By the next morning, both of us were able to move and walk ALMOST normally.  We sounded like fools when we tried to speak, slurring and stumbling across our words and ending up almost unintelligible, but we could at least do THAT and not just gargle.  But the mental link hadn't faded at all. 

You never really notice how nice it is to have at least your own HEAD private from everyone until you lose the capability.

Malfoy and I made it through the evening and night, obviously, though by the time we went to sleep we were both fairly snappish and then our dreams were curiously tangled.  It's very strange to be two in a dream, and even more so to be both yourself and someone else in two different dreams at the same time.  Very...confusing.  To say the least.

We sniggered through trying to get dressed and going to the restroom, sometimes laughing at ourselves, sometimes laughing at the other, sometimes laughing at the whole damned situation.  It was actually sort of fun, though still incredibly frustrating.

But neither of us dared to mention to the other the fear that wound through both our minds—what if this telepathy thing didn't go away?

Madam Pomfrey didn't seem to have any serious concerns along those lines;  she was immensely pleased that we were regaining control of our bodies, and expected that we would continue to improve.  If we did,  she'd let us go back to our dormitories that evening instead of staying another night in the Hospital Ward.   That hope was a great relief;  I hate sleeping in strange beds, and I missed the hangings 'round my bed in the dorm room.  Really, it all came down to PRIVACY!  And here I had none.  Malfoy was equally relieved.  I suspected that he was alone far more than I'd imagined;  I got the feeling that he really didn't like being around any of the other Slytherins, or anyone else, actually.  I suspected that his alliance with Crabbe and Goyle was more because the roles were a family tradition than because he truly liked their company.  And perhaps a bit practical, as well, if he was going to go about being as much of an ass as he had been with his small frame.  The frail have two options:  avoid confrontation whenever possible, or acquire protectors.  There was no question Malfoy'd be in for trouble if it ever came to a real physical fight.  He was just too fragile and small.

I found it difficult, after the whole day and night of being locked into thinking at each other, to keep calling him Malfoy.  Draco kept sliding into my thoughts, unasked for and unwanted.   I fought to keep from revealing this change to him.

Although the link hadn't truly faded overnight like the physical effects had, by the next morning we'd both gained a bit of isolation in our skulls;  unless I was thinking something very strongly, or was completely immersed in what I was doing, I could keep most of what I thought to myself unless I meant him to hear, and likewise.  Mostly what we conveyed mentally was intentional.  I thanked all the gods that may be for this.  

For some reason it didn't occur to us to stop conversing mentally and switch to real speech, even halfway through the day when we were both intelligible.  Speaking mind-to-mind seemed far easier and more natural than bothering to speak out loud by this point.  And we'd achieved a level of camaraderie that I'd never imagined possible.  We spent most of the day laughing together, in fact.  It was...nice.  Fun.  Despite the situation.

Finally that evening Madam Pomfrey agreed to let us go back to our respective commonrooms, though we weren't entirely steady on our feet and our speech was still a bit slurred.  We were to report back to her if we experienced any regression at all.  I for one fervently agreed that if I felt myself regressing, I'd be in the Hospital Wing immediately, making as much noise about it as possible.  Moving and speaking was infinitely precious to me now that I'd lost it for a bit. 

We stumbled through the corridors, occasionally catching our balance by leaning on the walls or each other.  I noticed that I didn't actually mind touching and being touched by Draco.  It was disconcerting.  I wasn't sure whether it was because we'd reached a tenuous friendship, or some lingering effect of the potion.  I carefully did NOT think about it too loudly;  I'd made enough of a fool of myself yesterday.

At last we reached the Entrance Hall.  We'd missed dinner completely, and everyone had left for their dormitories long before.  Our shuffling and irregular footsteps echoed emptily in the vast stone chambers. 

"Well,  here we are, I suppose," I said, feeling like a stupid prat. 

"Er...yes, so we are," Draco agreed.

We stared at our feet for a bit.

"So—"

"Well—"

We stopped again.

:I guess I'll see you tomorrow?:  I finally asked, lamely.

:Yes, I'd imagine so.:

:I'll talk to you tomorrow, then,: I said.

:Sure.  Tomorrow.:  He didn't look at me as he turned away toward the Slytherin dormitories;  I know, because I was watching.

I turned towards the corridor that would lead me to the Gryffindor tower, feeling strangely lonely.  I found myself glancing behind myself often.  I'd gotten out of sight of the Entrance Hall before I heard him—

:Have a good evening, Potter.:

Something inside me leapt with joy.  :You too, Malfoy.: