Luminescent
Part Seven
Touch

Disclaimer: As with every other chapter. . . all thirty seven of them (yes, that includes the prequals). . . I do not own Harry Potter, but the Lugovaloses can be claimed as mine. On their good days. All other days I attribute their existence to possession.

Warning: SLASH! (Hopefully we all know this, but I do this anyway. Because you know the chapter I don't some one will rip me a new one.) Um. . . angry!Harry, emotional!Phyrrus, bitchy!Umbitch. . . wait. . . she's always like that. . . Nevermind. . . Okay, I think that's it.

Author's Note: This is one of my favorite chapters in the series so far. I think the only one that beats it is in book four when Harry pulls Phyrrus from the lake. Anyway, I like this chapter for a variety of reasons and I hope you all enjoy it! This chapter is also beta'd! Thank you PrincessXXMoonXX! She is my amazing beta!

I would also like to remind everyone about my LiveJournal. The address is posted in my profile. It is also marked as my homepage. I have some drabbles there that aren't posted on from this series, and I also have the musings for a Gundam Wing Harry Potter cross that will (hopefully) get it's rear in gear.

To DigiMist: I've always thought of Phyrrus as a little dense in the emotions department. He just isn't really quick with that sort of thing. Probably fell on his head too many times as a child.

To Ariaeris

and

Osama: I really hope you like Harry's little. . . scene. Mwahahaha.

To TheSlytherinMuggle: You just had to make me think of nasty oatmeal, didn't you. I hate (lothe, despise, whatever) oatmeal! Ugh. . . thanks for the mental image. . . (Shudders, but laughs).

To Everyone: I hope you enjoy this update and, without further ado,

ENJOY CHAPTER SEVEN!
oOooOo

Phyrrus was fast asleep when Harry entered the infirmary, stiff hands crossed lightly over his chest. They weren't blackened anymore, the scars from the blood quill erased from the now smooth skin. The damage had been bad enough they'd had to strip the skin from his hands and regrow it, though Chara and Madame Pomfrey had managed to get the color of his hands to match the rest of him. Harry was kind of glad, Phyrrus would have looked strange with the pale scar tissue on his hands, and it would have been a constant reminder of Harry's mistake. Phyrrus' breathing was deep and even, his face peaceful, dark red lashes resting against tan, freckled cheeks. Cyrrus was there with Ginny, watching over his cousin closely, one hand touching the long, red strands that swept over the pillow. Both looked up as Harry entered, Ginny smiling at her boyfriend and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before slipping out. "Harry," Cyrrus greeted, pointing to the chair on the other side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," Harry hunched in on himself defensively, shoulders hitched in preparation for a hit he knew would come, and one that was justly deserved. "I'm so stupid."

"I'm not angry, really," Cyrrus' fingers tightened in his cousin's red locks. "I'm upset you ran away." He didn't hit the smaller teen, to Harry's surprise.

"Phyrrus needed me," Harry agreed, softly. "I shouldn't have. . . I was so angry and he was hurt and it was all my fault, and I couldn't. . . I'm sorry."

"You should be--"

"Stop--stop tor. . . menting. . . Cye," Phyrrus' hoarse voice broke in, one stiff hand reaching to Harry and resting on the boy's fist, clenched in the pristine white sheet. It was hard for Phyrrus to curl his fingers around the fist, and Harry immediately took the other's hand, brushing soft fingers over it to relax the twitching muscles. "He. . . hurts."

Cyrrus clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head when Phyrrus defended his boyfriend, sighing. He didn't understand why Phyrrus wouldn't let him yell at Harry, since the other boy clearly deserved it. "I'm so sorry, Phyrrus," Harry finally broke the oppressive silence. "Cyrrus is right. I. . . I made a mistake. A bad mistake. You needed me, and I ran away."

Phyrrus raised an eyebrow to his cousin, who grudgingly grabbed the cup of water by the table and held it to Phyrrus' lips. After greedily sucking down most of the water in the cup, Phyrrus shook his head. "We all make mistakes," Phyrrus finally offered, his voice no longer a harsh croak, though Harry could see hurt in those bright golden eyes.

"I was so scared you'd leave me," Harry finally broke down. "That you'd die and leave me alone. I couldn't. . . I couldn't handle that, so I ran away. I'm so stupid, Phyrrus."

"That certainly was," Phyrrus agreed. "I needed you."

Harry recoiled as though slapped, his gentle hold on Phyrrus' hands loosening. "I'm sorry." Harry started to turn away, he should have known that Phyrrus wouldn't want anything to do with him, bond or no bond, after a stunt like that. He had been so stupid, to leave Phyrrus when he was needed, and almost stood to get away when the Phyrrus' large hand tightened minutely over his own again with a small hiss of pain.

"I know. I'm upset, and hurt, but I can understand why you ran. I just. . . I wanted you with me so badly. What they did to my hands hurt, and you weren't here." Phyrrus was holding back tears, the sight making Cyrrus rise to his feet and leave the room softly, leaving the two alone.

Harry wasn't bothering to hold his back. He was so tired of crying, but Phyrrus' soft accusation hurt. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't leave me, I'll be better," Harry whimpered.

"I was never going to leave you," Phyrrus bit his lip. "I thought. . . I thought you running away meant you were leaving me."

"No, never." Harry shook his head emphatically, gripping Phyrru's hand tightly for a moment before seeing pain flash across his features and moving to grip his wrist instead. "I was so afraid. . . and I just lost all sense. . . I never had anyone to go to before Ron and Hermione and you and your family, and I was. . . I just. . . forgot. People didn't rely on me or need me and I was in the way--"

"You are never in my way," Phyrrus snapped, a little harsher than he intended. Seeing Harry wince, he softened his voice. "You can't get in my way, Harry. I love you too much."

Harry shook his head, pressing the palm of Phyrrus' hand to his lips to kiss it before moving to press it to his cheek and sighing. Phyrrus got a little smirk on his face and reached out with his other arm to hook it around Harry's waist and drag him onto the bed. Harry didn't resist, but climbed into bed with Phyrrus and rested his ear over the other's heart. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." Phyrrus sighed. "I should have told you about the letters."

"And I shouldn't have run away."

"We're so screwed up," Phyrrus gave a slightly watery laugh, which surprised Harry because the last (and only) time he'd seen Phyrrus cry was when Chara nearly died the summer before. It had been painful to watch the heart broken tears, and to know he had nearly driven his boyfriend to tears was shocking to him. He didn't say anything, because Phyrrus was too macho to appreciate having it pointed out, but it actually warmed his heart to know that. To know that Phyrrus really would miss him if he left.

"Yeah, we are. But at least we're screwed up together!" Harry wiped away the last of his own tears and shifted to press a kiss to Phyrrus' lips before snuggling back into his chest. "You need to rest, now." Harry scolded when Phyrrus moved to kiss him again.

Phyrrus pouted, but obediently laid back down, cuddling Harry. It was strange for Phyrrus' hands to lay stiff and motionless on Harry's back, since Phyrrus was usually rubbing it when they laid together at night, relaxing both himself and Harry, but when the stiff fingers shifted Harry shook his head. "Your hands need to rest too," Harry murmured. "Go to sleep. Will you be allowed to return to class?"

"Yes, but it's a mystery how I'll get through the day," Phyrrus made a face.

"Don't worry about it." Harry kissed the underside of his jaw. "I'll be your hands."

"Thank you." Phyrrus breathed, and both drifted off shortly after. Phyrrus grateful he had such a wonderful boyfriend, and Harry knowing that he would be the best hands he could while Phyrrus' recovered.
oOooOo

"Fuck!" Phyrrus sounded near tears as he cursed, making Harry blink as he woke. Phyrrus wasn't in their bed, but sitting on the next one over, trying to eat his breakfast. Scrunching his face up as he wondered why Phyrrus was awake and cursing and what he was cursing about, Harry heard the sharp clatter of silverware on china and another curse, this one closer to tears than before.

"Arudo?" Harry asked, sitting up and stretching. "What's wrong?"

"I can't hold the fucking flatware," Phyrrus finally gave up the fight and stared miserably at his hands while tears rolled down his face. "The fucking handles are too fucking thin and my fucking hands are too fucking stiff, and they keep fucking falling."

Pain, frustration, helplessness, and sharp fear shifted through the bond, and Harry was next to him in a moment. "It's only been a day, arudo, you can't expect your hands to get better in a day." It certainly explained the excess cursing, Harry decided, since Phyrrus didn't normally curse quite that much.

"I know," Phyrrus wiped an arm over his eyes. "But. . . my hands, Harry.My hands. I used them for everything. Martial arts, farming, writing, eating. . . I'm fucking. . . fucking helpless! I can't eat, I can't dress, fuck, going to the bathroom this morning was fucking hell. I can't do anything, Harry. Anything. I can't even fucking eat by myself."

Harry shook his head, wrapping his arms around Phyrrus and allowing the taller to bury his face in Harry's shoulder. He was surprised that Phyrrus was still crying, since it was slightly out of character, but Harry felt he could forgive it this time because Phyrrus had just lost the use of his hands for at least a few days. "What if they never get better?" Phyrrus' voice was so soft, finally voicing his fear to Harry. "What if I'm crippled for the rest of my life?"

"Then I'll be your hands for the rest of your life." Harry told him confidently. "We'll make it through this, and you will get better, and even if you don't, I'll stand by you no matter what."

Phyrrus just let himself cry for several more minutes before shakily murmuring, "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Harry held the other tighter until Phyrrus unburied himself from Harry's shoulder, ready to face the world. His face was blotchy and his eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but he looked quite a bit better than he had. More confident now that Harry had assured Phyrrus the he wasn't going anywhere; that this wouldn't drive Harry away.

"Can you get me a cool cloth?" Phyrrus finally asked. "I need to wipe my face."

"Sure," Harry made his way to the bathroom for the cloth, and wiped Phyrrus' face down gently, peppering kisses all over his cheeks and forehead and mouth. He smirked when Phyrrus huffed, but found himself trapped when his boyfriend's powerful arms wound about his waist and refused to let go before they'd shared a proper kiss. "Evil as ever," Harry commented, looking suitably kissed as he put the rag on the table. He considered the silverware for a moment, then smirked.

"That can't be good," Phyrrus grumbled.

"Oh, I just had an idea," Harry muttered, grabbing the fork Phyrrus had kept dropping and hunting down some spell-o-tape. Folding the cloth and twisting it around the handle before taping it in place, Harry effectively made a grip on the fork. "Try that."

The jury-rigged fork worked. The cloth made the handle large enough for Phyrrus to hold, though maneuvering was a little tricky at time. Even so, Phyrrus successfully fed himself breakfast and mostly dressed, Harry had to help with the buttons, before heading up to the tower to get ready to go to class. Harry was enlisted to find books and put Phyrrus' book pack on him because it hurt his hands too much to do it himself, and then dash off to class.

Unfortunately, it was Monday, but history of magic went on without a hitch--since everyone slept, holding things wasn't an issue--but problems appeared almost immediately in potions. "Mr. Snape?" Phyrrus hurried to the desk. "I won't be able to brew today."

"Oh?" Severus's voice was silky and dangerous, but he winked at Phyrrus all the same. "And why is that?"

"My hands, sir," Phyrrus held them up, and closed them as far as he could. Severus examined them for awhile, poking and prodding gently to see the extent of the damage in concern. He had helped treat Phyrrus, and wanted to know how the progress was coming. "They'll be stiff for a week or two from whatever that stuff on them was."

"Boburtuber pus infused with glumbumble venom which makes an acid," Severus told him absently as he looked over his hands. "As you will, then. Potter, you are responsible for your boyfriend. Mr. Torrent, you can help him out." While Severus could–and usually did--use Cyrrus' and Phyrrus' first names, while they were in class he used their nicknames in place of their last names to tell them apart. It was easier on them all, because while Cyrrus and Phyrrus could be confused if they missed part of their name over the din of the classroom, Torrent and Flame could not.

"Yes, sir." Cyrrus immediately moved to Harry's table and pulled up an extra chair, shrugging to Draco who made a face, but didn't protest too loudly. That left an odd number in the class, so Severus assigned Draco to Hermione and Neville's group. The blond and brunette traded looks. That meant Operation: Don't Let Neville Blow Up The Potions Classroom was officially underway. It was an uneventful double period for them, thankfully, and Phyrrus had to sigh in relief at that.

The last thing he needed was an accident in potions.
oOooOo

It wasn't until later that they really ran into problems. On their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry finally learned just how badly Phyrrus had been treated because of his alleged abuse to Harry. Another thing Phyrrus had not told his boyfriend, simply because he had been trying to ignore it himself. It was mostly the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs that gave him problems since they didn't know Phyrrus or anyone in his family well, and it honestly hadn't been bad when Phyrrus had been able to wave a fist. He was scary enough, and Hufflepuffs were too scared to attack outright, and Ravenclaws were too intelligent.

Now, though, with his hands useless and Harry sticking so close, the students saw it as a time to attack Phyrrus to show Harry how great they were. "Phyrrus?" Harry looked around warily as Phyrrus stilled, watching the four boys--two Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaw–approach. "Tell me they haven't been harassing you in the halls," Harry frowned as everything clicked into place.

"It wasn't bad," Phyrrus admitted. "I mean, a shove and a trip, not a big deal--I mean, considering my family and all--but now. . ."

Harry nodded, watching the group circle the two of them, and frowned. "Well, Flame, looks like you've got a problem," One smirked. "Can't protect yourself now, can you."

"Looks like someone got you back for what you did to Harry." Another gave a vicious smile. "Serves you right."

"Phyrrus?" Harry's brow furrowed in worry.

"I'll be fine, but you better move. I don't want them hitting you by mistake." Phyrrus was bluffing, and both he and Harry knew it. There was no way he could fight them very well with his hands in the condition they were, and if he was reduced to his kicks, he would cause a lot more damage. Damage he didn't want to cause.

"I'm where I belong." Harry told him firmly as the Hufflepuffs attacked. Phyrrus sighed, blocking one with his forearm and another with his knee, and nearly screaming in pain when a Ravenclaw caught his pained hands. When the second Ravenclaw grabbed his other hand and crushed it closed, Phyrrus did scream, high pitched and pained.

"Phyrrus!" Harry's power blazed, knocking all four away as Phyrrus cradled his hands to his chest and gasped in pain, involuntary tears leaking from his eyes.

"Fuck!"

"Don't you touch him!" Harry snapped at the attacking teens, eyes blazing acidic green with his power. "He doesn't hurt me, and he doesn't deserve for you to assume so just because the paper printed it! You leave him alone!"

The force of Harry's power scattered them, to where they didn't know or care, and Harry dragged Phyrrus from the hall and towards the infirmary. "Don't, baby, I'm fine," Phyrrus flexed his hands. "I promise. The pain's fading, feel it?"

Phyrrus cracked their bond enough for Harry to feel that the pain really was fading, and that his hands were not permanently damaged. Madame Pomfery had said that movement would be painful while his hands healed, but undue movement wouldn't hurt them. Unless he damaged something else. It would just hurt too much for Phyrrus to use his hands fully for awhile. "See? I'm fine."

"All right." Harry agreed, pressing soft kisses to both of Phyrrus' hands. "As long as you aren't hurt."

"Hurt is debatable," Phyrrus grumbled. "I'm in pain, yes, though it is fading, but nothing is injured. Just soreness."

"Promise?" Harry took Phyrrus' hand lightly.

"Cross my heart. Come on, we'll be late if we don't hurry, and I can't say I'm Umbitch's favorite person," Phyrrus smirked. Harry rolled his eyes--Phyrrus nicknamed everyone he disliked and it usually involved cursewords--but Umbridge was, by far, his least favorite teacher. Not that Harry blamed him, but Phyrrus had already caused enough trouble in her class. The last thing he needed was more.

"All right, then, let's go." Harry sighed but made his way back towards the classroom, finally discovering where the four idiots had gone too. Hearing their shouts, both looked up to see the two Ravenclaws stuck to the ceiling by their backs and the Hufflepuffs attached belly-up and eating ceiling stone.

"I think they deserved that," Harry muttered, then flounced towards the classroom. Phyrrus rolled his eyes and sighed. Only Harry.
oOooOo

Umbridge was not pleased when Phyrrus handed her the note from Madame Pomfrey, glaring at him even after he was seated. "Good afternoon, class," Umbridge all but snarled, still glaring at Phyrrus. The class obediently twittered back, though Phyrrus' voice was not among them. Umbrdige gave them directions to open their books, and pounced immediately on Phyrrus when he did not reach for his bag.

"What are you waiting for, boy?" She sneered.

"I can't open my bag." Phyrrus was determined to stay calm. "I can't use the zipper." He held up his hands to remind her, and forced himself not to cry out when she swatted them away to hit the desk painfully.

"Don't do that!" Hermione protested as Harry hastily examined Phyrrus' hands to make sure they were okay. "You'll hurt him!"

"Chapter two," Umbridge snarled at the class, and Harry pulled Phyrrus' bag open, allowing him to take out his book, which he set neatly on the desk.

"Why isn't your book open yet, Lugovalos?" Umbridge sneered as Harry frantically looked for chapter two in his own book.

Phyrrus gave her a look like she was on idiot. "I can't grip the book very well. It's simpler if Harry does it for me."

"Mr. Potter can't sit by you," Umbridge snapped, ordering Harry across the room and moving Ron and Hermione as well. "So I recommend you learn how."

"I can't, Ms. Umbridge," Phyrrus finally sighed, shaking his head. "My hands are f--messed up from the acid. Madame Pomfrey said the stiffness would last at least a week. I'm not opening my book because it is currently physically impossible without a great deal of pain."

Umbridge leaned closer to him, hands on the desk. "Do it anyway," She growled. "Or Harry will find himself in detention."

Gold eyes regarded her carefully. "Do that, and you'll get a taste of Reikatsuken Byakko."

"Is that a threat?"

"I can't order him around. I just thought you'd like to know he's very. . . protective. . . of both Harry and myself." Phyrrus' face was blank. "Either way, I can't open my book without help. So either you do it, or find someone else too."

"I wish that pus had taken off your hands," Umbridge hissed.

Phyrrus' eyes narrowed. "I never told you it was pus."

"The rumor mill is an amazing thing," Umbridge frowned.

"Of course it is," Phyrrus murmured, raising an eyebrow. He knew for a fact that he hadn't told anyone there had been pus involved, only that it was acid. The only people that knew about the pus were his friends and family, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Madame Pomfrey. And he knew none of them had shared it. The only way Umbridge could have known there was pus in that envelope was if she was somehow involved.

Umbridge stalked away, leaving his book closed. Phyrrus rolled his eyes and put his head on the desk. What a terrible day.
oOooOo

After the disastrous Monday, the rest of the week was fairly easy. Most of the professors were understanding about Phyrrus' condition, and helped him as much as they could in class. Phyrrus had trouble holding his wand, though he managed all right for the most part as it was round rather than flat like the silverware. Harry watched him like a hawk as well, and Phyrrus knew he was working twice as hard to get things done since he had to help Phyrrus too. As Phyrrus couldn't hold a quill, they did their homework together, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione taking turns writing down his answers.

Phyrrus also continued to use the modified flatware to eat with. Harry had talked the house elves into giving Phyrrus the special silverware in the Great Hall so he didn't have to suffer the embarrassment of someone feeding him. By Saturday, though, Phyrrus could successfully hold his own quill and regular silverware, and had no trouble with his wand.

His hands were still a little stiff, which made turning pages in his books or working buttons and zippers difficult, but he was healing at a very fast rate. By Monday, even those small things were no longer trouble.

The entirety of Gryffindor tower gave a sigh of relief. Phyrrus had taken everything mostly in stride, only lashing out a few times in pure frustration, to most of their surprise. They had all seen his temper at least once, and were surprised he didn't scream more often over the week. But with his strained smiles as the week wore on, they weren't stupid enough to think his good humor would last much longer.

Actually, it probably wouldn't have lasted as long as it had if Cyrrus and Harry hadn't baited Phyrrus into a couple of screaming fits that week just to blow off some steam he hadn't even realized was building.

And the fight with Harry had just been funny.

Wednesday morning, Harry had wandered into the Great Hall with Phyrrus, sat down at their usual table, and nonchalantly told his boyfriend, "I think I want to dye my hair green."

"You want to what now?" Phyrrus choked a bit on his pumpkin juice.

"Dye my hair green," Harry told him patiently. "To match my eyes. Maybe pierce my ears. You know, the punk look. I think it would suit me."

"Oh no. No, no, no. You're baiting me and I'm not going to fall for it."

"Would I bother to bait you?"

"Sometimes. . ."

"Cyrrus thought it would look good."

Phyrrus mouthed wordlessly for a moment. "What?"

"Well, I mentioned it to him, and he thought he could get the dye by tonight. The piercing will have to wait, of course, but. . ."

"No. No dying the hair."

"Why? Are you going to forbid me?"

"If I have too! Green isn't your color!"

"So you're insulting my eyes?"

"I like your eyes!"

"Then green is my color!"

"GREEN IS PERFECT FOR YOUR EYES, BUT DON'T YOU DARE COLOR YOUR HAIR! I LIKE IT BLACK AND DARK AND PERFECT AND IF YOU COLOR IT GREEN, SO HELP ME, I'LL FEED YOU A CANARY CREAM NEXT WEEK AT BREAKFAST!"

"Feel better?"

"Damn. I fell for it."

"Feel better?"

"Shut up."

Phyrrus had also spent the rest of the day pouting.
oOooOo

Phyrrus gave a relieved sigh and fell into bed. "I'm so glad that ordeal is over." He told his boyfriend, flexing his fingers. They were a little weak, now, but all he really had to do was rebuild the muscle in them. It wouldn't take long.

"Me too. I don't think you would have survived another week," Harry laughed, pulling on his sleep clothes and crawling towards Phyrrus. "And. . . I missed those hands."

"I missed those hands too," Phyrrus muttered, using his now-better hands to pull Harry closer and press their lips together for a heated kiss. Harry's fingers twisted in Phyrrus' red hair, enjoying Phyrrus playing with his own black locks. "I missed doing this with them," He added, rubbing Harry's head then drifting down the other's back, pulling him close and tilting his head back slightly to deepen the kiss. Harry groaned into the kissed, shifting closer as well and moving his hands to grip Phyrrus' shirt.

"I missed that, too," Harry panted when Phyrrus let him go. "Damn. . ."

"I made Harry cuss," Phyrrus teased lightly, fingers skimming over Harry's ticklish ribs and making him squirm.

"I didn't miss that!" Harry gasped, jerking away. "You meanie!"

Phyrrus gave an evil little smile before yanking Harry back down to seal their lips together, intent on initiating a decent make-out session now that he could use his hands again. Kissing Harry was great and all, but there was just something more to it when he could lift his smaller partner and flip them over. Upon doing so, reward by a startled squawk from Harry, he grinned. "So, we were in the middle of a celebration?"

"Don't get to ahead of yourself," Harry warned, rubbing his hands down Phyrrus' side. "I need to sleep tonight."

"I wasn't going to make-out all night," Phyrrus muttered, pouting. Harry laughed and pressed another kiss to his boyfriend's lips, opening himself to their bond. He could feel Phyrrus do the same, basking in each other and the soft, phoenix song that always accompanied their bond when they fully opened it with each other. It was a comforting sound, even though Chara had once told them she had never heard of any type of sound going over a bond. Madame Pomfrey hadn't either.

Honestly, it didn't bother them much. They were already strange, why should this be any different? And the sound was so comforting that it never bothered them. Quite the opposite. It made them feel much better about themselves, and what was happening to them, since it was often so confusing. But the phoenix song was so nice. . . Both of them basked in the sound, and each others ministrations, for some time before regretfully breaking apart. Both were flushed and breathing heavily, eyes half-lidded with lust for each other.

They also knew fully well that if they didn't stop there, they probably wouldn't stop at all, and neither of them wanted to consummate the bond right then. Especially not at school. Besides, Phyrrus had to stop. He had several things to do before even contemplating that. One of which was to wait for the ring so he could propose to Harry and start planning their joining. It probably wouldn't be for awhile, not until after they graduated, at least, but he had already ordered the ring and was planning the perfect time to ask.

He was so proud of himself, too.

Harry had no idea.
oOooOo