Mr Weasley, get him out of here!"
Madam Pomfrey bustled over, looking alarmed, flapping her hands in Ron and Harry's direction to chivvy them away from Malfoy. "Mister Potter, get back to your own bed! You shouldn't be in here!"
Go away go away go away go away-!
Harry took a stumbling step backwards, looking towards Draco who was sat up in his bed, curled forwards over his knees with his hands gripped into his white-blond hair. He was rocking back and forth slightly and shouting, his voice muffled by his knees. Harry guessed that the words would be pretty much along the same lines as what he could hear in his head, if he could make them out.
"Go-" Madam Pomfrey insisted. "You'll make things worse by staying-"
Go away go away go AWAY-!
Harry had had enough- the pressure of Draco's constant monologue in his head was becoming painful, there just wasn't enough room in his brain for his thoughts and Draco's, and it looked like it was Draco was having just as much trouble-
He allowed Ron to roughly pull him backwards out of the cubicle, standing stock-still as Ron turned away from him to yank the curtain back into place, blocking Malfoy from view. Almost immediately the influx of thoughts subsided, like floodwater receding down a drain. He felt tired and shaky and allowed Ron to manoeuvre him back to his cubicle without protest.
…hurts too-
Fuck. So the thoughts were still there, thoughts that weren't his. Intruding thoughts that belonged to bloody Malfoy, of all people.
He could have cried as Ron pushed him to sit on the edge of his bed with a sigh. He wanted to carry on shouting and stamping around and maybe even get around to breaking some stuff, but after that encounter with Malfoy he felt too drained to even raise his voice.
Christ. Less than a year, and he was back to sharing his mind with someone less than desirable. How was this fair at all? Surely karma would have given him a break by now?
He leant forwards with a groan, pressing his forehead to his knees in an imitation of Malfoy's earlier pose. Just to complete the look, he threaded his hands into his hair on the back of his head, but managed to control himself and not rock back and forth like Malfoy had done.
How the fuck has this happened to him? It wasn't fair, he had paid his dues and now he was stuck with Draco in his brain? How long was this even going to last? Ten minutes was bad enough; the few disjointed words were unnerving, and he had the feeling it wouldn't get easier with time.
And why, oh why, did it have to be Malfoy? He wouldn't have even been anywhere near him if they'd not been bickering over that stupid book-
Anyone else would be better. Neville, or Ron, or Hermione, or- Harry's inner rant paused, imagining what it would be like if it were Ginny who was privy to all of his thoughts.
Well, he thought humourlessly. Maybe, for once, things could be worse.
It really was uncomfortable, Harry noted, whatever had gone on in his head. He could feel something - a sort of presence - in his mind that he hadn't always been aware of. As a matter of fact- he wasn't even sure that he could feel his brain before, but now that was definitely the case; something behind his temples hurting, aching, and sometimes throbbing and stabbing in time with Malfoy's thoughts.
It could be worse, he told himself firmly to stave off potential hysteria. It was just an accident and it would probably be fixed with a simple counter charm. He would be kicking Neville's arse for it, mind, but still.
He rallied himself and took a deep breath, sitting up and blowing it back out again through his nose, running his hands through his hair. Could be worse. Could be worse.
