Seamus had the bandages, so Harry walked away. For all that he and Seamus had their problems recently, Harry had never been more grateful to the man for being there. He couldn't look anymore. He couldn't be near them anymore. He couldn't be near himself anymore. Of course, that couldn't be helped, but still Harry tried, pacing about the room with his hands deep in his hair in an attempt both to keep his head and to try to still his hands. Over and over, he heard Draco scream, saw the hate in those eyes.
Harry hadn't noticed he'd stopped moving until he felt the cold press of the wall against his forehead. Seamus could take care of the bandage, he reminded himself. If he went back, he was going to be sick. It was already a battle to keep his guts where they belonged.