The spell scratched a dull pain across his chest; had Harry closed his eyes, he could have believed Malfoy to be pushing the tip of his wand into his skin. With his eyes open, attention only partially on Malfoy’s expression, he knew the wand was nowhere near touching him, making it easier to place the pain half an inch beneath his skin.<br/>The discomfort entirely manageable, Harry glanced off to one side, aimlessly around the room. Watching Malfoy work when he so clearly attempted to see through Harry’s chest felt awkward or intimate; or both. Though Harry desperately wanted to read the results as it dawned upon Malfoy’s features, Harry found that he couldn’t maintain that kind of eye contact for more than a few moments at a time.<br/>Harry was looking at a bookshelf somewhere above Malfoy’s left shoulder when the scratch dipped, pinching through the layers of tissue and sending a bite of pain up Harry’s spine. It made Harry breathing catch and his muscles jerk, an involuntary attempt to inch away from the non-existent point of contact.<br/>His lips remained parted when his eyes returned onto Malfoy, either a curse or an accusation building at the tip of his tongue. Neither became fully coherent before blue light bloomed from his chest, slow but unmistakable.<br/>It stalled Harry’s intention to speak, eyes dipping to his chest to place the source of light, right hand abandoning his wand in favour for the leg of his glasses, keeping them on his nose.<br/>Harry looked at the light for a moment, a few inches askew from the scar left by the medallion. "Is that it?"