A jolt of pain shot up Harry’s arms, making him yelp, instinctively letting go of both Draco’s wand and braid as if burned. Startled more than hurt, Harry was quick to gape at his opened palm, barely witnessing a faint mark where the tip of Draco’s wand had been pressed against Harry’s skin.<br/>Harry flexed his hand, the crackle of magic buzzing through his skin as his fingers moved. It was the first time in months Harry had felt the weight of magic in his hand, but the feeling of it was unfamiliar; it wasn't Harry’s own, making his throat close up.<br/>By the second time he flexed his hand, the mark had dulled, lost to the tan colour of Harry’s skin.<br/>“Yeah,” he stuttered out, mind reeling to catch up with what had happened, unable to figure out the root cause of the pain, nor the intent with which it had been fired.<br/>Awkwardly, he stood, rubbing his palm against the leg of his trousers. It was a thoughtless attempt to scratch the itch that settled deep within his hand, prickling at his nerve endings. “I think so.”