There is that space between waking and sleeping where things are a bit rounded on the edges and everything loses focus. Draco can't pull himself out of this limbo after staying up to watch Harry. Dust motes fly through bands of morning to land gently on his nose. He scrunches up a bit, but otherwise doesn't come to. On the bed, Harry is restless. Sweat soaks into the bed linens, but he clings to the covers as if they can prevent all the bad memories from finding him.
A cry, sharp and startling, has Draco flailing for balance on the edge of the couch. He tosses the blanket off, wipes away the remnants of sleep and walks toward Harry. With clothes on, he can't see any scars. He can't tell that the man in front of him has been tortured, burned, has skin like that of a war veteran—Draco has to remind himself that Harry is very much a child of war and takes a deep breath. There are mumbled words coming from beneath the covers; he leans forward.
"Mrmph Hog-wand-Quiddi-Weasley-narg-mmm—" This goes on for several minutes, until he hears, "Dumbledore." That is a name, said softly, reverently even in sleep, that makes Draco clench his jaw and back away from the bed.
He scrambles toward the door and in his haste, makes an awful amount of noise trying to find the knob. Watching the sleeping figure, his reaching left hand locates it and presses down. It isn't until he's out of the room that he realizes he's been holding his breath. Exhaling in a great burst of emotion, Draco doubles over and grabs hold of his knees. The wall becomes his support. This is how Tovo finds him.
"What can Tovo do for Master Draco?" The concern in her voice is overwhelming. He looks up and grimaces. His hand gestures toward the room he's vacated.
"Go watch him. I—I need some time." Just as Tovo is about to reassure Draco of her loyalty and whatever other nonsense he is sure would follow, he hears a strangled scream which somewhat resembles his name.
"—aaaaacco!" It isn't quite the right sound or letters, but he closes his eyes, leans his head against the wall, and releases the tear he's been damning. Tovo's eyes grow wide and he wipes it away, banging his head hard on the wall, then reaching for the door.
"Does Mast—"
"No." Then he is gone.
Inside the room, Harry huddles on the other side of his bed, hands searching the ground as if he's lost something. Draco takes a stuttering breath and walks forward. Harry looks up, wild-eyed and afraid.
"Harry?"
"It was here. I felt it."
"You felt what, Harry.'
"I felt him. He has another one here."
"Tell me what you felt, because I can guarantee you he wasn't here." The sigh he lets out seems overwhelming. Harry is crawling around, looking under the bed and peeking around corners as if waiting for something to happen.
"Magic. Powerful, dark magic."
"This house is full of dark magic," Draco spits out. I highly doubt this is the first time you're feeling it."
"No, but I feel it burning across my skin. It's on fire. It's inside me. It's like he's inside me again." Draco's brow quirks up. He's heard about the connection with Harry and Voldemort from Lucius, but knows that it was broken during the battle at Hogwarts.
"When did it start?"
"Last night. After it was quiet. It was so quiet. Then I started burning. He's burning me alive." Draco taps his finger against his leg twice and, as if that irritates him, shoves his hand in his trousers to retrieve his wand. Harry dives for the bed.
"What are you doing?"
"Lower your wand!"
"It isn't raised, you daft wanker." He growls, but holds it out to the side. Thoughts pass through so quickly. He tries to think of a spell that is incredibly harmless, but would land on Harry's skin. "Tergeo." Harry wails from his hiding spot and lurches into the middle of the room.
"What's happening? Where is he?"
"Harry, did you just feel the burning?"
"YES!" Harry roars. "Make it stop! Find him!"
"Harry, stop." He continues to thrash and wail, clutching at his clothing, his skin, scratching and digging and tearing. Draco stalks forward and puts a body-bind on the man. Only panic-stricken eyes look up at him. "I said stop. Do you feel the burning now?" Harry's eyes roll back into his head. "That is my magic, Harry. I am not Voldemort, nor am I particularly dark or evil. I have my days, as you well know, but I am not that boy anymore." He backs away a step, ready for a fight. "I'm going to release you now." When the spell lifts, Harry jerks once, twice, then lays there breathing heavily. "Are you all right now?"
All he gets is a nod. He turns and walks out of the room, sending Tovo in to watch the odd wizard. He desperately needs to shower. The odd feeling shooting up his arms is from more than the proximity to Harry's wild magic.