There was nothing to prepare him for this, nothing at all. He wishes there was an alcove or that shadows were deeper, so he could not be seen by anyone walking past, but instead he's just pressed against the wall. The bricks in the alley are rough; they feel like knives through his thin t-shirt.

…oh god, oh god, oh god…

It is all Harry can do to keep some air in his lungs. He feels like he's been punched in the solar plexus, but if he takes the longed-for deep breaths, he will draw a lot of unwanted attention.

…oh god, oh god, oh god…

It's hard to keep still; the adrenalin is making him shake. Thankfully the firm grip on his left wrist is enough to hold him in place.

…oh god, oh god, oh god…

Harry's finally got his breathing under control, now if only he could do something about his wobbly legs.

…oh god, oh god, oh god…

Looking down is a mistake, for Draco looks up, those grey eyes wide, and Draco doesn't remove his mouth when Harry comes.