What came back first was the sensation in his arms and legs, that dim crackle of speed that was always there in the background, and following right on its heels was pain, hot and vivid. Oh god, he was, he was biting—it hurt—

Barry's eyes flew open and his hands gripped Harry's wrists, pushing hard, and it didn't do a thing. "H-Harry," he managed, barely, a hoarse, wet-sounding whisper as he thrashed in that superhuman grip. "Harry, stop—"