1

 Harry was certain he could win this duel. After all, Malfoy had the flu, and in spite of Snape's attempts to brew up potions to cure him, he was still hopelessly sick. His nose was red, his eyes were puffy, he could only breathe through his mouth, he was slow and clumsy on the stairs, and it was probably his foul, fluish mood that prompted him to dare Harry to a duel between classes in the first place. Hermione, standing against the wall of the corridor with a book in her arms, gave Harry a look that said, Is this really worth the time and effort? But oh, it was. Draco had suggested that even as sick as a cross-eyed Muggle he was a better wizard than Harry. A comment like that could not go unchallenged. The only thing that worried Harry now was that Malfoy might sneeze on him.

"Do you wad to admid defead now," Malfoy sniffled, "Or shall I hubiliade you in front of your little fred?" Hermione snickered, and Malfoy shot her a glare. "You thig Ibe funny, Mudblood? Or were you thiging about your dobby dees?" His voice sounded pathetically thick and gravelly. If Harry hadn't watched his lips moving he would have thought the voice belonged to some ghost, one of Hagrid's wilder creatures, or to Millicent Bulstrode. It looked like speaking had taken too much out of him as it was; he was leaning slightly too far to the left and looked like he might fall down.

"Oh God, Malfoy. You've got to be kidding me," Harry laughed.

"Dode laugh ad me, Potter. I cad still kick your scrawdy little—"

"Oh, enough with the talking already! Harry, duel the monster and let's go to charms, shall we?" Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest, propping her chin up on the book. "Just breathing the same air as him is making me feel itchy."

Harry wasn't sure exactly what caused the accident. Much later he came to think that it was just fate stepping in. Malfoy leapt forward, rather clumsily, and aimed his wand at Harry, who dodged him easily, shooting a Petrificus Totalis spell that shot off the wall instead of hitting Malfoy. At some point they both jumped in the same direction and ended up in running headlong into each other. As they hit the floor, something cracked under Harry's chin and something wet smacked him in the ear.

"Ew!" Harry groaned, rubbing his sore chin and touching something sticky and wet in his hair. "What is this?"

"Thad's my bedicine, you ibecile." He carefully exacted a piece of broken glass from his pocket. Great. Now I have a pocket full of disgusting, sticky broken glass. This clumsy oaf nearly removed my appendix for me. Oh I'm so sore. I'm so tired. Now my bottom hurts. Ow.

Harry's eyes widened. For a moment he thought he was hallucinating, and then he heard it again. I don't want to get up. I ran into Potter's wand and now I'm going to have a bruise on my arm. I think I'll just stay here lying in the corridor all day. I hate charms. I hate school. Who cares anyway. Draco flopped back down on the floor and shut his eyes. "Go away, Potter. Tage your little fred wid you."

Harry washed the potion out of his ear in the boys' bathroom, but for the entire charms lesson he could here Malfoy in his head. I like pencils. I like how I write my name. My name is very pretty .D R A C O. Draco Draco Draco. It sounds nice. Draco Malfoy Malfoy Malfoy. My throat hurts. I'm bored.

He tried very hard to imagine how this could have happened. One of Snape's strange potions, made for Malfoy, sinking disgustingly into his ear. It must have triggered something. I think my shoes are getting too small. I hope I don't have huge feet when I'm older. Like, ridiculous feet. I would like to have nice feet. Harry shook his head and watched Malfoy, who seemed to be glaring at Hermione while thinking about his feet. It just didn't make any sense. He considered whether there was a lag between the thought occurring to Draco and when Harry could overhear it.

"What is it, Harry?" Ron whispered. "Is it...your scar?" Hermione looked up from her parchment.

"Oh God, Ron," Harry said. Ooooo Potter and Weasley chatting in class. I wonder what they're talking about. "No. It's not my scar. You won't believe it. Draco's medicine...got in my ear..." I'm so sore. I hate being sick. My bottom is itchy He snorted with laughter and tried to keep his voice down. "And.."

"He's been poisoned!" Hermione whispered urgently. "Just like in Hamlet! It's okay, Harry, we'll take you to Madame-"

"No no no!" Harry gasped, still giggling. It's really difficult to scratch your bottom in class. When you're sitting on it. "Not poisoned. No no, much, much funnier. I can...I can hear everything Malfoy thinks."

Hermione eyed him. "What?" My fingernails are far too long. I should clip them after class. On Goyle's bed. Ha.

"It's true! Every thought he has! In fact, right now he's thinking about...clipping his fingernails. He has the least interesting thoughts you could possibly imagine."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, suspicious. "I mean, how do you know it's Malfoy?"

Harry snickered. "I can just tell." Disgusting, fingernails. Thought my hands would look funny without them. Just fleshy stumps, really.

"This isn't good, Harry," Hermione whispered, looking serious. "Wizards have gone mad over less than this. You should see Dumbledore."

Fingernails are so strange. Why don't my toenails need to be clipped as often? Are fingernails like claws? How does so much dirt get under them when I'm so clean? "Yes," Harry said. "I think I may need to see Dumbledore. I feel madness fast approaching."

*

"Oh dear, " Dumbledore said, looking at Harry. "That is unusual. Does Mr. Malfoy know?"

"Um, no." Harry stared at his shoes. I love cheese. I could eat cheese all day. But then I would get all bunged up, and I already know that's not much fun. "He saw the medicine go into my ear, but I didn't mention, the, uh..." I can't taste the brie but I can almost taste the blue cheese. Mmmm. Blue fungus. Yum.

"Yes, I can understand your hesitation, Mr. Potter." Oooo my head. My head hurts. Why can't I go I lie down? I bet Snape will let me go. I'll beg out of potions and go have a sleep. "But he simply must be told. It isn't very fair to him not to tell him. Now, you said that Professor Snape had mixed this flu cure?"

Maybe I'll take a very long very hot shower too. That clears some of the crap out of my nose. "Yes sir."

"Well, we must go see Professor Snape, then. Perhaps we can all sort this out together." I love being naked. I don't get to do that enough around here. So many stupid people prying around all the time while you're trying to have a good-

"Yes, please! Let's sort it out!" 

2

"Now," Snape snapped. "What is all this about, Mr. Potter? Trying to get attention again, are we? Are you going to accuse poor, ill Mr. Mal-"

"Severus, please." Dumbledore sat down on the table in front of Professor Snape. As usual it was cold and damp in the dungeons, and Harry could faintly smell leeches and made a face. Argh. I want to go lie down. Why is he here? I haven't done anything. And it's cold in here. Harry watched Malfoy shiver, sneer slightly, and then cough rather wetly.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore began. What? Why does he start with me? Why is it always ME? "I realize you're unwell, but that is partly why we need to talk with you."

"Is id agaidst the rules to be sig around here?" Malfoy scowled.

"No no, you haven't done anything wrong. In this instance. Mr. Malfoy, what was the medicine you were carrying that spilled on to Mr. Potter this morning?"

"Wad?"

"When you...ran into each other, earlier today," Dumbledore said meaningfully. Oh great. Now I'm in trouble for dueling. Fabulous. Potter is such a tattle tale.

"Malfoy, you're not in trouble for dueling, for God's sake, would you just answer the question!" Harry shouted, exasperated. Malfoy just narrowed his eyes.

Snape cleared his throat. "I have been providing Mr. Malfoy with a variety of medicaments recently to help stem the course of his illness, Headmaster. I assure you there was nothing illegal or dangerous about any of them." He is such a good liar. I would really like a piece of pie right now. Blueberry. With whipped cream. Mmmm whipped cream. "What is all this about?"

"Well," Dumbledore said slowly. "It appears that some of Mr. Malfoy's medicine got into Mr. Potter's ear. And...as a result..."

"Yes?" Snape asked, looking confused. There was an awkward silence. Is Potter going to die, or something? Why is Dumbledore so serious? What's going on? He looks fine to me. Snape was looking hard at Harry. "He seems find to me."

"Oh, Mr. Potter is fine," Dumbledore continued. "It's just that, Severus, whatever it was that was in that potion of yours," Mmmmm apple pie maybe. With ice cream. Yeah. Not that I could taste it, but I'd really like some. In bed. With a blanket and a fireplace. Why is it so freaking cold down here? So what's wrong with Potter? "It's allowed Mr. Potter to hear whatever Mr. Malfoy is thinking."

.....WHAT?! "WHAT?!"

Harry nodded at Malfoy. "Sorry. True."

Malfoys eyes grew large. He mouth dropped open. And then he sneezed. You've got to be kidding me. Oh my sinuses are killing me.

"I'm not kidding you."

This has got to be the single most embarrassing moment of my life. Except for that time when Pansy got hold of that picture of me with the shampoo horns.

"This is probably worse."

I was wearing a tu-tu.

"Oh. Perhaps not."

"Mr. Potter! Twenty points from Gryffindor for responding to Mr. Malfoy's thoughts!" Snape stormed toward the back of the class and began flinging roots and grasses and vials. "It's simply impossible, Albus, impossible! How could a combination of camphor, mint, hornet wings and royal jelly possibly turn into...Oh. Oh dear."

"Yes, Severus. That's what I feared."

What are they talking about? "Wad are you talkig about?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Royal jelly, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape sighed. "Naturally completely harmless, but when mixed with certain particles, in particular, leech juice, it becomes highly unstable and...eratic." Mmm jelly.

"Ah," Harry started. "And the first years were making-" Shrinking potions.

"Shrinking potions. Yes Mr. Potter." Oh God. "Yes, I appears that the particles of leech juice must have...managed to...get into-"

"My bedicine?" Draco shrieked. "You're poisoning be! By life is ruined because of YOU! Wait til by father hears about-"

"Now now, Mr. Malfoy, it was an honest mistake, we can certainly reverse the effects." Snape looked nervous, sorting through vials and flipping through a large book.

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "Yes. As I suspected. What shall we do to fix this problem?" Oh God please say there's an easy way to fix this I can't deal with this PISS OFF POTTER THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!

"I'm not doing it on purpose!" Harry whispered sharply. "You're the one who wanted to duel!" Right and when I said 'duel' I really meant please climb into my head and examine my most private thoughts.

Harry thought it might be pushing his luck to make a comment on the quality of Malfoy's private thoughts and simply snorted.

"Yes, yes, I'm certain there's, er, a way. Yes." Snape pulled out a brown jar and uncapped it. "Potter, come here." Hehehehee he said 'come'. "Now, let me try...THIS!" Snape shoved his finger into Harry's ear.

"OUCH!" Hahahahahhaaaaaaa! "Shut up, Malfoy!"

"I did't say anythig, Potty." You can't hold my thoughts against me, you cretin. Hmm. This could be more fun than I thought.

"Hmm. Clearly that didn't work. Malfoy, come here." Why does he have to do unpleasant things to ME? I'm the one suffering here! Ouch! I think I might have an ingrown toenail. Dammit.

"It's probably just your tight shoes," Harry pointed out, helpfully.

"Shud up!" Malfoy glared up at Snape as he very delicately touched some of the jelly to Malfoy's lip.

"Now, Mr. Potter, if you would-"

"HEY!" Draco spluttered. "Hold on." He paused for a moment or two, and Harry wondered if he was about to sneeze.

No, I’m not going to sneeze, you prat. I'm listening to you thinking about how nice my ass looks from this angle.

Harry gaped. "You're just making that up."

Draco smirked. "Abe not."

"Boys?" Dumbledore asked. "What's going on?"

"I cad hear Potter's thoughts now doo, Professor. Ad, fladdering as they are, I'd reedy radder not hear theb." He sneezed.

Yes, Potter. It does hurt. Want to laugh at me?

Harry didn't really want to laugh. He felt very uncomfortable and tried to think about nothing at all. But in the back of his mind he tried to remember if he had thought anything at all about Draco's backside. Since Draco managed to think about it every twenty seconds it was certainly hard to avoid.

Oh please. I don’t think about my bottom at all. Though you seem to think about it quite a lot.

"Oh dear." Snape paced up and down the classroom. "I need to research this. My my. Mr. Malfoy," Snape asked in a sickly sweet voice, "can we please hold off informing your father of this little misadventure until I have a moment to learn more about it?"

Yes I know. He's such a toadie. "Well," Draco looked skeptical. "Alride. May I go lie down now? I really don't feel at all well."

Thank you, Potter. But I didn't know you cared.

'What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?' Harry thought fervently.

You just thought that I looked very good in spite of being so sick.

'I did not!' Harry felt his stomach drop. 'I swear you're listening to someone else's thoughts. Maybe it's Snape.'

Ew. Please. No no, this feels just like Potter to me. You think I'm pretty, don't you. So sweet. Really, I appreciate the thought, but I don't swing that way. I'm all about the ladies.

"Yes, yes, go lie down, Mr. Malfoy, I sure you'll be feeling better shortly."

"Thang you." He huffed and was about to sulk out of the room when Dumbledore said softly,

"Do try to avoid...upsetting each other, boys."

Why Potter. I had no idea you had such a dirty mind. How do you get anything done during the day at all? Or does this only happen when you're in my presence?

Harry sat down at a desk in front of Dumbledore and buried his face in his hands. This could only go from bad to worse.

Oy, Potter. For the record, I am NOT that flexible, but you get points for creativity.

Make that much worse. 

3 

Dinner was atrocious. Harry and Malfoy spent the entire time bickering silently with each other, and Malfoy kept accusing Harry of visualizing him lying naked on the table with a pudding on his crotch.

'DON'T MAKE SHIT UP. This is hard enough as it is.'

Hard enough indeed, Potter. Too bad for you I like the ladies. But then, you do seem to have some nice ideas here about your friend Wea-

'SHUT UP, for God's sake! I'm going to throw up if you keep at it.' Draco snerked quietly for a moment and thought about pants, and how nice it was when they fit just right. Harry groaned a little as he discovered which side Draco hung to. He considered his pasta salad for a moment, and thought, 'Can you actually see things?'

Well, yes. Can't you?

'No. I can't only hear what you're thinking. I can't see what you imagine. DEEP IN THE RECESSES OF YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS.'

Is that what that is?

'I'D SAY SO.'

Oh calm down. It's very funny, really. I have blackmail material on you for years to come.

Wonderful, Harry thought. Just great. He was trying to focus on the fork in his hand and not on Draco's current rumination about his socks, and how nice they felt against his feet. He sighed and slumped in his seat.

"Harry?" Ron touched Harry's shoulder and he did his best not to flinch. WAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA!! Harry decided not to even ask what Draco had seen. "What's wrong? Is Malfoy giving you a hard time?"

He said 'hard'! HAHAHAHAHAAA! "It's okay, Ron. It just takes a little...getting used to."

*

That night, Harry couldn't sleep. Malfoy was thinking randomly about the weave of the curtains, the way particles kind of float around in the air when you can see into a stream of light at just the right angle, he wondered what the appendix was really for in the first place anyway, and he considered long and hard about which he preferred, apples, or oranges. I mean, it's really like comparing apples and oranges, isn't it.

'YES.' Harry had finally had enough. 'it is EXACTLY like comparing apples and oranges!'

Oh don't get snippy with me, Potter. Just because I don't sit around all day coming up with ways to screw you silly doesn't make you better than me.

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

Good lord, how can you not notice? I mean, come on. Think. Tonight while you were doing your homework, what you were thinking about?

'History. I was thinking about History.'

And?

'THERE IS NO AND.'

Potter. You spent the whole time thinking about your history essay and imaging me sitting between your legs licking your kneecaps. Does this ring a bell?

Harry felt ill. Strangely, it did remind him of something. He was thinking about how to word a paragraph about the troll revolts, and...why, yes indeed. There was Draco Malfoy, wearing nothing but a bit of gauze, lazily tracing his tongue along Harry's knee. For every paragraph he finished the gauze seemed to slip a little lower. Had he really thought that?

Yes. Yes you did. What's wrong with you, did you not get hugged enough as a child?

'I never got hugged as a child.'

Oh. Sorry.

'Yeah right.'

Hmm.

'What?'

You're just...making me randy.

'Oh God.'

Well, it's only natural! Linking up with a brain like yours. I thought the bit about McGonagall's desk was particularly inspired.

'OH GOD.'

Are you really that unaware?

'Yes. Yes I am.' He rolled over onto his side and pushed his face into the pillow. 'Is it always about you?"

Yes. Well, no. Not really. Mostly just when you see me, I guess. Or think about me. Which seems to be, well, all the time, pretty much. Though a few times when Weasley happened by you-"

'Oh God. Spare me. Please.'

I didn't know twins got up to that kind of thing, but I must say I'm intrigued.

'Well, you're no innocent. I heard your long diatribe about women's breasts.'

Oh.

'I don't think you're about the ladies at all, quite frankly.'

There is more to a woman than those strange wobbly bags of fat.

'Did someone not get breastfed enough as a infant?"

Shut up.

Harry groaned. This was impossible. How could he sleep with someone else in his head? He tried to think the purest possible thoughts. He thought about Snuffles, and how much he-

HARRY! My God! You think about family that way? I don't feel so special anymore!

'Now you really ARE making shit up.'

Okay, yes I am. You had it coming. Heheheheh I said 'coming'.

'Are you ten years old, or something?'

Hmph.

Harry eventually fell asleep trying very hard to deny that he could hear Malfoy using his own subsconciousness as a porn magazine in his own not-so-private wankfest. Mmmmmm. Maybe I am that flexible.

'DRACO. STOP IT. No wanking while we're connected like this, it's not...it's not ETHICAL.'

I could get that flexible if you were really prepared to do THAT!

'Draco!'

What, you want me to walk around with this? Please. I'm only taking care of my own health.

Harry feigned sleep until he felt Draco's brain shift into dreams, and then rolled over to take care of his own problem. When he was finished, he heard gales of laughter in his head. Potter. Oh Potter Potter Potter. You are one sick little puppy, you know that?

Harry concentrated on murderous thoughts until he fell asleep.

4

 No no no no no no NO! Get OFF ME! I WON'T!

Harry woke up with a start and sat straight up in bed. 'Draco? Draco, are you alright? What's going on?' He rubbed his forehead and was suddenly glad all of his conversations with Malfoy were conducted solely in his head.

Argh. Stupid Goyle. Trying to get me out of bed. I won't go. I'm too tired and too sick and I won't get up. No no no no no. I hurt, I hurt. My nose. My bottom. Ow.

'Argh. You scared me half to death. That not a good way to wake up.' He laid back down and curled up in his blankets. 'You and your bottom again.'

Mmph. Worried about me now, are you? Aww. That goes along so well with those sweet, sweet dreams about me.

'I did NOT dream about you.'

Oh yes you did. You were wooing me with flowers in front of the whole school. And you were naked. Because you thought it would impress me. Clearly you have overactive pride about your bits, Potter.

'Hmmph.'

Oooo. Nice visual. I must say, I am actually somewhat impressed, though you won't catch me admitting that out loud. Oh! Well, look at that. Yes, I suppose you do have something to be proud of. Though, that could be Longbottom's, or something. Harry snorted and conjured up another image. Oh. Oh dear. Well, that does explain rather a lot, doesn't it.

"Hey, Harry, you awake?" Ron poked his head through the curtains. Though I must at this point remind you that I am not interested in swishy boys, I am a woman's man. Many women, all at once, if possible. No matter how impressive your bits are.

"Yep, I'm awake, Ron. What's up?" Haahahaahahahaha!!!! You just can't look at that boy without thinking about things going up, can you, you little perv.

"I was just wondering how you were doing. Is Malfoy awake? Is he being an ass?" Yes, Potter, as we determined earlier, I have a very nice ass. Thank you once again for noticing.

"He's always an ass, Ron. Always." Hmph.

Harry tried to have the quickest shower possible to avoid Draco's inevitable commentary. Potter's grabbing his bits! Potter's grabbing his bits!

'I do need to wash properly, you dope. Go fondle yourself or something.'

I already am.

'Oh God.'

Do you always think this way about Colin Creevey? And does he really take photos like that?

'I'm going to ignore the first question, but yes to the second. He hid in the girls' locker room once and took a kinds of pictures. But don't tell anyone. My God they'd kill us all, and you don't want Quidditch chicks on your ass.'

Hehehheheheehehe you might.

'Not that you'd be interested in boob-shots anyway. You're all about the boys, I know how it goes.'

You wish.

Malfoy wasn't at breakfast at all. Harry thought he might be able to cope with him half-asleep most of the day and only mildly haranguing him in between long considerations on the design of tea cups and toast toppings and the wonders of flannel pajamas, but when Snape cornered him before potions and told him that he would be responsible for ensuring that Malfoy understood the entire lesson his jaw dropped.

"What, sir?"

"You heard me. Mr. Malfoy is unwell, and since he can hear your thoughts, you must pay attention close attention to the lesson so that he can still attend class today from his bed." Hahahahaa! Now this is service. My blanket, breakfast in bed, a lot of tissues, a hot water bottle, complete privacy, and thee. Attending class for me. YES! "Mr. Malfoy?" Snape leaned toward Harry's ear and shouted, "Can you hear me?"

HAHAHAHAHAA!! Make him stop! I can't laugh this much, it hurts! "He can hear you just fine, sir." Harry rubbed his ear. "I don't think he likes this arrangement, though. He'd like to come to class himself."

Don't you go screwing up my good thing, Potter, or I'll- "Nonsense! Mr. Malfoy is far too ill to get out of bed today. It will be trying enough on him this afternoon when we cure you both of this, er, unfortunate situation."

'Great!'

Wonderful.

"Now, pay careful attention, and ask whatever questions Mr. Malfoy has for him. Do you understand?" When was the last time you got laid, sir?

"Yes, sir. I understand." Why do you always smell like mothballs? Hehehehehee I said 'balls'.

"Any questions he has, Mr. Potter. I realize potions is not your best subject, but even if you don't understand the question, I'd like you to ask it."

Have you ever slept with a student? Have you ever worn women's underwear? Is Lord Voldemort gay, or is that just a rumour?

"Yes, sir. I will be sure to do so."

5

Potions class was painful. Between bouts of Malfoy's ridiculous questions which Harry absolutely refused to acknowledge (Professor Snape? Were you dropped on your head as a child?), Malfoy had decided to keep a tally of Harry's thoughts about everyone in class.

Millicent Bulstrode: frightening, ogre of a girl you'd be afraid to meet in a dark alley without your wand and a hoard of your friends. Fair enough. Oooo you also wonder if she could accidentally kill a man in the wrong sexual position. Ouch, I could do without that image, Potter. Harry sniggered and stirred his cauldron.

Hermione Granger. Friend. Trustworthy, know-it-all, a bit annoying. With you there, yes indeed. You think she has a crush on Weasley and you'd rather not imagine her with no clothes on. Unless she's with...Wow, Potter. Susan Bones? I might have tried harder to be your friend if I knew you thought like this.

"Hellooooo Harry," said a milky voice next to him. Harry jumped, felt a warm hand on his arm, and turned. He smiled.

"Hi, Pansy."

"Harry, darling, you look so tired. I'm sure Draco is being difficult. Snape should let you go have a rest."

Harry sighed. "That would be nice. He's quite a prat at the best of times."

She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Poor Harry. You're so brave." She looked up and saw Snape glaring at her. "See you later," she whispered, and winked.

Ooo you fancy her, Potter! And, for the record, yes, she will do that. Eagerly.

'She asked me to go out with her next weekend. I thought I'd take her to Honeyduke's.' Harry blushed.

Oh. How very original of you, Potter I shouldn't tell you that asking you for a date was just a dare she was put up to.

'What?' Harry blushed even harder. 'Is that so. And how, precisely, would you know about that?'

I might have dared her to do it. Alright, so moving right along...Blaise Zabini. You think...are you kidding me?

'We're not really sure! I mean, look at...it....'

How can you...I mean...you're not sure...if Blaise is a boy or a girl? Are you all mad? I think Gryffindors must be missing a chromosome. That is so obvious I'm not even going to deign to give it an answer. Seamus Finnigan! That little Irish teaser. Ooo you did NOT!

'I was a bit drunk at the time.'

Bad kisser, eh?

'Very. I thought he was aiming to suck my tongue right out of my head.'

Hmmm. And you say you're not a poof. Poof is in the pudding, I always say. Hahahaha! In the pudding! And there I am again, pudding on my crotch. Once again, I feel the need to remind you that, while you have several attractive qualities, the presence of a dick between your legs does mean you aren't on my list of possibilities. Try to bear that in mind.

Just then, Crabbe stormed past Harry's desk and knocked his potions textbook onto the floor. Vincent Crabbe. He has an undescended testicle, you know.

'I am so glad I can't get visuals from you.' Harry leaned down and picked up the book.

Strangest thing I've ever seen. You think his name sounds like a sexually transmitted disease, well, good for you. That's probably the wittiest thought you'd have so far. And Gregory Goyle...no. Ginny Weasley has a crush on him?

'Oh God, please don't tell. It's a nightmare.'

She's far too bright for him, anyway. He needs to date a retarded chimp.

"Mr. Potter," Snape tapped his wand against the desk in front of Harry. "You are paying attention, are you not?" Potter spent the entire time wondering what you must look like naked, sir. But don't worry, not in a lustful way. In a disgusted way.

"Yes, sir." He looked down into his cauldron, hoping to ward off any more questions.

"And Mr. Malfoy is satisfied with what's he's understood of the lesson?" I'd like to know more about aphrodisiacs, sir. What do you use to get it up? A sling?

"I believe so, sir. He's feeling quite weak." Harry stirred the cauldron a little to vigorously. 'And would be feeling a lot weaker if I could just restrict his airway.' Oh shush. You poof. You'd enjoy that way too much.

"Ah yes. Poor Mr. Malfoy. I do hope he's FEELING BETTER SOON." Snape shouted this last part into Harry's ear. "and Mr. Malfoy?" he continued. Yes, darling? "Before dinner, in the Potions classroom, I will attempt to relieve you of this monstrous growth you have inadvertently developed." Snape gave Harry a rather nasty look. "You, also, Mr. Potter, will be required to be present."

Has he forgotten that this is his fault? He's so lucky I don't feel like writing to my father. So lucky.

"Yes sir," Harry said to Snape. "We understand." Snape shot him another glare and then shouted, "DO GET SOME REST, MR. MALFOY."

WILL DO, PUMPKIN!

'And why don't you want to write to your father?'

My experimentation-- and that's all it was, mind you-- with the gardener's son over the holidays, and my father's extreme overreaction to it, is really none of your business, Potter.

'I really, truly wish it weren't.'

It's perfectly natural.

'In BIZARRO land!'

Who the hell is that? Bizarro? Does he work for the Ministry? My father will have him fired if he said ANYTHING untoward about me. Ow, my head, my head. I'm almost out of tissues. My feet are cold. Potter, you should come rub my feet. That might make me feel better. Tell Snape if he orders you to rub my feet I won't write to my father.

'What about your bottom? Isn't that sore as well?"

You want to rub my bottom? You are completely obsessed with my bottom, Potter. I didn't realize you were such an ass man.

"Harry?" Ron asked, looking concerned. "You alright?" Tell him you're just constipated, Harry. Why is he so concerned about you all the time? Why does no one ask about ME? I'm the one SUFFERING through your DISGUSTING thoughts all day. And I've also got a terrible case of the flu, IN CASE ANYONE HADN'T NOTICED. AND I JUST SNEEZED ALL OVER MY CHEST.

"I'm okay, Ron, really." Harry made a face. "If you thought Malfoy was bad in the flesh, you should hear what's he's like in your head." I'm hurt, Harry. Truly hurt. Harry wondered for a moment if he actually was hurt. Malfoy said nothing for a while.

Through Herbology class, Malfoy pondered the near-watery quality of the mucus running out of his nose, thought about benefits and drawbacks of underpants, sang a song to himself about horsies and little mister Draco that Harry presumed his mother made up for him, and finally fell asleep. This was a relief until he started to dream about Harry rubbing his bottom as he lay in a field of daisies, and by half way through the afternoon Harry regretted the fact that he spoke English at all.

Oooo yes, Potter, just like that. That third hand of yours sure is handy. Harry stared at the plot of daisies he was fertilizing and felt ill.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered. "Are you alright?" What's she doing here? Go away Mudblood bunny, go away. My bottom feels nice. A daisy crown, for me? Harry, you're so sweet.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Just...a little frightened by Malfoy's dreams at the moment." What's that? You want me to roll over so you can massage my...Oh, Harry, what a lovely dress you're wearing! "I can't tell if he's actually dreaming or just screwing with me."

Screwing? What a good idea. Hermione looked worried, shifted closer to him and whispered, "I did some reading last night."

Harry, rather testy after hours of references to Malfoy's bottom, almost responded with a Malfoyesque 'what a surprise,' but bit back the temptation. This connection to Malfoy was more dangerous than he thought.

Hermione didn't seem to notice his struggle, and went on. "I remembered that there was a strange connection between Royal Jelly and neurological phenomena. I read it once ages ago, and looked it up again."

Urgh. Your Mudblood's impure voice woke me up, Potter. I blame you. Hermione pulled out her notebook and put it along side the plot of daisies for Harry to look at. Bleh, I feel all clammy. My nose hurts. I hate you, Potter.

"You see this here?" Hermione said, pointing into the notebook.

Well, I don't actually hate you. Harry looked, but couldn't make heads or tails of Hermione's fast and furious handwriting.

'What do you mean you don't hate me? You DO hate me. You've always hated me. Even when you think I want to rub your bottom.'

No, you've always hated ME. The bottom-rubbing is neither here nor there, but doesn't sound like a bad idea at all. "I was reading through that old book on mind diseases I got out of the library last week for my history essay," Hermione said. He nodded and tried to look as engaged as possible, squinting hopelessly at her very tightly-packed lines of notes.

'Of course I hate you, Malfoy. I'm supposed to hate you. You're evil.' Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "Go on."

I am NOT evil and I resent the implication, while being strangely attracted to you when you say things like that. Did your Mudblood friend find us a cure, or what?

"I think," Hermione said slowly, "I may have found a cure."

They couldn't test out Hermione's cure before running into Snape, who had informed Dumbledore that the whole mess would be sorted out shortly, as he had discovered his mistake and would right it immediately. Hermione looked crestfallen as Snape ushered Harry into the potions classroom as a very tired and very sick-looking Malfoy shuffled in after them. He slammed the door shut on her worried-looking face and stormed over to a boiling cauldron on his desk.

Ow ow ow ow ow all my skin hurts, I am one walking ball of hurt. Pity me. He sneezed. Ouch. That was a juicy one. "Alride," Malfoy said, wiping his nose with a handkerchief. "Leth ged dis ober wid." Harry thought he sounded even worse than yesterday.

I feel worse than yesterday.

'Well, just leave the talking up to me. You're barely comprehensible.'

My hero.

"I have done some research and determined that the best course of action is for both of you to look at each other and drink this," he ladled out two cups of a purplish potion and handed one to each of them. Potter, I'm glad you still find me sexy like this, but I'd appreciate it if you can keep your mind on the task at hand. I don't want you screwing this up. Heehehehheheheee I said 'screwing'. "On the count of three, drink. Remember, eyes on each other!"

Well, Potter's eyes are a lovely shade of green. I do love that 'just-got-out-of-bed look he's sporting, too. Much cuter than the gardener's son.

'Oh, am I?'

Mind your own business, ass man.

One, two, three!"

Harry drank, watching Malfoy drinking as best he could. When he was done he put the cup down beside him and looked directly into Malfoy's eyes.

They both shivered a little, and then Malfoy grabbed his stomach, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. POTTER, CLOSE YOUR EYES!

'What?'

JUST DO IT. PLEASE. CLOSE YOUR-

Malfoy leaned forward, grabbed Harry's shoulder and collapsed into him, unconscious.

"If he writes to his father," Snape whispered in a panic, "I might have a cry." He straightened himself up and said sharply, "Ten points from Gryffindor for eavesdropping on a professor."

"Terrific," Harry said. 

6

 Harry felt Malfoy wake up before he heard him think anything. He felt him rise up out of a drug-induced sleep, his limbs feeling heavy and his head aching, he could feel the sneeze that exploded out of him and shattered his last vestiges of sleep. Ever since Malfoy collapsed in his arms in the Potions classroom Harry had felt something different. Like he had two sets of skin, his usual one and the echo of Malfoy's hovering at the edge of his consciousness. Whatever Snape had done, he had increased Harry's connection to Malfoy about a millionfold.

It was hard not to feel sorry for Malfoy this way. Harry could feel his very sore skin, his stuffy nose, his cold feet. He could feel his laboured breathing, the pounding in his head, the waves of surreal and painful dreams, his shivering. He could even feel his dry and sore eyes opening as he woke up. For the sake of courtesy Harry decided to ignore the extended fantasy Draco woke up having about himself, Harry, three mirrors, a set of chopsticks, chocolate sauce, and an entire chorus line.

Potter?

'Are you okay?' He could feel the pressure around Draco's lungs, his unsettled stomach, his sore throat, but was glad that Malfoy had finally woken up. Snape would be thrilled, right up until Draco started yelling and threatening to write to his father again.

No. I'm really not okay. Snape is a bastard. Where I am?

'Hospital wing. You fainted.'

Yes, I seem to remember that part. Ow my head. What the hell did Snape do to me? You have no idea, Potter, I thought my brain was about to explode.

'They have no clue why it keeps getting worse.' Harry looked up at the staff table and saw Snape looking pale and worried, jabbing his fork into his potatoes with his elbows on the table. 'Snape's in a state.'

Well, he should be. He might have killed me, and that would not have gone over well at Malfoy Manor, let me tell you. I'd write to my father over this but I don't think I can. I feel too weak. You might have to write to my father for me. Get a quill. Dear Father...

'....I rather fancy Harry Potter, and I would like your permission to shag him senseless. Just like I did the gardener's son.'

You bastard. Ugh. Everything hurts.

'Yeah, I can tell. I told Madame Pomfrey to give you some kind of pain killer, but she said it wouldn't be wise until you woke up.'

How do you know? Oh, ow, remind me not to try to roll over. Ouch ouch ouch.

Harry winced. Draco's entire left side was aching and felt raw. 'I don't know. Whatever Snape did, I can feel stuff now. I can feel...whatever you feel.'

Hmm. Really? Can you feel...this?

'Can't keep your hands out of your pants for more than three minutes at a time, can you.'

Hold on. This isn't fair. You're eating my favourite dinner.

Harry put down his fork and looked down into his plate of steak and potatoes. 'Can you see it?'

Yes. I can also taste it. Potter, I can now see through your eyes, taste through your mouth, and hear whatever you hear. It's quite disconcerting. But I must say, you have a better view from the Gryffindor table. Of the Slytherin table, of course.

'Um...you can see...everything?'

Oh relax. What more can I possibly find out about you? I already know you fancy me. And Weasley. And Susan Bones. And Pansy Parkinson. Among others I'm too tired to recite. Now I'll just be able to see you prancing around naked, too. What's the difference? Hmmm I can feel your...wow, I can feel everything. Touch your scar, I want to feel that too.

'What?'

Oh come on. Just do it. Oooooo that's so cool. It's such a classy scar. It's got that whole on-the-brink-of-death feel to it. So sexy.

'Please, please, please...'

Potter, you can be in denial all you like, but when you have access to the mind and body of someone with a mad screaming crush on you, you just can't pretend you don't notice. It's kind of a turn on.

'I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON-'

Really? When I think about, hmm, let's say, this, Malfoy thought about himself in a rather compromising position, do we get a reaction? Why, yes we do. Quite a firm one, at that.

'This is so unfair.'

Unfair? I'm the one lying in the hospital wing with snot running out of my nose. You've just got an erection at the dinner table. Don't even talk to me about fair.

Harry put his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. "We've got to find a way out of this, or they're going to have to cart me off the St. Mungo's."

"Did ferret-boy wake up finally?" Ron asked. Good lord, can't he learn not to speak with his mouth full? That's disgusting. Was he born in a barn? Oh, what am I thinking, of course he was. Why is there nothing near this bed that I can break in a fit of childish frustration?

"Yes, he's awake, Ron. And he's in an insufferable mood." Harry pushed back his plate. Hey! At least eat the rest of that while I'm conscious. Selfish prick.

Hermione patted his shoulder. "I think I can help, Harry," she said. "Let's go up to the hospital wing after dinner, we can say we're visiting. We'll bring chocolate and things. And then I can fix this."

After dinner, Ron, Hermione, and Harry went to visit Malfoy in the Hospital wing. Close your eyes before you get in here, Potter, or I really will pass out again. I want shoes like yours. Yours are very comfy. I can't believe you're a boxers man, how do you stand that? Harry grabbed a bandage on their way in and wrapped it around his eyes just as then entered the wing Malfoy was housed in. Good thinking. I must be rubbing off on you.

'Don't push your luck.' Harry tied the bandage around the back of his head. Your bottom is itchy. Or is that mine?

"Harry?" Ron asked. "What are you doing that for?"

"It's to keep Malfoy from passing out again, Ron, don't you pay attention?" Well, maybe that girl isn't all bad. Aw, Potter, is that pity and concern I feel from you? For me? I'm touched, I really am. And, you know, I rather enjoy your bottom, too. So there. We're even.

Hermione lead the way in, holding Harry's hand and keeping him clear of any obstructions as they walked toward Malfoy's bed. She's holding your hand, Potter. I'm jealous.

'You really are, aren't you. I'm shocked. Why on earth would you be jealous?' Hermione pushed on his shoulders and he found himself sitting down on what he assumed was a hospital bed. You'd never let me get away with that.

'That's quite true. Now, stop thinking about shagging me for one second and concentrate. Hermione can help us.'

"Malfoy?" Hermione said, sitting down next to Harry. He figured they must be sitting on the bed beside him.

You'd think at this point I would warrant a first name. Sheesh. "Yeth?"

"It's, um, it's us, Harry, and Ron and I-"

HAAHAHAHAHAAHHA! "Ibe not blide, you know. I did wadch you walk id."

"There's a cure I'd like to try."

"Pleath," Malfoy said. "Pleath fire away. If you bake be eddy worse I will have to kill you, bud Ibe sure everyone here can underthand thad."

Hermione froze.

"That was a joke," Harry noted, helpfully. Your friends are so lame, Potter. "Every time Snape tries to cure us it only gets worse."

"Well, I'm not Snape," Hermione said curtly. "Now. Let me see."

Oh God my head. Potter, I'm really in a lot of pain here.

'I know.'

It's not your fault. It's Snape's fault. And I'm really very sick.

'I know. I'm sorry. I'm not making things any better.'

No no. You're just...my other body. He felt Draco smile. My other, lithe, strong, muscular, sexy body, just waiting for me to reach over and-

"Alright. Now." Harry heard Hermione pull out some scraps of notes from her pocket. She muttered something under her breath and Harry heard the zing of her wand slicing through the air. There was a flash of light and Draco screamed. A searing pain shot down his back and into his legs, or into Draco's legs, Harry wasn't sure. Oh hell. Just what I needed. Fucking mudbloods. He felt Hermione touching one of them on the arm as he blacked out.

7 

There was a gurgle. Harry thought it might have come from Draco, but he wasn't entirely certain. He opened his eyes and everything was blurry.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione sounded as though she'd been crying. Mmph. Go away Mrs. Tiggywinkle. I want to have my scones. Draco was clearly still passed out cold, and Harry couldn't figure out where he was. He was lying on something soft, and there was something very warm on top of him. When it shifted a little Harry realized the warm thing was Draco.

"Mr. Potter." Snape sounded annoyed to the extreme. "Please do wake up."

"I'm awake." No. Don't take away my tea, you scabby-faced rat-woman. "Draco is not, but I am. What happened?"

"You know very well what happened, Mr. Potter. I must say I'm not surprised. I should have used a protection charm on Mr. Malfoy rather than give you and your ridiculous friends a chance to have at him." Urgh. Potter. Make it stop. I don't want to go to breakfast. I want to stay here. With you. And Mrs. Tiggywinkle. And your fine array of transparent underpants.

Harry groaned. Hermione slipped his glasses into his hand, and he shoved them onto his face. Snape continued. "Miss Granger has explained to me what she attempted to do and I'm appalled. Utterly appalled. One hundred points from Gryffindor for presuming to be able to do something I cannot." It's not stopping, Potter. The annoying voice is still there. Rub my belly, that will make it go away. Hermione looked crestfallen. Harry could only imagine the stern talking to she'd received before he woke up. "Miss Granger has received three weeks' worth of detention for her cheek, and you, Mr. Potter, will be severely punished as well. As soon as this...this mess is sorted out." Snape sniffed.

"What exactly happened?" Harry said fuzzily, noting that he was now lying on Draco's bed in the hospital wing, with Draco partially draped on top of him. At that precise moment Draco was nuzzling into Harry's bare shoulder. He wondered idly at what point he became half-naked, and suddenly felt a bit self-conscious with Snape looking down on him like this.

"Your silly friend here," Snape spat, "tried to use a common separating spell. Foolish girl. She had no idea what she was dealing with. A separating spell! As if we didn't already think of that and dismiss it. I'm horrified to think that after six years of instruction any student would-" WHO IS DOING ALL THIS SQUEALING?

Draco groaned loudly and rolled off Harry.

"No!" Hermione shouted. "Don't!"

For a split second Harry wondered what all the fuss was about. Don't what? He had kept his hands to himself, more or less, except stroking Draco's lower back only the tiniest bit, and Hermione couldn't possibly have seen that under the blankets. He hadn't been conscious long enough to piece together exactly why Snape and Hermione would be watching him and Draco ostensibly cuddling half-naked on a bed in the hospital wing, and he couldn't fathom what Hermione didn't want them to do that they weren't already doing the moment before. But in the next second all he could think about was the pain in his arms, his legs, and his head, rocketing through his spine and into his fingers. They both screamed. I MUST BE IN HELL. THERE ARE NO BATHROOMS AND EVERYTHING HURTS.

Suddenly Snape and Hermione were on either side of the bed, shoving them back together. Draco's head landed back on Harry's shoulder and the pain subsided.

"Don't move, either of you, you have to be touching!" Hermione hissed. Her eyes were full of tears.

Draco whimpered. Potter, what's going on?

'Apparently,' Harry sighed, 'Things just got worse.'

Madame Pomfrey tut-tutted and made the bed only slightly larger. "I'm sorry boys," she said. "But you appear to have gotten into this mess all by yourselves and you'll have to deal with the consequences. We'll have a big meeting in the morning with all the professors to see what can be done. For now...sleep well!" She grinned at them. "Would you like me to strap you together, or can you keep in skin-to-skin contact on your own?" Harry thought she seemed way too amused about this entire situation.

"Doeth id not theem evend the thlightest bid strange to anyone elth that profethors are encourajig two horbonally charged teenagers to sleep together dearly daked?" Draco asked innocently.

Snape's eyebrows rose nearly to his receding hairline. "Mr. Malfoy. In case you hadn't noticed, Mr. Potter is a boy, and therefore there is nothing untoward or hormonal going on here at all. Surely there is nothing more wholesome than two teenaged boys in one bed together."

Hermione and Madame Pomfrey looked at each other. Draco and Harry looked at each other. Everyone avoided looking at Professor Snape.

"What?" Snape asked, exasperated.

Oh my God. And here I thought you were the naive one, Potter.

'For some reason, I find it all quite reassuring, really. Perhaps I too can live in Snape's fantasy land.'

I'm sure you DO live in Snape's fantasy land, Potter. Picking daisies and wiggling your ripe teenaged bottom at him.

'I think you've mistaken Snape's fantasy land for yours, Draco.'

Hermione leaned toward Harry and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she said, choking back tears. Grrr. Jealous jealous jealous.

"It's okay, Hermione. I know you did your best. We'll work something out." Hmm...yes, we can work something out. Like my sexual frustration. Hermione and Snape filed out of the room, followed by a rather amused-looking Madame Pomfrey. "I know for a fact," Snape was muttering to himself as he closed the door behind him, "that Lupin and Black often shared a bed together when we were at school, there was nothing untoward in that..."

Hmm. So...we have to...be touching each other, eh, Potter?

'Apparently.'

Too bad I'm so sick.

'My saving grace.'

Well, shove over a little. I'm nearly falling off the bed.

'You've got three quarters of the bed AND you're lying on top of me.'

Well, I like my space.

Harry sighed. 'Something tells me this is going to be a very long night.'

8

 Harry woke up in the middle of the night, immediately aware that Draco was awake already. Harry wasn't sure what woke him; it wasn't Draco's thoughts, which were listless and a little sad, but mostly just comfortable and warm and completely non-verbal for a change. Harry's bare chest was pressed up against Draco's back and his arms, both of them, were wrapped around Draco. His right arm was trapped under Draco's neck, acting as a makeshift pillow, and was only slightly asleep. His left arm was draped across Draco's waist, bent at the elbow and tucked against Draco's stomach. His left hand was pressed against Draco's chest, which rose evenly and slowly as if he were pretending to sleep. Draco's hand resting lightly over Harry's.

Don't say anything, Potter.

'What?'

What did I just tell you? Say nothing. You'll spoil the moment.

'Are we having a moment?'

Well. That's done it. There it is. Spoiled. I hope you're proud of yourself. Draco untangled himself from Harry's arms and turned over onto his back, careful to keep one leg pressed against Harry's. Ouch ouch ouch ouch.

'That's one bad bout of the flu you've got.' The skin on Draco's back was incredibly sensitive; probably, Harry reasoned, the result of his low-grade fever.

Your observational skills astound me. Harry retrieved his arm from under Draco's neck and used it to prop up his head.

'Your nose seems less stuffed up, though.' He could just barely make out Draco's face in the moonlight. 'You can sort of breathe through it now, at least.'

It's always better at night. Wait til the morning. That will be a fun show. He coughed and turned his face away.

'I don't actually enjoy seeing you suffer, you know.'

Could have fooled me.

'Come on.'

Yes, well. Your concern is touching. I have no idea what to do with it. Perhaps you should go back to the endless stream of graphic sexual images that keep me so entertained in my confinement. Ooo yes. Just like that. Porn on command. This is better than PlayWizard centrefolds. Harry moved to swat at him, but ended up just laying his hand against Draco's chest again.

Draco looked back at Harry's face. That feels odd, doesn't it.

'What?'

Feeling me feeling you like that. Don't you think?

'You know, not really so odd at all. It feels kind of...I don't know.'

Natural?

'Yeah, actually.'

Weird. That's what's so odd about it, really. Draco lay his hand against Harry's for a moment, and then guided it down across his stomach to his navel, and then back up again.

'Ooooh.'

Yeah.

Harry tried this again, and shivered a little at the ghost touch he could feel echoed against his own skin. Draco let Harry's hand wander on its own and reached up to rub his thumb along Harry's scar. So sexy. Why haven't I tried this before? Harry could feel it too, his own scar under Draco's fingers and Draco's fingers against him, he felt Draco's breathing under his hand, fingers skittering over his stomach, Draco's stomach, brushing the skin under his navel. Oh. Yes. Don't stop. That feels very nice. Does it feel nice for you?

'Yes.'

Harry dragged his palm along Draco's ribs, felt Draco's fingers slip into his hair, and buried his face in Draco's neck.

Ooooh. You just kissed me.

'Is this a problem?'

Well, thinking about it is one thing. I just didn't think you'd actually do it.

'Why not?'

I think a brief recap of our personal history would suffice to explain. Ooo, yes, that's very nice. Very nice indeed. Such nimble fingers you have, Potter. Hmm. You have kissed me again. Clearly personal histories mean nothing to you. Either that or I have a completely irresistible neck.

'It could be that.'

Oooh. Harry's fingers slid just beneath the waistband of Draco's underpants. Oh! Oh my my. I REALLY didn't think you'd do THAT. Harry chuckled. Well, when you put it that way, personal histories mean nothing to me, either. My Potter, you are persuasive. Ooooooo my stars. Clearly you have a lot of practice doing this.

'Oh shut up.'

Oh oh oh oh oh yes that's nice. Wow. I bet it's that Weasley, isn't it. Oooooo I'm so jealous of him. Why does he get all the nice things when I can afford to pay for them? And I'm so much prettier than him. Mmmmmm oh yes, Harry. Like that.

'Ron and I don't do this. Well, not anymore.'

JEALOUS JEALOUS JEALOUS ooooo yes oh God. That Weasel bastard doesn't deserve this as much as I DO.

'Well, we were just kids back then, it wasn't, you know, a big deal.'

Mmmmm this is a big deal, right? Well, you've got your hand wrapped around it, I hardly need to underscore the 'big'.

'Hahahaha.'

Oooooh. You can feel that, can't you.

'Oh yes.'

Oh my God hold on I'm...OH. Ahhhh. Wow. Draco was panting into Harry's hair. He shifted slightly and kissed Harry's scar. Wow.

'Somehow I thought it would last longer.'

HEY. I'm SICK. I have the testicular fortitude of a well-hung ox, I'll have you know. This is hardly representative.

'Uh huh.'

IT'S TRUE. Come on, this is incredibly sexy, don't tell me you'd do so much better. Draco shoved Harry onto his back and rolled on top of him. Yeah, you're all talk, Big Man. He hesitated for a moment (My God, what would my mother say?) and then leaned down and kissed Harry on the lips.

Harry was certain that the earth had moved. A second later he realized that it was only the bedframe. Well, it's not the sturdiest thing in the world, Draco considered as Harry opened his mouth. Mmmmmm Potter.

Moments later Harry thought the earth had really moved this time, and that he had left his toes in an electrical outlet. And then suddenly he realized that he felt very lonely, very empty, and cold. Draco sat up and looked down at him. Harry looked up. Draco's chest was heaving and there were no extra thoughts in his head at all.

"Draco?" Harry said.

"Yeah." He sounded stuffy still. And sad.

"I can't, uh..."

"Its over. We're cured." He climbed off Harry and thumped down on the bed beside him. "Whad happeds if we're not touchig?"

Harry shifted to one side of the bed, feeling completely alone for the first time in two days. No pain, nothing.

"Hmm. We cured ourselves, I guess. Somehow I dode think Snape would have ever guessed THAT cure."

"Probably not." The silence around their words was oppressive. Neither of them moved any closer. After ten minutes Harry was certain he felt Draco fall asleep, and he turned onto his side away from him. After all those years in a closet, thinking he didn't have a friend in the world, he had never felt so alone and so deserted in his life. After a little while he fell sleep to the sound of Draco's even breathing.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Snape boomed. Both of them nearly jumped off the bed in shock. An excited and self-impressed Snape standing at the foot of the bed was not a good alarm clock. "I have discovered the cure!" Before he had even noticed that Harry and Draco were no longer touching each other, Snape had begun waving his wand and reciting some strange incantation.

"Professor Sn-" Draco started, but it was too late. There was a blinding flash of white and a puff of pink smoke. Draco coughed.

"Well?" Snape asked, clutching at his wand apprehensively. "Are you better now? Did that work?"

Harry and Draco blinked and looked at each other. Draco sniffed, and then beamed up at professor Snape.

"Ah, FINALLY! Well done, Professor!" he said in a remarkably clear voice. "I think you've finally found the cure for my flu."

Epilogue

 Harry was trying very hard to sleep, but it was not working. Everyone was very pleased that a cure had been found and he and Malfoy were no longer connected at the brain. Ron gave him a hug, Hermione wept a little into her dinner, still horrified that she hadn't managed to come up with the cure herself.

It was generally assumed that Snape had done it, of course. Especially by Snape himself. He was poncing around like a prize fighter, asking for seconds on everything, particularly dessert. He reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart and he felt a little sick to his stomach. Neither he nor Malfoy were tempted to explain how the cure had actually happened, and Harry hoped no one would examine the details too closely. Harry was completely embarrassed and shocked at himself. As Malfoy had said, thinking about it was one thing. Actually doing it was quite another. Harry pondered his fingernails and tried not to think about it in any case.

Everyone was pleased. Even Malfoy looked smug, and raised an eyebrow at him across the Great Hall. Harry felt tired and lonely and morose but couldn't really explain why and certainly didn't relish the idea of anyone noticing, least of all Malfoy. He smiled and laughed with Ron and put an arm around Hermione. "You did your best," he said. "How were you to know? No harm done." She sniffled and thanked him. When he looked up Malfoy had turned away.

Harry looked up at the ceiling. His bed felt very comfortable, he was sleepy, but his eyes were plastered open. There was an ache in his heart that he wasn't comfortable acknowledging. How could he miss all those ridiculous thoughts? The constant yammering? The teasing? Someone else witnessing thoughts he didn't even know he had?

He was shocked when he felt the mattress move a little and lean to the right. Someone had just crawled through his curtains and was sitting on his bed.

"Malfoy," Harry hissed in the dark, unable to mistake that shock of blond hair even in the near dark. "How did you get in here?"

"Oh, come on Potter." He pulled off his shoes and lay down next to Harry, looking up at the ceiling with him. "One can hardly live in someone's head for two days without discovering their house password."

"Oh. Right," Harry stammered. They stared at the ceiling together in a moment of tense silence.

"What are you doing here, then?" Harry whispered.

"You missed me," Malfoy whispered back.

Harry sat straight up and nearly screeched. "How did you know? Did the telepathy come back?"

Malfoy chuckled. "No." He pulled Harry down on top of him and kissed him. "I just guessed."

"Bastard."

"Mmph. I love it when I'm right. Wait, I'm always right."

"Testicular fortitude, my ass."

"That reminds me."

"Yes?"

"Something about you, me, a lubrication charm, an eagle feather, an McGonagall's desk..."