Author: FerretMalfoy

Rating: Eventually a nice, familial R or NC-17.

Notes: Plot totally stolen from an episode of Charmed, but has some twists to it. :) And I got the title from listening to Pink Floyd's 'The Wall' way to much. It's from the song 'Nobody Home' Definition: second sight-noun-apparent power to perceive things that are not present to the senses

Summary: Due to a freak accident during Potions, Draco gains the ability of being an Empath. The catch is that he can't handle the power and Harry must help him or he will go insane or even die. Life can be so complicated for my favorite boys. Set during their seventh year.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. If I did, I could make all the little gay boys in the books come out of the closet and the series would quickly turn into one big lovefest. But I don't own it, so don't get your hopes up. :) And I don't own the Cheshire Cat or Kodak.

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Chapter One

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Pain. Anger. Happiness. Elation. Contentment. Boredom. Fear. Depression. Confusion. Amusement. Hatred. Lust.

Draco screamed and fell to the cold floor of the potions classroom, dropping the vial of what was supposed to be the Disorientation Potion. He covered his head trying to prevent the onlsaught of thoughts and emotions that crashed through his head.

Harry Potter, his lab partner, was instantly beside him, shoving his dislike for the Slytherin into the back of his mind.

"What did you do to him, Potter?" Snape asked, rushing to his favorite student's side and attempting to restrain the flailing and now-whimpering boy. Draco pulled away from the professor's strong arms, screaming in agony.

"Don't touch me!" the blond screamed. "It hurts! It all hurts. STOP! Stop thinking, feeling. I can hear you!"

"Draco, please, are you-"

"No." Draco backed up into a corner of the cold dungeon room, putting his arms over his head and shutting his eyes. He was breathing heavily, trying desparately not to hypervenalate.

"Pain. Pain. Pain." He clenched his teeth then let out another yell. Every glass container in the Potions classroom exploded, splashing the contents onto the robes of the students.

Harry looked on in confusion. What was wrong with his enemy? It wasn't anything visible. Everyone evacuated the room except for Snape and Harry.

"Malfoy?" Harry ventured. He was supposed to be a hero, right? Surely he could help this wreck of a boy that sat huddled in front of him.

No response.

"Draco?"

"Leave." Was the reply from the upset boy.

"But I-"

"Not you, Potter. Severus. Leave, Severus."

"Draco, I need to help you," said the extremely worried Snape (Draco was like a nephew to him).

"You can help me by leaving. I can't bear your sadness and your suffering. Even your anxiety is affecting me. Please go before it gets worse." Professor Snape looked to the Gryffindor and then to the Slytherin once more. In spite of his best instincts, the head of Slytherin house nodded, and left.

"I'll be right outside the door, Potter, if anything happens. And if you do anything to him, so help me..." He left the threat in the air before making his exit.

"Draco, are you alright now?" Harry crouched down to look the blond in the face, wondering why Draco could only bear to have him in the room. Draco shook his head in the negative, looking at Harry with teary eyes. At that moment Harry felt as if his heart had broken into a thousand little pieces because of that look.

"Harry, stop feeling sad for me." The black-haired boy stared at the other for a second. Could Draco read minds now?

"Kinda."

"What?"

"I can kind of read minds, Harry."

"Oh." Harry blinked and then decided to concentrate on helping Draco. "Is there anything I can do for you? Am I hurting you with my thoughts?"

Draco waved a hand as if to dismiss his questions. "No, just the others. I have a really bad migraine, though. If you would please help me to Madame Pomfrey's, that would be lovely."

Since when did Malfoy say 'please' and 'lovely'? questioned Harry silently.

"Since you're the only one who isn't harmful right now. And I use lovely all of the time, as in 'Oh, my, that cauldron exploding in the Weasel's face was lovely' or 'Harry Potter sure does have a tight, pert, lovely arse.'"

Gulp.

"Relax, it was a joke." A joke, right. Harry pushed his glasses up, attempting to hide his blush with his hand. If Draco noticed, he didn't say anything. Standing up on wobbly legs, Draco grabbed the surface of the nearest work table, putting his weight on it. "Little help here, Hero?" Harry rushed to him and held him up, putting his arm around the blond's waist and using the other one to grab a hold of his hand. They hobbled along to the entrance of the classroom. "I think I've got it on my own now, Potter." Draco had become more stable as they walked, and his voice no longer wavered.

Harry bit his lip in disappointment, but let go of the other boy, opening the heavy door for him. No sooner had they entered the hallway did Draco collapse into Harry's arms, passing out. Scooping the Slytherin up in his arms, Harry carried him to the Infirmary.

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Soon enough, the rumors had spread like wildfire. The gossips around the school were oozing with false information and practically orgasming over it. "Did you hear? Harry Potter poisoned Draco Malfoy." "Harry and Draco were fighting over the same girl..." "Harry and Draco were lovers, but Draco broke up with him, so..."

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When Draco awoke, the shouts began again, much to the dismay of the people surrounding his hospital bed; Draco shrieked like a banshee!

"Draco," a hand was on his shoulder. "It's alright, I'm here." And he was calmed for the time being. Looking up into the worried green eyes, he smiled slightly. He was rewarded with a Cheshire Cat grin and a feeling that warmed his heart.

Clearing his throat, Snape interrupted the Kodak moment, glaring at Harry. Draco glanced around him sheepishly at Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Bill Weasley (this year's DADA teacher), and Madame Pomfrey.

"Hey," he said weakly.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore responded. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit, to be honest." McGonagall opened her mouth to reprimand him, but was shushed by a look from the headmaster. Draco closed his eyes at the wave of shock McGonagall sent his way. Snape, he knew, was a nervous wreck, even though his face showed naught but a scowl. Dumbledore simply gave the blond's mind an impression of bubbles and lemon drops, which made him kind of dizzy.

Bill Weasley, however, was a different case. He was burning with lust for...for...Draco couldn't read that far into it.

"Goodness," whispered Draco with uncomfortable expression. He shook his head as if to clear it, then asked, "What the hell happened to me?" Again, disapproval from the deputy headmistress's direction.

"Well," began the headmaster, who seemed greatly amused. "From what Severus has told me, it appears that the potion that Draco drank tapped the part of his mind that would normally never be used. He has become what is known as an empath. He's now able to feel others' emotions, project his own, and also, sometimes, read others' thoughts."

"Um, Sir?" Harry said. "How come he only stops screaming when I touch him?" Dumbledore's eyes held that twinkle that Harry was beginning to recognize as a forewarning to something embarassing and/or terrible happening.

"Apparently, you're sharing your magic with him, which allows his burden to keep him sane. You see, Draco was never meant to have this power and without you touching him, he would go insane and eventually die."

Harry blinked, then blinked again. "So, I have to touch him forever?" Draco was offended until he probed Harry's mind and found that there was no disgust in his emotions. Just a mumbled up ball of confusion and something else he couldn't identify.

"Actually, no. Most times you only have to be near him to prevent the waves of emotion. Only when people are strongly projecting or when there is a large group of people around will he need touch."

"Oh." If anyone noticed that Harry still gripped Draco's shoulder, they didn't mention their observations. Draco, however, felt the amusement from Snape's direction and glared at him.

"I'm glad you think this is so funny, Severus," he said resentfully, as if a bee were in his knickers. "Just as I think that it's funny that you harbor less than platonic feelings towards one Professor-" Draco stopped mid-sentence as Harry gripped his shoulder rather tightly. Looking up, the blond questioned the other with raised eyebrows. Harry shook his head slightly and looked towards Bill. He was projecting anxiety and hope.

Oh. Severus was whom the Weasley was lusting for. Draco snorted.

"Silly boys," he thought aloud, earning curious gazes from the others. He didn't try to explain himself as he didn't care if they wanted to know. "If you want to find out, become an empath yourself. Why should I do all the work?"

"Ahem." Dumbledore quietly captured the group's attention once again. "About living arrangements. It would be easier if you two had been in the same house, but seeing as you aren't-"

'Please not the dungeons,' Draco picked up from Harry.

"Headmaster," interrupted Draco, appearing his normal, arrogant self. "I'd rather not take Potter into the dungeons. He wouldn't survive an hour without running back to Gryffindor tower and crying about the horrible Slytherins to Granger and Weasel." Harry didn't know whether he was offended or relieved at the moment.

"Then what would you suggest, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Setting up an extra bed in the seventh year Gryffindor boys dormitory. Or I could use Weasel's bed while he sleeps in the hallway." The blond shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. "Whichever. At least I know I won't be stabbed in my sleep amongst the noble Gryffindors." Draco laid back into his soft pillows, eyes closed. Now that he thought about it, he was very tired.

"I suppose those arrangements can be made," agreed the headmaster. "Bill, will you please inform the other boys about the predicament?" Nodding, the man left in a flurry of red hair. "The rest of us should also leave. I believe the young Malfoy is starting to feel the draining effects of this afternoon's...activities." They all said their goodbyes and walked out of the room, leaving Draco and Harry by themselves.

"I thought they would never leave," Draco said around a yawn. "McGonagall's the most uptight prude of all prudes."

"Tell me about it." Harry was feeling a bit uneasy with Draco's sudden comradely attitude towards him.

"Relax, Potter," Draco murmured, not even bothering to open his eyes. "As soon as this is all over, we can go back to hating each other as per usual. Stop freaking out about it." Disappointment. "Or we can be friends and frolic together in a field picking daisies and sharing our deepest, darkest secrets."

"Frolic?" Either chuckled at Draco's choice of example.

"Okay, so maybe not frolic, but it could happen, you know. We could be friends and I could help save the world alongside you like Ron and Hermione." Joy. "What? Why are you suddenly so happy?"

"Nothing...it's just...you called Ron and Hermione by their actual names. Not Mudblood or Weasel."

"Don't get used to it, Harry. It's only because I'm very tired. Speaking of which, I'm going to go to sleep now." Rolling over onto his side and facing Harry, he cuddled close to one of his pillows and concentrated on the emotional warmth that radiated off of the black-haired boy. He soon fell into a deep sleep.

Harry watched him for a bit, then pulled up a chair, pondering what he was feeling for the Slytherin at the moment. It certainly wasn't the familiar contempt.

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A/N: You like? If so, please review. Feel free to give suggestions on further situations and such. Don't be to harsh with criticism, as I am sort of proud of this fic.