Harry was plummeting at the ground. He could see it rushing towards him, eager to meet him again. He clawed at the air, tried a Freezing Charm, but it didn't work. The rushing wind tore the words right out of his mouth.

Something glinted in the sun, caught his eyes. He knew it was a Snitch. He pulled in tight to his broom, dove after it, straight at the ground. When he caught up to it, another pair of hands met his in grasping the golden sphere. Then he tumbled off his broom, heading for the grassy pitch...

...and landed on the trapdoor in the Forbidden Corridor on the third floor. He rolled and fell through. He was falling again. He could see the Devil's Snare writhing beneath him, reaching for him.

He prepared to hit the mass of vines and found himself falling backwards towards a bed. A pair of arms stretched out in front of him, as though they had just shoved him. His back hit the plush quilt on top of the soft mattress. He looked up to see who had pushed him and—

—woke up. This time, the dream was fresh in his mind and Harry hastened to record it in his journal. When he finished, he glanced out the window and saw that it was still in the pre-dawn hours. He slumped back under his covers and went back to sleep.

The second time Harry woke up that morning, it was from a dreamless sleep. He felt a gentle nudging and opened his eyes to find a ginger blur hovering over him.

"Good morning, Harry," Ron said.

Harry snagged his glasses from the nightstand. "Morning."

"How are you feeling today? Hermione said I should come up and check on you. She worries more about you now, you know, since the accident."

Ron sat down on the edge of the bed and Harry looked at him. His face was earnest and caring. Harry took a moment to take inventory of his emotions.

"I'm feeling okay, I think," he said.

"Great," Ron said. "Where did you go when you ran out of Flitwick's class, then? You looked pretty... shaken."

"I..."

And then the memories hit Harry like a Bludger. They all crashed into him at once, leaving him reeling. The almost-memory. The naked Draco Malfoy.

The kiss.

Harry collapsed into his pillow and twisted his face into a grimace, leaving his eyes squeezed shut. Through a clenched jaw, he groaned, "Oh god. Oh god."

"What?" came Ron's alarmed voice.

"No. Nonono."

Ron's hand came to rest tentatively on Harry's leg. "Harry?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

A sigh. "Come on, Harry. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to bother you that much yesterday.

Harry realized this was true. Why, though? How could he have possibly so calmly accepted kissing—oh god oh god—Draco Malfoy?

"Um."

"Ye-es?"

Harry shoved the words out of his mouth, snapping it shut afterwards as though he could pretend they never happened. "IkissedMalfoy."

"Huh."

Slowly, Harry peeked out from one tightly closed eyelid. Ron was looking at him steadily, but he showed no signs of alarm or worry.

"Huh? What does that mean?"

Ron shook his head. "I just didn't think it would—that is... Well. Did you kiss him or did he kiss you?"

Harry was confused by Ron's behavior and upset by his memories of yesterday. This led him to be more than a little irritated.

"He kissed me," he snapped. "Why?"

Ron ignored the question and posed one of his own. "Where were you?"

"The Quidditch pitch."

"What, and he just sort of flew up to you and started snogging you?"

"No, don't be stupid," Harry said. "We were in the showers."

"Ah," Ron said, and Harry could just hear the smirk in his voice.

"Why are you being so bloody irritating?" Harry asked.

"Why were you kissing Malfoy?"

Harry let out a long sigh and gritted his teeth. "Look, I don't remember, okay? And in case you're having memory problems of your own, that's been happening to me a lot lately. I would appreciate it if I had supportive friends."

"Ah... I'm sorry, mate. I just—I want you to remember, but I don't know how to help you. Pomfrey and McGonagall say we can't just tell you, 'cause of the nature of the things you forgot."

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the canopy of his bed for a minute. He thought about the kiss and found his fingers had made their way to his lips, feeling them, caressing them. The kiss that hadn't seemed totally wrong to him. He could remember that at least, though he couldn't recall the sensation. He sat up and looked at Ron.

"Help me, then. Give me a hint. Something."

A hint of the smirk returned, tinged with something else. Sadness.

"It's not the first time you've kissed."

The words rang hollow in Harry's ears, fake and cacophonous. His temper, momentarily subdued, flared up again.

"Fuck off, Ron. I thought you wanted to help me."

"Harr—"

"No, shut up. Get out."

As the words left his tongue, he felt razor-sharp pain flash behind his eyes. The room went blurry and he clapped his hands to his temples.

"Harry?"

"Get out!" Harry said, ripping off his glasses. The pain throbbed and pressed against his eyeballs. He screwed his eyes shut and waited for the ache to pass. Instead, he heard footsteps approaching him. His eyes flew open and he saw Ron reaching out to him.

In an instant, Harry snatched his wand from the nightstand and aimed it at Ron.

Levicorpus!

Ron's face was a mask of shock as his feet were knocked out from under him. He came to a rest with his ankles near the ceiling, his clothes falling down to partially obscure his features.

"Mobilicorpus!" Harry said, flicking his wand toward the door. Ron went soaring out of the room. Harry dropped the hex and set the strongest locking charm he knew on the door. Still, his head was a ball of pain. It threatened to overwhelm him.

Jumping out of bed and ignoring the pounding on the door, he threw on a heavy cloak and shoes. He took his broomstick in hand, pocketed his glasses, and looked for a way out. Through his wavy vision he saw nothing. Without hesitation, he spun toward the window and threw a Reductor curse at it. He jumped.