The corridor was too unprotected, left him too vulnerable. If someone less benevolent than this boy found him, Harry wasn't in any condition to defend himself. Harry just dreaded the idea of walking anywhere, even with assistance, while woozy from the headache entrenched behind his ears.

Harry wasn't expecting the boy to pick him up as if Harry weighed nothing and without either a grunt of effort or the distinctive wash of assisting spellwork. The transition was smooth enough that Harry didn't startle, even as he was carried off to some unknown location by someone he vaguely remembered as the last person sorted in his year.

He should be worried about that.

He really should be.

Instead, Harry let the warmth of being held like this lull him into the sweet oblivion of sleep.