Bond

Chapter 2

October 1 - October 4

Day 3, Thursday, continued

I must remember I'm living with a Slytherin, and an unusually unpleasant, vindictive one at that, thought Harry at lunch time.

The day had not gone well so far. They'd rushed into Transfigurations eight minutes late, and although all McGonagall had done was pause in mid-sentence and pointedly wait for them to sit before continuing, Malfoy had been in a foul temper ever since. In sharp contrast with his sullen terseness the last two days, he'd kept up a steady litany of verbal abuse during the practical part of the lesson.

It hadn't helped that they were in Malfoy's class, so every snide remark Malfoy sent his way was followed by a chorus of laughter from his Slytherin cronies. Harry had almost literally bitten his tongue to keep from saying anything, knowing whatever he said would only be mercilessly mocked by Malfoy and his friends.

"Brilliant, Potter. Work any second year would be proud of. Too bad you're in seventh."

"Did that one glimmer of understanding get too lonely inside your brain with no other thoughts to keep it company? Is that why it decided to abandon you?" Pansy Parkinson had particularly appreciated that one.

"Merlin, Potter, we're supposed to be turning a quill into a flower, not a bloody weed."

"You are just feigning abject stupidity, right? To fool the rest of us into a false sense of superiority?" That last had at least resulted in McGonagall taking five points from Slytherin for Malfoy's rudeness, but that hadn't helped Harry's ego any.

Then had come Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry had been able to sit with his friends during the first part of the lesson, but the second half involved a fair bit of movement as they practiced spells against banshees. Goyle, Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson had ended up working near them, joining Malfoy in mocking Harry and Hermione as they attempted to subdue Harry's banshee, and Hermione's repeated exhortations to Harry to not listen to 'the slimy git' somehow didn't help at all.

"Honestly, Potter, I may as well be married to a Squib," Malfoy had muttered, and his Slytherin friends had laughed.

"We're not married," Harry snapped, and Malfoy had blinked at him.

"What?"

"We may be bonded. We're not married," Harry said tightly.

"It's the same thing."

"No it's not. Don't call it that," Hermione said coldly.

Malfoy exchanged a baffled look with his cronies. "Why not?"

"Marriage is supposed to be something more than a stupid curse that ties you to a loathsome toad you'd rather kill in his sleep. It's supposed to be about love and commitment - it's supposed to be a good thing."

Malfoy smirked at them. "Ooh. That's so sweet. Marriage is all about poetry and candy hearts, is it?" Parkinson giggled. "How very Muggle. All right then, have it your way: honestly, Potter, darling, I may as well be married to a Squib."

Harry had blushed furiously, sending the Slytherins into peals of laughter and giving Malfoy perfect fodder for more merciless mockery for the rest of the class.

"Don't think too hard, dear. It's not your strong suit."

"Light of my life, this complete inability of yours to understand the simplest instructions - does it come naturally, or have you worked hard to perfect it?"

Well, at least they would be among Harry's friends for most of the afternoon, he tried to comfort himself. Although as he'd learned during Defence Against the Dark Arts, that didn't mean much if there was a lot of movement during class. They had both been accidentally touched by other students during the practical parts of Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and had ended up standing very close to each other to avoid the pain of unwanted contact.

"Hurry up," Malfoy snapped at Harry as they entered the Great Hall. He quickly approached the closest table and grabbed some sandwiches, just like yesterday.

"Malfoy, come on. I don't want to eat in the courtyard again."

"We're not, we're going to the hospital, remember? We're supposed to check in with Pomfrey every day."

"Right." Harry grabbed some food dispiritedly, following Malfoy out. The hospital. Where Pomfrey would wave her wand over them and "monitor" their "progress" and probably ask a bunch of questions he didn't want asked. And remind him that this mess involved far more than just having to get used to a new class schedule and a new place to live. Which was really not something he wanted to be reminded of at all.

ooooooo

"All right, then," Madam Pomfrey began, "I'm going to be asking you a lot of questions every day, and I want you to answer them honestly. We'll do this as privately as possible, so you don't have to worry about the other one using anything you say against you. I've also been talking to a Healer from St. Mungo's who deals with bonding spells gone awry. Not that this is all that common, but it does happen from time to time that a couple who has accepted a bond for political reasons," she carefully didn't look at Malfoy as she said that, "finds that they are truly incompatible. She'll be coming in to help every few days." Pomfrey smoothed down her robe, sounding a little less than fully authoritative for once. "I'm rather at a loss, you see. Not only was this bond involuntary, it's also not common between two people of the same sex and of course there's the matter of you both being barely of age. Not to mention the rather strong animosity between you."

"How nice to be unique," Malfoy muttered.

"Yes, well, the papers are having a wonderful time of it," Pomfrey said.

"Papers??" Malfoy and Harry spoke simultaneously.

"I take it you weren't at breakfast?" They shook their heads. "You're the talk of the town on The Daily Prophet."

"Oh, god." Malfoy covered his eyes.

"Welcome to the front page," Harry said bitterly. "Isn't it what you've always wanted?"

Pomfrey cleared her throat and spoke before Malfoy could come back with a cutting retort. "Today, while I'm talking to one of you, I'll have the other one talk to Madam Pantere," she indicated a smartly dressed older witch in Ministry insignia. "She's here to try to find who cast the curse on you-" Pomfrey held out her hand as their expressions brightened, "-not that anybody expects to find any answers there. You've both been told that this is almost certainly permanent. Madam Pantere will do her best to find whoever cast this, but the odds are high that she will not succeed." They nodded glumly. "All right, then, we'll get started. Malfoy, go with Madam Pantere, she'll examine you and ask you some questions, Potter, come with me."

She led Harry behind a small partition, close to where Madam Pantere and Malfoy would be, but apparently soundproofed, as their voices went suddenly silent. "How are you, Potter?"

"Fine."

"How is the bond? Do you feel a need to be close to Mr. Malfoy, or touch him?"

"Close, yeah. Not, um, not touching."

"Do you feel attuned to his emotional state?"

"Do you mean, can I feel what he's feeling?" She nodded. "Yeah, sort of."

"Care to tell me what that means for you?"

"No."

"Do so anyway."

"I... I can tell, sort of, what he's feeling. If it's strong feelings, I can sort of... it's like I feel them too, but they're not... not mine..." he trailed off, not knowing how to make it any clearer.

"That sounds about right. Do you feel any attraction to him?"

Harry grimaced in distaste. "No."

"No, I didn't imagine you would. Normally it takes at least a week or two. Then again, you are both teenage boys, so it could be faster." She wrote something down. "Have you had any sexual experiences with other boys?"

"No."

"What about girls?"

"Er... not really, no."

Pomfrey looked up at him in surprise. "Nothing?"

"Er, I kissed a girl, a couple of years ago..." he muttered, blushing, "But, um, other than that, er, no."

"Oh dear." Pomfrey looked a little thrown off. "Does Malfoy know?"

"What?"

"That you have almost no sexual experience at all?"

"How should I know?"

"You will need to talk to him about this, you realize that."

"I don't particularly want to."

"Would you rather talk to him now, before it's an issue, or later, in the middle of... well, situations where it would be awkward to bring this up as a topic of conversation?"

"I'd really rather not talk about it at all, frankly. With anyone. Especially him."

"I can imagine," Pomfrey said sympathetically. "Unfortunately, that's really not an option."

"Why not?" Harry muttered rebelliously.

"Potter, be serious. It's going to be noticeable that you've not done anything before, and it's going to cause a great deal of awkwardness."

Harry rubbed his forehead, really wishing he had a Time Turner to go back to a time before any of this had happened.

"You're going to have to talk to him." Harry frowned and Pomfrey leaned closer. "I won't force you to. This is your marriage, you have to-"

"I wish people would stop calling it that!" Harry burst out, exasperated. Pomfrey gave him the same puzzled look that Malfoy had. "It's not a marriage, it's a mistake!"

"It's both, Potter," she said slowly, not understanding him.

Harry pressed his lips together and dropped it. His objection to the word itself seemed to be one of those things that only Muggle-borns could understand.

"Will you talk to him? I won't force you to, but it's a very good idea-"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I guess so." This was going to be rather awkward, he thought tiredly. This whole thing was hellishly awkward, and the thought of bringing this up with Malfoy of all people... he had no idea where to even begin.

"You don't have time right now, but tonight after school I want you to come back here. It might make it easier if the discussion takes place here, where it's more... impersonal."

"But you said it would take a while before anything-"

"We don't know for sure. These things don't follow a strict schedule, you know."

"Fine."

"Do cheer up, Potter. We'll get you both through this. The healer at St. Mungo's has a lot of suggestions about how to deal with problems you may have adjusting. As a matter of fact," she took out a scroll and started to unroll it, "she sent me a list. We won't have time to read through the whole thing right now, of course, but we can get started. Right?"

Harry looked at the long, long roll, and morosely bit into his sandwich. Oh, good. What fun.

ooooooo

Malfoy came out of Pomfrey's partition with a grim look on his face and they set off for Arithmancy, each lost in his thoughts.

"Did she talk to you about using the fireplace in our room?" Malfoy said suddenly.

"To talk to parents and such?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. It's one of the suggestions from the St. Mungo's healer."

"What a waste of time," Malfoy shook his head. "How's talking to everybody every day supposed to help? And when am I supposed to be studying while all this chatting is going on?"

"I don't know. Muggles believe in that kind of thing very strongly."

"You mean, just talking out problems?" Harry nodded, and Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Typical."

"You know they don't want to use cheering charms or anything, what with-"

"I know, I know, they don't know whether the bloody curse will interact with any other spells and they don't want to take chances and all of that. I still say give me a cheering charm over pointless talk any day."

"Don't you want to talk to your parents?"

"Not every day, no."

"Your father looked worried about you the other day."

Malfoy frowned slightly. "Yeah."

"Why didn't your mother come?" Harry asked curiously.

"When?"

"The day that - your father was there, but your mother wasn't."

"None of your business."

Harry shrugged, and they walked the rest of the way to Arithmancy in silence. At the door, he asked, "Did Madam Pomfrey tell you we're supposed to go back to the hospital after class today?"

"Yeah. Didn't say what for, though."

"Oh."

"Do you know?" Malfoy said as they entered the class.

"Er, yeah."

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Then why are we going?" They found their seats, with Hermione next to Harry on one side, and Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode next to Malfoy on the other.

"No reason." Harry took out his book and notes as the Arithmancy professor walked in and greeted the class.

"All right, I've got your papers marked from - oh," said the professor, skimming the stack of papers he was holding and frowning. "These are the fifth year papers. Wait here, please," he said hurriedly, and left.

"So what are we supposed to go back for?" Malfoy asked, filling his ink pot.

"Nothing."

"Come on," Malfoy said, annoyed. "It's obviously not nothing. Is it a secret?"

"No, not really-"

"Then why not tell me?"

"I just don't-"

"Is there something you know that I don't?"

"Lower your voice," Harry warned, as the students near them started to look like they were trying not to be noticed eavesdropping.

"Oh, this is something you want to hide, is it?" Malfoy smirked at Zabini and Bulstrode, who made no attempt to dissemble as they grinned and settled in to watch.

"Drop it," Harry said.

"Goodness, Potter, I'm all aquiver with anticipation now," Malfoy put his hand on his chest dramatically and Bulstrode sniggered.

"Shut up," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Does this have to do with the questions she was asking today?" Harry clamped his mouth shut and Malfoy pounced. "It does!"

"No it doesn't."

"Tell that to your face, dear," Malfoy chuckled. "You're blushing. And I can feel just how embarrassed you are. You're positively squirming. It's very entertaining."

"Wonderful."

"Malfoy, do grow up," Hermione said impatiently.

Malfoy didn't bother to acknowledge her. "So, what was it Pomfrey talked about today? There was the state of the bond, could I feel your emotions - I'd have to say yes, right now - how was I doing in terms of the attraction part of this-" Harry tried to remain impassive but from the gleeful tone to Malfoy's voice, failed utterly. "Mhmm, I'd have to say that's it." Malfoy put his head to the side. "So, is it that you're already feeling something?" Small pause. "No, that's not it..."

Harry pressed his lips together, stifling the urge to whack Malfoy on the head or cast a skin-rotting curse at him.

"My goodness, Potter, you do get angry rather easily, don't you?" Malfoy was maliciously delighted. "You should do something about that, you know. It's not good for your nerves."

"Don't listen to him, Harry," Hermione said, reaching out to pat his arm comfortingly and drawing back just in time as Harry flinched in alarm.

"Is it about the questions she was asking, about previous sexual history?" Malfoy asked, pitching his voice low enough for only Harry to hear, and Harry tried to blank his features but it was too late. "That's it, isn't it? Snogged a lot of boys, have you, despite your 'I'm not gay' protests to the contrary?" Malfoy grinned at him maliciously. Harry opened his notes and pretended to study an Arithmancy chart.

Malfoy observed him for a moment. "No, that's not it," he decided. "So..." he peered at Harry closely, then said slowly, "Or is it the other way around?" Harry's pulse sped up. Malfoy's mouth dropped opened in shock. "Potter. You're not a virgin, surely?" he said, scandalised.

"Shh!" Harry hissed, but it was too late - everybody sitting near them had heard, some students were turning around to look at them, and Malfoy had a look on his face that was very close to horror. Harry covered his eyes, utterly mortified.

"You're... Mordred." Malfoy put his head down on the table. "I'm going to find whoever set this curse," he moaned, "I'm going to find him and kill him, and then I'm going to resuscitate him so I can kill him again."

Harry crossed his arms and set his jaw, not trusting himself to say anything. If you hex him, you'll feel it, he reminded himself. A little discomfort or pain is fine. What you want to do to him would probably kill you through the damnable bond.

"How can you-" Malfoy raised his head, "You're nearly eighteen years old, for god's sake! What in hell have you been waiting for? An engraved invitation?"

"Apparently, I've been waiting for you," Harry snapped at him. Bulstrode and Zabini choked back a laugh as Malfoy whipped around to glare at them, then turned back to Harry.

"Oh, that's hilarious. Really, that's very funny. Pity your brilliant wit hasn't done you much good with girls. So that's what we're supposed to talk about today after school? Your absolutely pitiful lack of any experience?" Harry pushed his chair back and stalked out of the classroom, Malfoy growling in annoyance but following him, unable to stay in the room without him, as the rest of the class burst into commentary.

"This is fucking unbelievable!" Malfoy said once they were in the hallway. "What is wrong with you, Potter?"

"Nothing!" he said furiously. "I just haven't had time to-"

"Oh, for god's sake - that's not - how can you not have had sex before??"

"I take it you have."

"Of course!"

"With other boys?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then you've no right to look down on my inexperience-"

Hermione came bursting into the hallway, rounding on Malfoy heatedly. "You're a foul piece of scum-"

"Funny, somehow I've managed to have a social life anyway - Granger, this is none of your business. Bugger off!"

"You've just made it everybody's business by blurting that out in the middle of the class. What's wrong with you? Do you have no sense of decency at all?"

"Shut up," Malfoy dismissed her, turning back to Harry. "This has got to be the most - get back here!!" he shouted, as Harry turned on his heel and set off. "Where are you going??"

"Away from you!"

"You can't, you bloody idiot, and we have Arithmancy anyway!"

"I don't care! I'm not going back in there!!"

"You stupid git-" Malfoy grabbed at Harry's shoulder, spinning him around, then cried out in pain as Hermione pulled him back.

"NO! Hermione, don't!" Harry exclaimed, as a searing shock went through both of them.

Malfoy rubbed his arm, gasping a little from the pain, and glared at Hermione, then turned back to Harry. "Get back in there. I'm not missing class over this. If you must be a pathetic little virgin, at least don't be a pathetic little virgin who brings down my marks in Arithmancy."

Harry clenched his jaw.

"Is there a problem?" their Arithmancy professor inquired, appearing with an armful of scrolls.

"No sir," they all said automatically.

"Then kindly re-enter the classroom," he indicated.

"I - I'm not feeling well-" Harry began, and Hermione interrupted him.

"We'll be there in a minute, sir."

"Hermione-"

The professor shrugged and went back into the classroom, and Malfoy followed him in.

"Harry. He's right," Hermione said, her mouth twisting in disgust at her own words. "You'll have to go back in eventually anyway."

ooooooo

Well, that was a lot of fun, Harry thought to himself wearily as they finally came back to their quarters after the hospital at the end of the day. Arithmancy had been sheer torture, facing the smirks and whispered comments of the Slytherins. He felt utterly exposed and humiliated, although the fact that they had Astronomy and Herbology with only Harry's house for the rest of the day had helped somewhat. Malfoy, while continuing his steady barrage of put-downs and insults pitched low enough for only Harry to hear, at least didn't have an appreciative Slytherin audience to cheer him on and join him in making fun of Harry.

The hospital had been a different kind of embarrassing torture, but he was glad Pomfrey had been there to keep things clinical and keep Malfoy from getting too out of hand. She'd gotten them to share what experience they each had, given them both some do's and don'ts and a book to read, and reminded them of what they could expect to start feeling in the next few weeks, and how to deal with it all. She'd also sternly pointed out to Malfoy that he was likely to suffer the consequences himself if he made Harry so uncomfortable about the subject that he was unable to relax and allow matters to progress easily. Malfoy had rolled his eyes and made a couple more cutting remarks but then subsided into sullen silence again.

"Password?" Sir Xander asked blearily, just waking up from a nap and scratching his back with his wooden stake.

"Hades," Malfoy muttered, pushing past Harry to get inside. Harry pushed him back impatiently and tossed his schoolbag onto one of their chairs, shouldering out of his robe and throwing it onto the chair next to it.

"Don't you ever put your things away properly, Potter?" Malfoy said irritably.

"I'm surprised you do. Don't you have house elves and lackeys for all menial work?"

"Not twenty-four hours a day, you idiot," Malfoy put his things away neatly and approached the fire. "I'm going first, might as well get this over with," he settled down in front of the fireplace.

"Fine, I'll do my homework."

"Really? No whining about 'it's almost dinner time, can't we pleease go eat with my ickle friends?'"

"After Arithmancy today I've absolutely no desire to be in the Great Hall, thanks," Harry shot back curtly, going through his schoolbag. Malfoy smirked and then turned to the fireplace, where his mother's face was appearing.

Harry settled into one of the comfortable chairs in their sitting room and pulled out his Arithmancy text. He wasn't terribly pleased that he'd had to pick up seventh year Arithmancy. Although technically it concentrated on completely different areas than third-through-sixth year Arithmancy, and technically anybody could take it without the lower year courses, he still felt utterly lost. He'd need to rely heavily on Hermione if he wanted to pass this class at all.

He buried himself into the complex equations from the text and from Hermione's notes, looking up every so often to see if Malfoy was done talking to his parents. They seemed to be having a fairly pleasant conversation, although Lucius Malfoy's face, whenever Harry saw it, was back to the slightly annoyed expression he usually wore around his son. And Malfoy, now that the initial shock of the curse was over, was back to his customary subdued respectfulness when he spoke to his father.

His mother was a different story, though. From her expression, she seemed to be quite worried about her son, to the point that he was getting irritated at her.

"Your classes are going well, then?" she was saying.

"Yeah. Herbology's not a problem; the only reason I wasn't taking it this year is that it's so dead simple I could teach it to myself. The only problem's Runes, that's not easy when I've got to miss half the classes."

"I know. Perhaps we can get you a Runes tutor?"

"That might be good, yeah."

"How... how are you feeling, Draco?" Malfoy's mother said, sounding very unsure of herself.

"Fine," Malfoy muttered, sounding equally uncomfortable. Harry cleared his throat and cast a silence spell over himself, giving Malfoy some privacy in the hopes that he would do the same. Not that he could trust that Malfoy wouldn't listen in on any conversations he had with Lupin, but maybe Malfoy would decide that whatever a werewolf had to say to Harry wasn't worth listening to. He buried himself back into Arithmancy.

A rough poke at his shoulder startled him out of a complex equation. Malfoy was standing over his chair, saying something. Harry ended the silencing spell.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, I'm done," he headed off to the washroom. "Feel free to call your werewolf pseudo-parent," he tossed over his shoulder. "Unless he's busy out mauling people - isn't it close to the full moon?"

Harry ignored him and went to the fireplace.

"Professor," he said in relief as Lupin appeared in the fireplace. God, he hadn't even realized how much he needed to talk to somebody until Lupin was there.

"Harry. How are you?"

ooooooo

Day 4, Friday

Draco woke up, head buzzing with something, feeling like there was something... damn. He couldn't place it, but there was something missing... damn it. What was it? He lay awake, staring at the dark ceiling above him, trying to identify the feeling. Why wasn't he sleeping? He looked over at the clock - 2:07. He shouldn't be awake, but he was, and he was so very uncomfortable...

He sat up and looked over at Potter, turning restlessly in the next bed, a frown on his sleeping face, and felt a growing need to move closer to him.

Oh, blast, he let himself fall back to his pillow. Here we go. There wasn't anything sexual in what he was feeling, but the five-foot gap between their beds suddenly looked far too wide.

Wonderful. What was he supposed to do about it? Move the bed over, so Potter could see tomorrow that he'd been the one to crack during the night?

He chewed on his lip, observing Potter's restless movements, then decided to take action. He got up and went to the washroom, gritting his teeth at the feeling of unease that grew stronger the farther he moved away from Potter and hoping that same unease would wake Potter up. When he came back, Potter was sitting up in bed, squinting around the room and rubbing a hand through his messy hair.

"Malfoy?"

"Yeah."

"Where were you?"

"Washroom."

"Oh." Potter lay back down.

They lay in silence for a few minutes.

"Malfoy?" Potter finally said.

"Yeah?"

"Can you sleep?"

'Yeah, of course,' was on the tip of his tongue, but then he balked. Potter wouldn't have asked if he were feeling fine himself. If Draco said he felt all right, Potter might decide not to show any weakness and not admit that he too was awake and in severe discomfort, and both of them would remain in this highly irritating state until one of them cracked. He thought for a moment. "Can you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

There was a long pause. "No, I can't."

"Why not?"

Another long silence. "Too uncomfortable. You?"

Draco hesitated, then sighed and gave in. "Yeah, me too." He sat up. "Pomfrey said this would happen eventually."

"Yeah. I just didn't expect it this soon." Potter slipped out of his bed. "I'm going to push them together, all right?" he started without waiting for Draco to respond.

"Er-"

"Better?" Potter said as he climbed back into his own bed.

"God, yeah," Draco blurted out before he could censor himself, astonished at the sheer relief that flooded him once the two beds were together and Potter lay a mere foot away from him. He bit his lip as Potter laughed, but it wasn't a mocking laugh.

"That felt like ants crawling on me there for a minute," Potter shuddered.

"Feels like bees buzzing around my head, actually," Draco said. "Whoever came up with this curse was a sadist."

"Yeah. Oh, that's better." Potter closed his eyes contentedly. Draco silently agreed and punched his pillow down, making himself more comfortable and soon slipping back to sleep.

ooooooo

"Malfoy!" Draco opened his eyes. Potter was sitting on his own bed, leaning over Draco's bed and firmly shaking him awake. Draco blinked, momentarily disoriented at how close Potter was, then remembered the night before and looked away, a slight blush creeping up his neck.

"We've overslept again, we have to get up now," Potter said, scrambling out of bed. Right, Potions, first thing. Draco glanced at the clock - 8:00. He sat up, hurriedly grabbing his clothing, glad he'd showered the night before.

"Have you seen my tie?" he asked as they both quickly changed and scrambled about trying to find their books. Potter tossed it at him and he grabbed it, pushing past Potter into the washroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair. He felt his face - the mirror showed no shadow, no surprise there, but he should put on shaving potion; it was getting scratchy. No, no time.

"Malfoy? Can I borrow ink? I'm out," Potter came into the washroom, hurriedly running a comb through his hair.

"Yeah - if we sit with my friends for Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"How about Potions and Herbology?"

Draco thought for a moment. "Done. Ready?"

"Yeah-" Potter put the comb away and impatiently pushed past Draco on his way out of the washroom. Draco finished putting on his tie and followed him out, and they hurried to Potions.

"We need to set an alarm spell," Draco muttered, his stomach growling. "I hate missing breakfast." Potter nodded and they slipped into class barely ahead of Snape, heading towards Draco's desk. Millicent Bulstrode smirked at Potter as she greeted Draco cheerfully, and Draco grinned as he remembered the scene in Arithmancy yesterday, and Potter's utter humiliation. He took out his books, feeling somewhat more upbeat as Snape began the lesson.

"Did we finish that anti-flu potion?" Potter elbowed him and whispered, staring at his notes as Snape wrote on the board.

Draco leaned over to look at Potter's notes. "Really, Potter, that's awful," he commented. "How can you learn anything writing chicken scratches like that? Yeah, we finished the anti-flu. We're starting the anti-pneumonia one today." He smirked and raised his voice slightly. "It's funny though, you'd think, being a virgin and all, that you'd have more time on your hands to take decent notes."

A ripple of laughter spread through the students near them and Snape turned around as Potter elbowed Draco angrily and muttered "Shut up!"

"Mr. Potter, would you care to share what is so funny with the class?"

"No, sir," Potter mumbled.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape turned back to the board.

Draco grinned and bent his head to his notes.

ooooooo

"This is where you live now, Draco? Oh my. This is nice," Pansy Parkinson said, as she, Blaise Zabini, Granger and Weasley accompanied him and Potter into their quarters at the end of the day.

"Bit bare, though, isn't it?" Blaise asked. Draco shrugged.

"Too bad about the company, too," Pansy said lightly, and Potter and his friends ignored her as they settled into their seats.

Draco smiled, unexpectedly glad to have fellow Slytherins around. They'd all gone to the library to study, but had been chased out eventually by Pince for making too much noise. Draco had gathered his books, glumly reflecting that he'd never thought he'd miss his common room, where he could study by himself or with friends, or take a break and relax and talk if he wanted. As both he and Potter were cut off from their common rooms, he'd resigned himself to going back to their quarters with only Potter for company again until Granger had suggested they move their study session there.

"Your place is large enough to fit all of us, Harry," she'd said, and Pansy and Blaise had raised their eyebrows at the thought of Granger having been in Draco's private quarters, even as Potter had muttered something about it not being that big. Draco, sure that Pansy and Blaise would have no wish to be around Granger and Weasley, had been about to say something to the effect that he didn't want visitors when Pansy spoke up.

"They've been already? And here I thought you weren't accepting any visitors," she'd smirked. "Or is it Gryffindor-only territory?"

"No, of course not-" Draco started to say, and Pansy nodded, cutting off whatever Blaise was about to say.

"Right then. Let's go," she'd said brightly.

"Oh, goodness, this isn't funny, it's Friday night and here we are, studying," Pansy muttered now as she settled herself into the loveseat, "Bloody NEWTs. I'm a nervous wreck about them already. Draco, did you copy down my notes from yesterday's Runes?"

"Yeah, right here-" he handed her the notes, settling in and noting that, barely four days in, there was already an established seating pattern that everybody fell into: Draco and Potter in the middle, often with their backs to each other or at least turned as far away from each other as possible, Potter's friends on Potter's side, Draco's friends on the other side. The only problem was that right now they'd ended up with Draco and Pansy sharing the loveseat, a little too close for comfort, and Potter in an armchair next to him, a little too far away for comfort.

Damn, if only those feelings were reversed. He and Pansy had dated briefly several times and he liked her well enough - not as anything serious, as they'd both expected to end up married off politically to other people, but she wasn't bad company and was pleasant enough in bed. If only he could see her closeness right now as a possible sign of the evening taking a romantic turn, instead of feeling slightly nervous she might make him feel his skin was on fire if she moved the wrong way.

"Did the translations make any sense?" Pansy asked him.

"Not much, no."

"Damnably difficult, not attending every other day. Why didn't he just drop Astronomy?" she glanced disparagingly over at Potter.

Draco shrugged. "Didn't work out. It's not a problem, my mother's probably going to get me a tutor."

"Still. You shouldn't have to-"

"It's not a problem," Draco repeated firmly. Pansy flipped her hair back and turned to her own notes.

"Well. Here, let me go through the third translation, see if I remember how it goes myself."

Draco leaned closer to see her notes, jerking back as she lifted her face unexpectedly and almost touched him.

"Oh, sorry. Look, the third verse is..." and he was soon lost in the intricacies of the Runic writing, looking up only when he saw Granger approaching their bedroom door.

"Where's the book?" she asked, and Draco felt a small jump of alarm.

"Hermione, don't, I'll get it-" Potter was saying hurriedly but Granger was already opening the door. "I said I'd get it," Potter mumbled, blushing a little as Hermione's eyebrows went up, seeing their two beds pushed together.

"My goodness, we are moving fast, aren't we?" Pansy purred as she peered into their bedroom. "All the virgin jokes wearing thin already, Potter? Or do they no longer apply?" Potter glared at her, opening his mouth for a quick retort. Draco quickly reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Don't," he suggested, turning back to Pansy as Potter's face took on a bemused expression, he closed his mouth, and went into the bedroom to look for the book Granger wanted.

Pansy smirked. "Well? Bond progressing faster than expected, Draco?"

"No," he muttered. "It's just easier to not be too far apart. Nothing's happened yet." He cleared his throat. "And it's none of your business anyway," he said lightly. "Where were we?"

"Ever since you became an old married man you're no fun at all," Pansy pouted, and Blaise laughed.

"Very funny. I think we're supposed to be working on the third translation?"

"Yes, fine, all right. Look, I think the problem is that you weren't there for Tuesday's class either, that's when he explained the indicative phraseology that we had to look at for the Thursday runes."

"The what?"

"Indicative phraseology," she repeated patiently, and he lost himself in the intricacies of the week's lessons as she led him and Blaise through them.

Blaise was really quite hopeless at it, thought Draco uncharitably half an hour later as Blaise asked yet another question that showed he had no grasp of even the simplest concepts. He let his mind wander, a bit bored, as Pansy corrected yet another interpretation error on Blaise's paper, then reminded himself that he wasn't all that sure of the concepts himself. The look on Pansy's face at some of his questions had shown him quite conclusively that he wasn't functioning at his usual level today. He really should be using his time to go over the more difficult phrases while Pansy worked with Blaise, rather than staring at the wall blankly and imagining the dots on the wallpaper as bees. Buzzing bees. Buzzing softly, making it difficult to concentrate.

"Harry?" Weasley's voice startled him and he looked up to see Weasley moving his hand in front of Potter's face. "Anybody home?"

"Sorry," Potter muttered, blinking and shaking his head. "What were you saying?"

"I was talking about the Arithmancy assignment," Granger said patiently. "Due next Tuesday. Do you need my notes?"

"Um, yeah, yeah - what day is it due again?"

"Tuesday," Granger said slowly. Potter nodded, then turned to look at Draco.

Draco blew out his breath. Here we go again, he thought as they gazed at each other in irritation. He was hearing bees, Potter was out to lunch, there were about six feet between his loveseat and Potter's armchair, and obviously the three were connected. And short of asking everyone to change places, there was no subtle way of reducing the discomfort.

It wasn't that bad anyway, he told himself, prepared to just deal with it, and failed to stifle a yelp of pain as Pansy brushed against his shoulder unexpectedly.

"Oh, bother, I'm sorry," she said breezily, glancing at Granger quickly. "This isn't going to work, Draco, I'm too used to jabbing you whenever I feel like it, here, Blaise, slide over, Potter, come take my place, actually, why doesn't everybody just move over one seat and Blaise you pull that armchair over to this side? Right, then-" and Draco and Potter watched, bemused, as the seating change was accomplished with a minimum of fuss and Granger gave Pansy a grateful look and the two groups resumed their conversations as if no interruption had taken place.

"Right, then, Blaise," Pansy said, "Come on, don't be a complete idiot, the Gothic wizards didn't have a word for train, they didn't have trains, honestly, a little general history wouldn't be out of place once in a while at this school."

ooooooo

Day 6, Sunday

"It's going all right, I suppose. I'm getting used to him," Harry said quietly to Lupin via the fireplace Sunday night. Not that he needed to be quiet; Malfoy had, as per usual, cast a silence charm over himself - but it still felt a little odd to talk about somebody when they were right in the room. Especially when they were seated close enough to touch.

"You sound lonely," Lupin observed gently.

"Yeah, well... I miss my house. Weekends are always fun at Gryffindor Tower, I mean we just sleep in late and then sit around not doing much, but it's still, it's nice."

"What did you do instead?"

"Woke up late, but then there wasn't much to do other than study. I met with some friends at the library, but it's... it's not the same. They all live together and I don't any more. Seamus and Dean were laughing about a joke they'd played on a third year, and I had no idea what they were talking about, and Ron and Neville were-" Harry stopped himself. He was whining. He should probably stop. "Sorry."

"Harry, it's all right."

Harry nodded, face downcast, then looked up as Malfoy tapped him on the shoulder.

"Where's the assignment for Herbology?" he asked, and Harry pointed to his desk. Malfoy got it, tsking in annoyance at the amount of loose paper that littered Harry's study area.

"How's the bond?" Lupin asked. Harry shrugged. "That good?"

"It's not that bad," Harry admitted. "He's not awful all the time." He looked over at Malfoy, but Malfoy was studying Harry's assignment with a slight frown and appeared to have set the silence charm around himself again. Harry sighed.

"What is it?"

"It's just... you know we go to Madam Pomfrey every day, right?"

"Yes..."

"She's had that witch from the Ministry examine us a few times - and, and she said it looked like the spell wasn't even done right."

"What?"

"I didn't really understand most of it - I wish Hermione'd been there, she would have been able to follow it. All I could understand was that she thought it showed 'lack of experience with this class of spells'. She explained why, but I really couldn't make heads or tails of what she was talking about."

"Did Malfoy know what she was talking about?"

"Oh, apparently. He got very angry and said something like, 'So we've been cursed by an amateur.'"

"Did you ask him to explain it to you?"

"Malfoy? Not a chance," Harry said automatically, then looked over at Malfoy, still oblivious right next to him.

"Any chance of catching the caster?"

"Not really. She thinks it may have been a student. Or maybe a teacher doing the spell slightly off so that it looked like a student did it. Or somebody outside of Hogwarts. Who knows."

"What does it mean?"

"She really doesn't know, except that she doesn't think our bond will 'progress in the regular fashion', whatever that means. We might feel some things more than we would otherwise, or less, or who knows, but then she said anything unusual may just be because it was involuntary and we're both so young and..." Harry's words ran out.

"I'm sorry," Lupin said after a long pause.

"Yeah, well, me too."

"What does Madam Pomfrey say about the progression so far?"

"Oh, she thinks everything's splendid," Harry said bitterly.

"You don't agree?"

"'Splendid' means we have to be close almost all the time, and, and, we... we need to touch - I hadn't really noticed that one, but he noticed that we were pushing each other out of the way and hitting each other more than before. That's nice, isn't it? A bond that's based on shoving and hitting each other?"

"Not the best basis for a marriage, no," Lupin winced as soon as he'd spoken. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like to call it that."

"I'm getting used to it. Hermione's the only person who doesn't call it that, really. Even Ron - he said something like 'now that you're married' the other day. It's just so strange. Everybody just accepts it as a marriage. And it's not."

"Lily said something like that once," Lupin said slowly.

"Like what?"

"I think it was because Sirius was complaining that his parents wanted him married off to a woman he'd never met, and Lily said something like That's not a real marriage, and she couldn't understand why the rest of us couldn't see the difference."

"Hm."

"Is there really that big a difference for Muggles?"

"What?"

"Do Muggles really believe that there needs to be romantic love in a marriage to make it a real marriage?"

"No, not really, I don't think..." Harry realized that he had no idea. "Actually, I don't know. I pretty much stopped living in the Muggle world six years ago. I don't know a lot about Muggle marriages. But I don't know much about wizard ones either."

"I suppose not."

Harry stared at his knees, lost in his thoughts.

"Harry?"

"Yeah? Sorry."

"You sound very down."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Would it help to have friends come visit your new quarters?"

"It did, the other day, but it's not the same. They're just visitors. They go back to their dorms eventually, and I'm still stuck here."

Another silence descended, and Harry looked up as Malfoy touched his shoulder.

"Potter? It's getting late."

"Yeah," Harry said dispiritedly. "I'll be there in a few minutes." Malfoy nodded, putting his things away and going to get ready for bed.

"Does this talking help, at all?" Lupin asked gently.

"I think so. I don't know." Harry sighed. "I better go to bed."

Lupin looked like he was as much at a loss as Harry. "Harry..."

"Thanks. For, for listening. You know. I'll, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night."

Harry got ready for bed mechanically, lay down and stared at the ceiling, unable to get past his feelings of sadness and loss, his confusion.

Everything was moving so quickly. Less than a week ago, he'd been secure in the knowledge that, unless Voldemort screwed up his life unexpectedly, he belonged in the seventh-year boys' dorm in Gryffindor Tower and in Muggle Studies and on the Quidditch team. And now, here he was. No dorm, different classes, no Quidditch, lying right next to a boy he'd hated for the better part of six years. He glanced over at Malfoy already asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful.

It had all changed too fast, and it was continuing to change too fast. They were next to each other all the time. They were touching each other all the time - pushing, shoving, elbowing each other out of the way... and tapping arms to get each other's attention, leaning over each other's shoulders to look at notes in class, brushing past each other as they moved around their quarters. He'd even realized the other day during Potions that his leg was lightly touching Malfoy's under their desk, and he had no idea how long they'd been sitting like that. He'd only noticed because Malfoy had turned to make a sneering remark about Harry's Potions essay to Pansy, and Harry's leg suddenly felt a little cooler. He hadn't noticed the contact; only the lack of it when it was withdrawn.

A little more noticeable had been this morning, when he woke up with Malfoy's hand on his shoulder and Malfoy still deeply asleep beside him. They were still in separate beds, but getting closer and he was starting to worry that one of them would wake up having dropped in between the beds. Pomfrey had noted that they'd soon have to get used to sleeping in the same bed.

And they would. Get used to it, that is. He was getting used to all of it. They still got on each other's nerves, but they were able to go for longer periods of time being civil to one another, and sometimes it wasn't a strain, it was just daily life. It was hard to keep up constant animosity every single time your... roommate asked if you'd seen his tie. It was all getting to be routine.

Somehow, he didn't think that what was supposed to come later on in this "progression" would be this easy to get used to. Especially as he was now actively dreading it.