[It's not actually the touch that gets him this time, because there's just enough time for the force of the fire energy flowing through Harry's veins to hit him, and that throws him forward onto his hands and knees. Jesus. It feels like his mutation short circuits for a moment, trying to read heat within his own body, then combusts itself because there's simply too much. Not heat in the sense of burning, not arousal, not being piled under too many blankets or in a stifling room: pure, raw, in a way that even he can't explain because it shouldn't rightfully exist. Only fire itself should understand this sensation, and it has no power of comprehension.
He can't get up just yet. In fact, he falls to his elbows, shaking with the force of it. What Petre never got in the bursts of energy he received from Harry was the negative feedback effect of it being his own mutation bounced back at him, only in a form it can't understand. His body and mind are confused and snarled, but unquestionably exhilarated.]
How long does this last? [It's almost a wail. He drops his head, clasping it in his hands and trying to reorient himself in the world.]
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He can't get up just yet. In fact, he falls to his elbows, shaking with the force of it. What Petre never got in the bursts of energy he received from Harry was the negative feedback effect of it being his own mutation bounced back at him, only in a form it can't understand. His body and mind are confused and snarled, but unquestionably exhilarated.]
How long does this last? [It's almost a wail. He drops his head, clasping it in his hands and trying to reorient himself in the world.]