'Cause I know what I've been missing

And I know that I should try

But there's hope in this admission

And there's freedom in your eyes

I'm sick and tired of being afraid

If I cry anymore then my tears will wash me away

But when I hear you call my name

I whisper a word that I never thought I'd ever say

-Hurts

Light blurred the edges of his vision, bright and painful. Harry groaned as consciousness slowly washed over him, bringing with it the feeling that he had just taken a bludger to the stomach. No…more like a hundred bludgers. Scrunching his eyes, Harry willed away the film of drowsiness that clung to his lashes, and twisted himself further under the sheets…the extremely silky sheets…since when did he have silk sheets? Harry jolted upward, his pulse suddenly racing.

He was sitting in a king sized bed, in what appeared to be an incredibly large bedroom. From what he could see—which wasn't much, considering he didn't have his glasses—there was an obvious tribute to Slytherin colors; greens, blacks, and silvers were splashed across the furnishings in the room, though Harry was pretty sure that he wasn't in the cold dungeons of Hogwarts. Dungeons didn't have windows, right? He couldn't seem to think clearly—his head was swimming and his stomach felt about ready to turn itself inside out. Maybe sitting up hadn't been such a good idea. Harry flopped back down on the bed, closing his eyes once more in attempt to keep the room from spinning.

The sharp click of an opening lock sounded through the room, and Harry found his hands gripping the covers tight. "Potter!" Draco's cheery voice rang as he stepped through the doorway. "You insufferable lazy bum, wake up! It's almost noon and I'm bored out of my mind."

Harry shook his head, turning to bury his face in a green silken pillow. He distantly felt the bed give as Draco perched himself on its edge, and for some reason it made his blood rush.

"Potter?"

The events of the previous night were slowly creeping back. He'd touched Malfoy Manor's gate and…and something had happened to him. It had felt like he'd been shot straight through, every inch of him lit up and paralyzed with a burst of magic so strong that it had left him broken, his nerves splintered and frayed. He remembered arms around him, shaking him, and a black presence taking hold.

"Malfoy…?"

"I'm here," Draco said.

The sound of Draco's voice sent a strange chill down Harry's spine. He cleared the hoarseness from his throat. "Ron and Hermione…were they…?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"Potter, the wards on this house were designed by the chief security secretary of the Ministry. There was no one else here last night besides you."

Harry frowned into the silk. He knew Hermione was clever enough to get around even the best of wards without being detected. But if she and Ron had been here, then at least they'd left as quietly as they came. Yet even still there was an odd discomfort bubbling in his stomach. He could feel each movement Draco made like tremor raking his nerves.

"Do you still feel sick?"

Harry nodded, refusing to look at Draco out of sheer embarrassment, and something else he couldn't quite distinguish. His skin began to prickle as he became increasingly aware of Draco's presence on the bed.

"You scared me half to death you know. For a moment I thought you were dead."

At this, Harry turned to peek up from the pillow. "You were scared?"

Harry couldn't tell what Draco's expression was—his vision was far too poor—but from the sound of his answer, he could tell that Draco was struggling with his response. "Well, maybe scared was the wrong word. Malfoys don't get scared. More like…genuinely surprised by your sudden state of distress."

"Malfoys do too get scared. I seem to recall a certain Hippogri—"

"That beast tried to kill me!"

Harry squinted in annoyance. "Hey, where're my glasses?"

"Oh!" Harry heard Draco fumble through the drawers of the bedside dresser. Draco extended his hand out to Harry, who took the spectacles with a thankful nod. Harry slipped the cold metal over his nose and gave a relieved sigh as his world once again came into focus. He looked over at the Slytherin, who was rolling his bottom lip back and forth against his teeth. Harry watched the movement for a long moment with an odd sort of fascination. A burst of hot blood pulsed in his cheeks, as the temperature in the room seemed to rise.

"You okay there, Potter?"

"Er, yeah." Harry shook himself. "I think whatever curse was on your front gate really did a number on me."

The line of Draco's jaw went tense as he clenched his teeth. For some reason the reaction was like a stab in Harry's gut.

"What?" he asked.

Draco's lips went tight.

"Malfoy," Harry's voice hardened, "what is it?"

"I'm not sure I should say."

"Say what?"

"You're going to freak out."

Harry's heart jackhammered against his ribcage. He pushed himself up once more, ignoring the fierce protesting pounding in his skull. "Malfoy…what kind of curse was on that gate?"

"And I honestly don't feel like being punched today. I'm starting to think my nose is going crooked after all of the Episkey spells that its undergone."

"Malfoy," Harry hissed.

"That look you're giving me certainly isn't giving me confidence in your ability to control your temper either."

"Malfoy! Tell me!"

Something in Draco's face caved. "I don't know. It's not…something I'm very familiar with," the words came out hurried and strangely stunted. "It's not so much what curse was on the gate, as what effect the curse ended up having after…that Petrificus was meant to handle a lot more than one person after all…"

Something about Draco's words had Harry's adrenaline pumping.

"I've heard of it happening before—wizards having a considerable amount of magic forced into their system in one short burst—their bodies react to the overload by trying to reject not only the magic that was forced into them, but also the magic that already lives within them. It's called Magic Repulsion."

"Magic Repulsion?"

"Right," Draco looked hesitant, his brows pulling together. "You…may not be able to use magic for a little while."

The following moment seemed to split from time.

"WHAT?" Harry exploded. Not use magic! His blood began to race as his hands fumbled through his jeans in search for his wand. His pocket was pointedly barren. He whirled back towards Draco, fury spreading through his veins like wildfire. "Where the hell is my wand, Malfoy?"

Draco inched back, looking pale. "And you wonder why I didn't want to tell you."

"MALFOY!"

"Potter, will you just calm down for a second?" Draco snarled, baring his teeth like a predator backed into a corner.

"Calm down?" Harry shouted, hot rage making his vision go white. "Are you out of your mind? How can you expect me to be calm when you just told me that I can't use magic anymore?" The room began to spin, and Harry felt his nausea swell up in his throat with renewed vigor.

Draco's eyes widened in sudden understanding, and the next thing Harry knew he was being rushed to the bathroom. Harry fell to his knees over the toilet and retched violently. Draco kneeled down beside him, running his hand lightly along Harry's back.

Harry wished he wouldn't. He didn't want to be soothed. Not when his magic was gone and his body felt like it was dying all around him.

Once his stomach was completely empty, Harry crossed his arms over the cool porcelain and buried his face into them. His breathing was heavy and labored, sweat dripping freely down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. "Where's my wand, Malfoy?" Harry's voice was raspy from his sickness.

Draco's hand was still moving; a feather-light touch on Harry's spine. "It's safe, Potter."

"I want it."

"Potter, I know it's not your strong suit, but try and think for a second," Draco's hand became more firm against his back. "If your body is trying to reject magic, what do you think will happen if you try to use your wand? You'll just make yourself worse. This isn't permanent you know. I'm sure within a couple days—"

"I don't care!" And Harry didn't care. Magic was all there was for him. It was his air. It was his blood. It was his very life.

"Harry."

Harry tensed, his heart leaping into his throat. He lifted his head slowly and turned towards the blonde. Draco's face was pale and sincere, and his large slate eyes gleamed like twin stars plucked from the night sky. But that wasn't what concerned Harry. What concerned him was the way his stomach had fluttered at the sound of his first name spilling over Draco's lips. What concerned him was the fact that he wanted to know what those lips felt like as they whispered his name.

Harry suddenly felt sick all over again. He had not just thought about kissing Draco.

"Earth to Potter." Draco waved a hand in front of Harry's face, snapping Harry back to attention. "Are you all right? You look like you're about to faint again."

Harry choked as Draco leaned in closer, his tongue darting out to lick overly pink lips. It was all Harry could do to remain still, and not raise his hand to run his fingers along the wet trail on Draco's lower lip. "Could I take a shower?" Harry rasped. He needed to be alone. He needed a moment away from Draco to regain control what whatever it was that was trying to take hold of him.

"Sure." Draco removed his hand from the small of Harry's back, and Harry felt a stinging rush of cold. The blonde rocked back on his heels, scrutinizing the other boy with a calculating gaze. "Do you need any help?"

"No," he ground out, forcing his blush down.

Draco rose to his feet gracefully. "So you can stand then?" There was more than a hint of disbelief in his tone.

Glaring defiantly, Harry grit his teeth and pushed himself up from the toilet. His legs wobbled a bit, but they held firmly enough.

Draco raised a blonde brow. "Alright. The towels are under the cabinets, and I'll fetch you a change of clothes." Grey eyes traveled down Harry's body, and he found himself holding his breath. "You're about a 30 waist right?"

Harry merely nodded, not sure if he could handle forming words and standing at the same time.

"That makes things easy then. I'll bring them in once you're in the shower, okay?" With a lingering half-smile, Draco turned and trekked off towards the door that led to his bedroom.

He was halfway through the walkway when Harry decided to take a chance on speaking. "Malfoy?"

Draco stopped and turned. "Yes, Potter?"

Harry began to tremble, his question lost as those stormy eyes connected with his own. "Never mind," he said finally, berating himself and silently cursing Draco for looking at him while he was trying to talk.

Draco's brow creased in confusion, but he turned and disappeared through the door in silence.

As soon as the door shut, Harry fell against the counter, dry heaving and shaking like a leaf in the wind. He reached over and flushed the toilet before finally slumping to the ground. What in the world was going on with him? Harry's stomach churned as he peeled his shirt from his body, parts of the cloth clinging to the dried sweat on his torso. His body felt like lead, and every movement strained his wearied muscles. Not having his wand was the closest thing he could imagine to the torture of a Dementor's kiss; there was a sort of icy void in his chest that radiated out into his limbs and made them heavy with pain.

Not bothering to remove the rest of his clothing, he threw his shirt to the ground and shuffled over to the slate and glass shower. Using the wall as a support, Harry held himself up and clamored through the glass door.

The shower itself was quite large, with dark green stone tiled along the floor and walls, a vaulted ceiling, and a wide showerhead that plumed out from above. Harry gripped the brass knob that jutted out from the wall, and twisted it firmly. A scalding stream of water shot out from the showerhead, encompassing Harry in a veil of steam and water.

It wasn't too long before the glass of the shower was completely fogged and steam billowed out over the top to fill the rest of the bathroom. Harry leaned his forehead against the green slate, enjoying the overly hot water as it slammed down into his neck and back.

His body felt heavy, and his mind sluggish. Everything was so jumbled up he could barely think straight. He seemed to be spiraling out of control, everything disjointed and not fitting together the way it once had.

Harry closed his eyes, his mind drifting back to the hospital. He remembered how small Ginny's hand had felt in his own, and how unbearably fragile she had looked while she slept. And then he remembered Draco standing opposite him and telling him about the book and the boy, and the children falling off the cliff. He remembered how Draco's face had been etched with sincerity…his face that was all sharpness and sculpted beauty. He remembered how close they had been, and how Draco's breath had felt like a butterfly's caress against his skin. And then he saw something that most definitely had not happened.

Harry's heart hammered in his chest as he saw himself leaning forward, his lips brushing against Draco's. There was a loud pounding in his ears as Harry felt his stomach flutter into his throat. Even though it had only happened once, Harry vividly remembered what kissing Draco had felt like. It was hard, and fierce, and burning. Harry licked his lips, practically tasting the residue of mint and spice. The pounding became louder.

"Potter!"

Harry jumped clear out of his skin, and with a startled yelp and a pained hiss he slipped and fell to the ground. He heard the glass door thunder open, and he turned around to see an enraged Draco stepping into the shower.

"What the hell are you playing at? Not answering when I—ah!" Draco sprung back as the water sprayed him. "What are you trying to do, Potter, burn yourself to death?" Draco extended a beckoning hand. "Come on, get out."

Harry merely stared at the blonde, unable to repress the thoughts that had just been racing through his mind. His heart was still pounding violently in his chest, and his whole body was racked with aching tremors. Something in his chest coiled, hot and ready to burst.

"Potter, get your arse up!" Draco snapped irately, stepping into the shower once more.

Harry pressed his back against the wall, vainly trying to distance himself from the other boy. He didn't like how close Draco was. He didn't like was the way Draco's platinum hair clung wetly to his forehead, dripping shimmering beads of water down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. And he definitely didn't like the way his shirt was thin enough to hint at the tones of Draco's skin as it hugged his wet torso. No…Harry didn't like that sight at all.

Draco kneeled down in front of him, wincing at the water's temperature. "Potter?" Draco leaned over him, supporting himself with one hand on either side of Harry's legs. "You're not going to pass out again are you? Because if you are I sure as hell am not going to let you sleep in my bed all wet like this."

Harry shook his head, for some reason far more concerned with the fact that he was shirtless than what would happen if he got into Draco's bed without drying off. Draco was too close—far too close. Harry felt trapped; trapped between the cold slate, the hot water, and the boy that tasted like Christmas morning. The boy whose smile was like a cool breeze on a warm day. The boy who—NO! Why was he thinking these things? He could feel his sickness welling up inside him once more. What was wrong with him?

"Potter!" Draco's hands moved up to cup Harry's cheeks, forcing Harry to look directly into those piercing grey eyes. "Say something!"

"Don't touch me," was all Harry managed to say. He didn't miss the flicker of pain that flashed across Draco's face as he recoiled his hands. Harry's face tingled from where Draco's hands had been, and something inside him was snapping. "Malfoy you have to get away, something's wrong with me. Something's—"

Draco's pained look dropped like a pin. "Why? What's wrong?"

Harry's body had resumed its violent shaking, and he couldn't quite tell whether it was just water or tears that burned down his cheeks. He tried to push Draco away. "Please just get away from me! I have to go! I have to go home!"

"Potter, just calm down!" With both hands Draco pushed him, none too gently, into the back wall of the shower. "Listen to me—if something's wrong you have to tell me what it is! I can help you!"

Draco's hands were tight on his shoulders, and Harry scratched and clawed at his wrists in attempt to detach himself. Harry's body was ticking, like a time bomb ready to explode. A force was welling like fire deep within him, flaring out to the brink of Harry's control. "Let go of me, Malfoy! Just leave me alone!" Harry's voice was tight with a barely restrained feeling, "Please, Malfoy!"

"Potter, I'm not going to hurt you!" Draco's gaze became desperate. "You're safe here. Just tell me what's wrong—"

But at that moment Harry's hold snapped. The fire burst and consumed him in a raging heat, and suddenly Harry's hands were gripping the thin cloth of Draco's shirt. With a brutal jerk forward, he brought Draco's face to his. Their lips crashed with bruising force, and in that single moment Harry felt as if his heart would fly from his chest. The water cascaded down in sheets onto tile sounding loud as drums, and for a flicker of a second, Harry closed his eyes and lost himself in the feeling of Draco's lips against his own.

And then a thin hand was on his chest, and Draco was pushing their bodies apart. Harry's eyes snapped open to see Draco staring at him, wide-eyed and bright-cheeked.

"What do you think you're doing?" Draco's features fell into an icy mask.

"I—" Harry couldn't breathe for the look on Draco's face. What had he just done? "Malfoy—I didn't mean to!" Harry struggled. "I'm sorry, I—"

Draco's face only darkened, and with a glacial glare and a tight jaw, he stood and swept out of the shower, disappearing through the door and into his bedroom.