Bond

Chapter 5

October 21 - October 22

Day 23, Wednesday, continued

"This is impossible. They are impossible," Snape could be heard saying, several hours later.

The merry band was together again, discussing their 'case', but this time Draco and Potter were not invited to the party. Legally of age or not, the rest of them had decided they were too bond-addled to be trusted to make any decisions for themselves. Instead they'd had their wands confiscated, been patched up, and given calming potions. And now, here they were, cooling their heels in a small sitting room outside Dumbledore's office while the discussion went on inside, Draco on a sofa and Potter pacing the room restlessly, both trying to ignore the portraits moving from frame to frame whispering about them.

"Malfoy," Potter said hesitantly, breaking the silence in the room. Draco looked up. "We're in trouble, aren't we?"

"Brilliant powers of observation, Potter," Draco replied tiredly. "What was your first hint?" He flicked his eyes at the blood still staining Potter's white shirt, knowing his own was blood-spattered too. Pomfrey had been too disgusted with them to give them time to change or clean up after healing their injuries.

"What-" Potter stopped, cleared his throat. "What do you think they'll decide?"

"No clue."

"I... I have a feeling I won't like it."

"I doubt I will either," Draco said. "I'm not sure they can decide anything, though. We are both adults."

"They may not be able to force us to do anything, but they can make things difficult for us if we don't obey. We could be expelled. Or disowned or something, in your case."

"My father wouldn't disown me."

"Really? What would he do instead?"

Draco frowned.

"Malfoy... what could he do to you, that makes you so afraid of him?" Potter asked hesitantly.

"I'm not afraid of him."

"Bollocks," Potter replied bluntly. "You are. You're not all that concerned about what Dumbledore or anybody else at school might do, but you're terrified of the fact that your father is in there with them."

"Does the bond now include Legilimency for you? No? Then don't presume to tell me how I'm feeling and why."

"I don't need Legilimency. I know how you feel, and it's the same way you felt that day in the hospital when you contradicted him in public. You nearly had a heart attack."

"We'd just been through a lot of stress-"

"Nothing to do with it. You were afraid of him." Potter's gaze was direct and uncompromising.

Draco bit his lip. Yes, he'd realized years ago that his feelings for his father, his respect and admiration and love, were also tinged with an unhealthy amount of fear. He'd noticed that none of his friends seemed to feel that same bone-deep terror of their fathers that Draco felt for his. Maybe their fathers didn't regularly threaten them with expulsion from the family, or remind them that not living up to their family's expectations would result in a life of misery, or viciously hex them as part of a 'disciplined upbringing'.

Yes, he bloody well was afraid of his father, and had good reason to be. But there was no way he would admit anything like that to Potter, of all people.

On the other hand, it was stupid to pretend there was no basis to what Potter was saying. Because he was right; Lucius' presence in that office was terrifying him right now. He didn't have any idea what his father would do to him, because he'd long ago given up imagining for himself what Lucius could come up with. His worst fears sometimes paled next to the real thing.

He swallowed. "Do you have a point, Potter?"

"I don't want to just do whatever they say."

"Neither do I. We don't exactly have a choice, though, do we?"

Potter took a deep breath. "We're not handling this terribly well."

"Once again, your powers of detecting the thoroughly obvious-"

"Shut up. We're under pressure from everybody and from ourselves, and even though you're taking a patience potion, it's not enough to cope with how you feel about me or my friends, and your school work on top of that."

"Thank you, Potter. I never would have reached those conclusions on my own-"

"And I can't handle how I feel about you, I hate the way you treat me and my friends and how fucked up your entire worldview is, and I'm sick of being on display for everyone at school to talk about, and..." Potter swallowed hard and plunged on, "And, and I'm fucking terrified of letting you get close to me, or letting myself get close to you."

Draco's mouth dropped open. There was a long silence as he digested the fact that Potter had just said what he had said.

Finally he cleared his throat. "All right," he said slowly. "I take it you do have a point, then? What is it?"

"We need to work things out, between the two of us."

"We've tried."

"No, we haven't. We've been existing next to each other and trying to muddle through and accepting advice every so often from other people. We haven't talked much at all."

"We did this morning."

"Did a pretty good job of it, too."

Draco smiled, not aware he was doing so until Potter gave him a small smile in return. "Yeah, we did."

"So it is possible. For us to work things out, I mean."

"I suppose so."

"So let's try. Do you want to drop out of classes?"

"No." He paused. All right, if Potter was going to lay his cards on the table, he supposed he should do the same. It went against every Slytherin instinct he had, but... the alternative might not be terribly attractive, depending on what came out of Dumbledore's office. "I don't. But we're not getting any useful learning right now. I can barely concentrate long enough to write my name on a piece of parchment."

Potter smiled ruefully. "I know the feeling. I keep feeling like I have to fight to clear my head all the time, because if I don't-" he broke off and blushed. "Well, you can probably guess what I end up thinking about."

"Probably," Draco said dryly.

Potter drew in a deep breath. He moved closer to Draco. "How I feel - how we both feel - it's so bloody wrong."

"Why? It's just sexual attraction. Don't tell me you've never felt that before."

"Not this badly."

Draco swallowed hard. "Why is that so wrong?"

"Because I don't want to feel this. We don't love each other. We don't even like each other. I don't want to-"

God not this again. "Potter, we're seventeen. Love and like don't have to enter the equation when it comes to sex."

"I'm scared."

"Of what?" Draco asked, knowing there was something just plain wrong about hearing that and not using it against Potter immediately, but Father was in the other room and god only knew what was being discussed in there. He and Potter had to work together, and they had to do it now.

"Getting hurt."

"You're getting hurt right now," he gestured at Potter's bloodstained shirt. "I almost hexed you into next year a few hours ago. We weren't going to do anything like a Giggle Spell or turn each other green; we were both going to do serious damage. You're miserable, and so am I. How could having sex be worse than all of this?"

Potter shrugged. "Fear of the unknown, I suppose."

Draco nodded. "Out of curiosity, what do you think they're going to decide in there?"

"To give me some potion or something to - to make me not fight this any more," Potter blushed, turning away.

"Potter..." Draco stood and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Why would that be the end of the world?"

"Because, because then I wouldn't have any control over anything-"

"You don't have much control now-"

"I don't want to-" Potter tried to wrench himself away but Draco held on, keeping his touch as gentle as he could while still maintaining contact.

"They may not, you know." Potter crossed his arms tightly and Draco realized he was shivering. "Potter. You're panicking again." He projected calm and was rewarded by the feeling of Potter's fear slowly subsiding.

Then Potter put a hand over Draco's, and their eyes met, and all of a sudden it wasn't just about nerves or fear or anger. Their emotions were still raw and volatile despite the calming potions, their hands touching, and the ever-present attraction came rushing back to the forefront. And Draco wanted nothing more than to draw closer - and then Potter was actually doing so, and there was so little space between them but Potter was nervous and Draco didn't want to spook him by breaking his promise to not push him and then Potter had shifted just a little closer, close enough for Draco to feel his breath as they both looked down at their clasped hands and then there was no space between them, their bodies were touching and their foreheads coming to rest against each other and Draco gasped before he could stop himself.

Oh, Merlin... it was ridiculous, they were in the Headmaster's sitting room, and they were supposed to be talking about what to do, and instead he was stunningly aroused and he could tell Potter was too, and then Potter's other hand was coming up and touching Draco's shoulder and then traveling up to his neck, his cheek, and he was closing his eyes and leaning into the touch, and his knees were feeling weak and it was incredible.

He drew his arms down Potter's back, bringing them closer together, and Potter was trembling, and Draco was trying to regain control over his breathing, but that seemed just about impossible. His chest felt tight and small tremors were moving through his whole body, and he felt Potter's breath hitch like it had this morning when he was dreaming and he looked up and met Potter's eyes again.

"Oh god," Potter said very quietly, one hand still cupping Draco's cheek and the other now nestling into his hair. Their gaze was getting uncomfortable, but Draco had no idea where to take them next. Had Potter been a girl, there would have been no question, a kiss would have been the logical next step, but with another boy... and one he didn't actually like... and one who he wasn't sure wanted that kind of thing... what should they do?

They probably looked like a right pair of idiots, Draco thought, both turned on but having no clue what to do with their feelings. Potter stepped closer and now they were pressed together, and it was a little too intense, he could feel Potter's erection and knew the other boy could feel his and it was just... he moved back a bit and Potter chuckled quietly.

"Don't know quite what to do now, do you?"

"Er... no."

"And I thought I was the inexperienced one," Potter drew his hand over Draco's cheek and Draco sighed, Oh, that felt really, really good, and he moved his hands along the long, smooth muscles of Potter's back, coming to rest on his hips, and felt, somehow, Potter's heart rate speeding up.

He moved closer again, reflecting in the small part of his brain that could still form coherent thought that the bond spell wasn't all bad after all. A spell that could turn standing close to another person and running your hands over their fully clothed body while they did the same to you into something this intensely pleasurable had some merit to it after all. No wonder people used the spell even if they were already in love.

One of Potter's hands was still cupping his cheek and the other was now gently caressing the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes and dropped his head back and sighed.

"That's OK?" Potter asked quietly, and Draco shivered a little as Potter's breath tickled the side of his neck. He nodded, trying to steady his breathing and failing utterly, his pulse racing just like Potter's.

He lifted his hand to Potter's face, to his cheek, and Potter leaned into his touch and pressed his mouth into Draco's palm and a jolt of pleasure seared through him. He pulled away automatically and then Potter started to pull away too, but Draco murmured, "No, don't stop, that was - um, don't stop-", and then he was leaning closer and he could feel Potter's breath on his cheek, and suddenly he didn't care whether this was the done thing or not, he wanted to - but... oh, hell...

Their lips were so close. Surely if Potter didn't want to, he would move away? He moved forward tentatively, and Potter's breath drew in sharply but he didn't back away. And then suddenly Potter had covered the last of the distance between them, and their lips were touching. And it didn't matter worth a damn what was the done thing, because Potter's lips were so soft and this wasn't so different from anybody else Draco had kissed after all, it was sensual and arousing and exciting except just a tad more so because he'd been on edge and wanting this so intensely for what seemed like forever, and he heard a small sound of delight coming from one of them, and it didn't matter which one-

"Oh," that was definitely Potter who'd spoken, a soft sound uttered into the space between them. Draco tilted his head to the side a little, and Potter parted his lips and they tentatively touched tongues and oh, this really wasn't that different from kissing a girl - except that the girls Draco had kissed had never pulled him close with a strength that matched his own, and the sound Potter made in his throat was much lower and the awareness Draco felt for him was different - although whether that was due to Potter's gender or the bond spell was impossible to tell and really not that relevant anyway.

The fact that he was starting to feel light-headed was relevant, though. Light-headed and anxious to not have this interrupted by a stream of people pouring out of Dumbledore's office. It made him both want to speed this up so that they could... whatever... before that happened, and slow them down so they wouldn't be interrupted at an even more inopportune moment.

But god, the heat and the excitement of their lips caressing and their tongues touching, less tentative now, more confident, more demanding... no, he couldn't end this...

"Um," Potter broke away for a moment, "we should, we should probably-" and he kissed Draco again, a soft moan escaping him, and Draco didn't know or care what he'd been about to say. Except, Potter had probably thought-

"Yeah, we should," Draco drew away long enough to whisper. "We should - um," he kissed Potter again, "we need to st-" and Potter stopped his words with another kiss - and this wasn't going so well, it was like telling a starving man to stop eating after two mouthfuls, it just wasn't going to happen.

"No, no, we have to-" Potter drew away, gasping, and put one hand flat on Draco's chest, pushing him back just a little, and Draco would have felt rejected and angry but it was hard to feel that way when Potter's other arm was wrapped around his waist and his chest was heaving and he was still making small movements against Draco, now settling his forehead onto Draco's shoulder and muttering, "God, I'd no idea stopping would be this um, hard," and then Draco was chuckling and Potter was joining in.

"Um, yeah. That part's never fun."

"Oh, good," they both jumped at the voice that came from the doorway across the room, and Healer Esposito chuckled. "I thought you were never going to come up for air."

They started to move apart, then Potter tightened his grip on Draco and they stood still as the Healer closed the door behind her and approached them.

"I thought you might like to know what's going on - or rather, what was going on in there," she said, seating herself comfortably in one of the armchairs. "The general consensus was, of course, that this was not working and you two needed intervention, but there the consensus appeared to end. One camp felt that the best course of action was some fairly potent potions for you, Mr. Potter," Potter breathed in sharply and Draco automatically rubbed his back to soothe him, "and the other seemed to feel that something in the order of a complete personality change was in order for you, Mr. Malfoy. There were varying degrees of support for suspending you both from school indefinitely and sending you directly to me at St. Mungo's. Your father, you may be interested to know, Mr. Malfoy, declared himself ready to back this up with 'incentives' for you if you did not agree with that particular course of action."

Draco suppressed a shudder, wondering if his father had actually stated out loud what he meant by that, and deliberately avoided Potter's curious glance.

"Well." The Healer smiled brightly. "That's about it, in a nutshell, not that it matters anyway but I thought you'd like to know."

"Why - er, why doesn't it matter?" Potter's voice was husky and a little shaken, and the Healer smiled at him reassuringly.

"Because when I sensed what was going on in here, I pretty much put my foot down and declared a moratorium on any outside suggestions."

"You sensed-" "Moratorium - how?" they spoke together, and Esposito motioned them to sit.

"I sensed because I'm a Bonding Spells Specialist and I'm trained to detect signs of improvement in my patients from a reasonable distance away. Not that I think I needed that particular training - probably half the school felt what was going on in here."

"What??"

"Oh for heaven's sake relax, Mr. Potter, I'm exaggerating. I sensed it, as did Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore. And, for some reason, Professor Snape." Draco noted with amusement that Potter blanched a little at that. "Any spell activating that strongly was bound to send off a few sparks, but rest assured you do not need to worry about the entire school being aware of your romantic activities. In any case. The moratorium: I make it a practice to never interfere with a couple's attempts to salvage their bond, if those attempts are genuine."

"What - what attempts?"

"Obviously I don't know exactly what led up to this-" she waved an amused hand at them and Draco felt himself blushing slightly, "But I assume it was preceded by some kind of discussion between the two of you, basically agreeing that you want to try to make this work - together?" Draco and Potter nodded, bemused. "There you go. That's no guarantee of anything, but it is a move in the right direction and I much prefer to allow such attempts some room to succeed rather than take over completely. Your father," she nodded at Draco, "was none too pleased about this and threatened to demand St. Mungo's suspend my Healer's licence. But the fact is, I'm the Healer of record here and he will abide by my recommendation whether he wants to or not. And my recommendation is that you should be allowed time to yourselves, to continue what you started here, as long as you are genuinely committed to taking that time and using it wisely."

"What does that mean?" Draco asked cautiously.

"Get to know one another, gentlemen. Stop all classes until at least next Monday and bloody well get to know one another as spouses, or even as human beings, instead of schoolyard rivals. We all suggested this at the beginning, but of course we didn't know anything back then, did we? And of course you two knew it all." She snorted in amusement.

"But-"

"Tut, Mr. Potter. Stay in your rooms or go somewhere off school grounds altogether. Ask one another about your lives and childhoods, learn each others' favourite foods, favourite Quidditch teams - talk about Quidditch and how you feel about not playing any more, if that'll help. And get comfortable with each other sexually. Do nothing but that for a few days."

"We'll kill each other," Draco said flatly.

"You won't. You've proven you can co-exist despite your history of enmity, despite your different personalities, despite the stress of the situation you're in. You've proven you can get along, as long as you've got support and you aren't too stressed - you did it for six days after you were released from the hospital."

"We hit each other. We almost hexed each other," Potter pointed out.

"It was only the sexual tension from the bond, combined with the pressure of school, that caused this latest crisis."

"How can you be sure?"

She shrugged. "I can't be 100 percent sure. I can just give my considered opinion, based on watching bonded couples of every conceivable personality combination work out their problems for twenty-five years. Although I did hear some fairly disturbing evidence that neither one of you is particularly good at controlling your tempers. And apparently this kind of thing with your magic getting out of hand has happened a few times before, hasn't it, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes."

"But not for years. I believe that today the fact that your tempers were feeding into each other is what caused it to be so... spectacular."

"So how is leaving us to fight it out alone going to-"

"Oh, no no no, you're not going to fight out anything. And you won't really be alone; I will be monitoring you frequently, and I'm giving you each a portkey to St. Mungo's, which you will carry at all times and activate the moment you feel even slightly unsafe in each other's company."

"But I thought the whole point of going back to the dorms was so we wouldn't be isolated-"

"And I stand by that. You'll go back there after you come back from this getting-to-know-you exercise. Nobody will make you live in isolation for the rest of the year. This is only four days together, free of school and social pressures, and you've shown you can do it."

Draco and Potter stared at her.

"Any questions?" She smiled at their blank faces. "Right, then. Let's get you back to your quarters."

"But what about-"

"Don't worry about anybody else in that office, Mr. Malfoy. Just follow me. Healer's orders."

ooooooo

"Erm, about the beds..." Potter said nervously that night as they entered their bedroom.

"Yeah, about the beds." Draco crossed his arms and they stood, facing the beds that were just as they'd left them, right next to each other. Potter swallowed hard and Draco pushed down his impatience.

The Healer had finally left them around dinner time, leaving behind their clothing, school materials, a list of suggestions on how to pass the time, and reassurances. They'd spent the evening organizing their quarters again, eating dinner, studying a bit, and had even managed to push past their embarrassment enough to look at the list of suggestions and cover two items they'd chosen as non-controversial, easy beginnings.

"I don't think I'm up to 'discuss your future together' or 'describe your worst fear,' thanks," Potter had said dryly, and Draco had to laugh, because somehow he knew they were both thinking, 'especially as they're both the same thing'. "How about 'tell each other what your favourite class is and why' and 'describe a happy day in your past'?"

"Fair enough," he'd said, and they'd both done their best to take the assignment seriously. With Potter facing the spectre of forced mood-altering potions and Draco facing god only knew what from his father, the idea of opening up about favourite classes and happy days seemed ridiculously easy.

They'd gotten past the awkwardness of what had happened earlier in the day - all of it. The morning's activities, the fight, the almost-hexing, and the conference of concerned adults. But they hadn't yet really faced what being here together meant.

"Are you nervous?" Draco now asked bluntly.

Potter shrugged self-consciously. "Yeah, a bit."

"I won't-"

"I'm not afraid of what you'll do. I'm - um, I, I-" he stopped and steadied himself. "Look, I'm having dreams a lot. And I don't want to wake up to find that during the night-"

"That you've come a little too close for comfort?"

Potter nodded.

"What if you have? Why is that so awful?"

"I'm not ready."

"And you never will be, if you don't loosen up a little," muttered Draco. He took a deep breath. "Look, it's your call. Push them apart or leave them as they are or turn them into one bed, I don't care. I'm going to get ready for bed." He turned and went into the washroom, reminding himself that they had to, had to, had to work together. And that insulting or hurting or embarrassing Potter was simply not on the menu of acceptable behaviour any more.

And that if he ever found out who in hell cursed them, he would use at least two of the three Unforgivables and do his very best to invent a fourth.

He emerged, patience potion downed and teeth brushed, and didn't make a single comment as Potter went past him into the washroom and he saw that the two beds had been transformed into one. Just stripped down to underthings and got in, realizing as his head hit the pillow that he was truly and utterly exhausted.

He closed his eyes and barely heard Potter come back into the room, managing only to murmur "G'night" before he slipped off to sleep.

ooooooo

Day 24, Thursday

Harry yawned and slowly stretched, looked over at the clock lazily, then sat up so fast his head spun.

"Shit! Transfigurations!" he gulped, whipping around at an unexpected sound - laughter.

"Potter." Malfoy was sitting back against the headboard, still wearing the same t-shirt and pants he'd gone to bed in, a book on his lap, laughing at him. "We're 'voluntarily suspended', remember?" Harry gaped at him and Malfoy waved at the night table on Harry's side of the bed. "The house elves brought you breakfast. Relax and enjoy it."

Harry dropped back onto the bed, relief washing over him. God, the only thing worse than arriving late for McGonagall's class was arriving late for Snape's. He lay there until the dizzy feeling subsided, then sat up to inspect his breakfast tray, which seemed brimming with all his favourite breakfast foods.

"Dobby," he said fondly, and Malfoy looked up from his book.

"Dobby?"

"House elf. He likes me."

"We had a house elf named - oh. Right."

"Yeah."

"That explains why my toast was soggy and my pumpkin juice was warm."

Harry choked on his juice and tried to cover it, but Malfoy didn't look angry - in fact, he looked amused.

"Potter, I was joking. No house elf would knowingly put bad food on a tray, no matter who was eating it. My toast was fine." He went back to his book.

"What are you reading?"

"Potions."

"Aren't we supposed to be off school?"

"Out of classes, not out of school. Besides, this isn't our textbook."

"You read Potions extra-curricularly?"

"How quickly you forget. Remember a long discussion of Favourite School Subject and Why, Potter? Last night?"

"I know, I just didn't know you liked it that much."

"I do. Besides, it's certainly a more pleasant way to start the day than reading the Prophet."

Harry groaned and closed his eyes. "Oh, god. What d'you suppose they'll say about yesterday?"

"I have absolutely no desire to find out, though I'm sure Pansy will cut out every article and try to show them to me when we come back. I'll have to figure out how to charm her memory so she thinks she's shown them to me already."

Harry sighed. "When you figure out how, teach me. Dean Thomas does the same thing to me."

"Merlin, why would anybody want to read tripe like that about themselves?" Malfoy shook his head and turned a page.

Harry considered a number of responses to that, and finally decided that instead of beginning the day with a fight about how Malfoy had always assumed that Harry liked reading tripe like that about himself, he would simply not respond. He would go to the washroom instead.

Getting away whenever Malfoy pissed him off might be a very good strategy, he told himself as he washed shaving potion off his face a few minutes later. They had four days to work together to build something that wouldn't fall apart at the first sign of pressure. A fight would be an inauspicious beginning, to say the least. Malfoy seemed to be trying to not be overly obnoxious; the least Harry could do was to not get riled up about Malfoy being completely unaware of how obnoxious he'd been in the past.

Harry finished and returned to the bedroom, feeling much less pissed off, but hungry. He grabbed the breakfast tray, sat down cross-legged at the foot of the bed, and attacked his breakfast with enthusiasm, glancing over at Malfoy.

Malfoy looked relaxed and far more at ease than Harry normally saw him. His light grey t-shirt was dusted with a few crumbs, book propped up against his knees, attention focussed on the book, one finger absently worrying a lock of his hair. He didn't look like the enemy. He looked like a normal teenage boy, far removed from anything more sinister than school pranks.

Was this what Harry was so afraid of?

Then Malfoy looked up and Harry felt his toast stick to the back of his throat. "What?" Malfoy asked.

"Nothing. I was just wondering - I hope nobody's worried about us," Harry said quickly.

Malfoy shrugged. "I'm sure Snape and McGonagall explained everything to our housemates. They'll know we didn't kill each other or get expelled."

"A little too close, though."

"To which?"

"Either. Both."

"Yeah," Malfoy marked his place, flipped his book shut and put it away carefully before turning back to Harry.

Silence.

"So." Malfoy paused. "What now?"

"Um... I, I don't know, do you - um, should we look at the list-"

"Sod the list for a minute," Malfoy said. Harry swallowed nervously, wishing they could just grab the list and pick a random topic because he wasn't sure he wanted to do whatever Malfoy had in mind. "I want to apologize," Malfoy said bluntly.

It took Harry a moment to process that. "What??"

"I want to apologize, for yesterday. I was pissed off and I took it out on you. And the Mud- er, and Granger."

"Oh."

Silence.

"This is where you either say 'Apology accepted' or 'Up yours', Potter."

"Oh. Right - apology accepted."

Malfoy grinned. "That wasn't quite as painful as I expected it to be," he commented.

"Heh, yeah," Harry said uncomfortably.

Malfoy frowned. "Potter?" Harry gulped. "Oh, god," Malfoy muttered, then sat up, coming into Harry's personal space. Harry shifted backwards automatically, and Malfoy rolled his eyes but sat back against the headboard, spreading his hands. "Look, I'm not touching you, I'm not in your space. Can you relax?"

Harry nodded, feeling foolish as only Malfoy could make him feel. He took a sip of his cocoa, getting rid of the dryness of the toast. He set his cup back on the tray, noting that his hands were shaking slightly and wanting to roll his eyes at himself. Malfoy was right, this was stupid.

In fact, this was beyond stupid. He put his breakfast tray back on the night table, took a deep breath and met Malfoy's eyes, noting the barely contained annoyance that shifted suddenly into surprise as he moved closer.

"What-"

"We're supposed to get 'comfortable' with each other," Harry said, "whatever that means. And, and you said you wanted me to lead here. So... I'm leading."

Malfoy looked rather thoroughly thrown off, and Harry started to smile despite his own discomfort at the situation. "Don't tell me you're nervous now," he chuckled.

"Me? No. Well. Yes. A bit." Malfoy started to look a little irate as Harry's chuckle widened into a laugh. "Stop that."

"You should see yourself," Harry grinned. Malfoy looked down at himself, noticing that he'd gone from a relaxed pose, leaning against the headboard with knees updrawn and arms loosely clasped around them, to almost hugging his knees against his chest and radiating defensiveness. He rolled his eyes, unfolding himself and mirroring Harry's cross-legged posture, visibly forcing himself to relax.

"Better?" he asked sarcastically.

"Why are you nervous? You're the one with all the experience and no 'Muggle hang-ups'."

"Yeah, well..." Malfoy was looking away now, a blush heating his face. Harry opened his mouth to make another snide remark and then closed it.

This was very new territory to both of them, he reminded himself. And if he needled Malfoy too much, Malfoy would very probably snap and turn sarcastic and sneering again, and that wouldn't help either of them.

He bit his lip, not knowing where to go from here, then decided to just go with his gut. Shifted forward so that their knees were touching, and reached out for Malfoy's hand. Malfoy drew in his breath sharply, but took Harry's hand in his.

"What are you nervous about?" Harry asked quietly.

"I... I don't know." Malfoy took a deep breath. "Scaring you off. Screwing this up." He swallowed. "Fighting with you again."

"I don't want to fight either."

"We always seem to end up there, though."

"Not right now," Harry pointed out.

"No."

Harry laced their fingers together and rubbed the top of Malfoy's hand with his thumb, reflecting that though they'd done this a couple of times, this was the first time they were actually able to do it without fear of interruption. He looked up to find that Malfoy's eyes had closed and Malfoy was breathing very deeply.

"Malfoy?"

"I didn't... I didn't think the bond spell would make such a difference. I thought Pomfrey was exaggerating."

"About what?"

He opened his eyes. "She said there was more sensitivity under the spell. That, that senses and emotions were heightened, that kind of thing. I... I guess it's true."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, don't you - oh. No, you wouldn't know."

"Er, no."

"It's heightened. Trust me." Malfoy took another deep breath. "It's a little too... intense. Sometimes."

"It's not just me, then? That thinks so?"

"No."

Harry gently let go of Malfoy's hand and touched Malfoy's knee, then ran his fingers lightly over his lower thigh and back to his knee. He leaned a bit closer, peering at his leg, and chuckled.

"What?"

"I can feel it, but I can't see it. Your leg hair - it's almost transparent."

Malfoy smiled a little, amused. "We've been sleeping in the same room for weeks, you never noticed that?"

"I suppose I wasn't looking."

"You'd never make it as a spy, Potter."

"I hope I never have to," Harry responded lightly, but the temperature in the room seemed to dip down a few degrees regardless and they both looked away from each other, slightly uncomfortable. Dangerous territory, this.

Then Malfoy cleared his throat and shook his head, apparently determined to not let them go down that particular conversational path. He ran his fingers across Harry's knee, mirroring Harry's actions. "You're so much darker than I am," he observed. "Nobody would ever call you part-Veela."

"You've been called part-Veela?"

"Drives my father insane, that. Nobody says it seriously, and our pedigree's documented back about twenty generations, but it's still a good way to get a rise out of him."

"Why? Fleur Delacour was; it didn't seem to bother her."

"Fleur Delacour is not a Malfoy. We pride ourselves on being purebloods. Pure blood doesn't include non-human blood."

"Would it be better or worse than having Muggle blood?"

"For Father, who knows. He's never been accused of being part-Muggle. But I overheard one of his friends tell a story once about how when he was at school another boy started a rumour about him being part-Veela. Father cursed him with runaway hirsutism and severe goat-like body odour." Harry burst out laughing. "Almost got away with it too, but a teacher found out and he got detentions for two weeks."

"I find it impossible to imagine your father in detention," Harry chuckled.

Malfoy suddenly scowled and withdrew, hugging his knees to his chest again. "I don't," he said curtly. Harry blinked, confused, then mentally replayed his own words and clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Oh - oh, shit, I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry. Shit!"

Malfoy looked away, lips pressed together tightly.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He sat back, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, what a way to kill the mood," he said ruefully.

Malfoy's gave a startled laugh, then sobered again. He shrugged. "Yeah, well. Apology accepted," he said grudgingly.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Um, what do you want to do now?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and started to get off the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find the bloody list," Harry muttered.

"Sod the list. I don't feel like talking."

"There's not just talking on the list."

"We just tried that. As you pointed out, the mood is effectively dead."

"Maybe we should talk about that then."

"Maybe absolutely not," Malfoy shot back immediately. "Would you like us to have a cozy little chat about my father's time in Azkaban? Maybe discuss the finer points of what exactly you had to do with it, who was in the right, what does it all mean - do you want to get to where we're about to kill each other again?"

"No. But we can't ignore it forever."

"We bloody well can."

"Not if it makes you this angry-"

"Don't analyse my feelings, Potter! You can't tell everything going on inside me just because of the damned bond!"

"Really?" Harry shot back defiantly. "You're angry just thinking about it. You're ashamed that your father was imprisoned like a common criminal. You're scared to talk about it and face it. You're angry at me for bringing it up, and at yourself - probably because I didn't bring it up, you just heard it from something I said that had nothing to do with Azkaban. And I'll bet that's not the first time an innocent remark's gone a little too close to home for you. You're confused and you wish you could just run away from it."

Malfoy was gaping at him. Harry sort of wanted to gape at himself; he'd had no idea he could read Malfoy's feelings that well, but there they were, and he knew he'd nailed most of them.

"Am I close?"

Malfoy scowled at him.

"And now you're annoyed because I'm dead-on. You're disturbed that you're that easy to read by anybody, even me. Or maybe especially me." Malfoy looked away. Harry sighed, his brief anger dying down. "Malfoy... you're not that easy to read," he said tiredly. "It's just the spell. You could probably do the same thing to me if you tried for half a minute."

Malfoy looked at him speculatively. "All right, then." He closed his eyes, then started to speak slowly. "You're wondering if we'll ever be able to live together without setting each other off all the time. You can't decide whether you're more upset at me or at yourself. You're angry because... because you feel like apologizing for putting my father in prison. You're afraid we won't be able to work anything out and you'll be forced to - Merlin, Potter, you're bloody well obsessed with this 'lack of control over sex' issue." He opened his eyes and smirked at Harry. "Sex isn't even about control a lot of the time, you git. Most of the time it's the exact opposite."

"What?"

"It's not about thinking and deciding and following the right steps or anything. It's about letting go and feeling good."

"Feeling good? That's all there is to it? What about feeling something for the other person? Or caring how they feel?"

"There's no reason you can't do both. You - you're over-thinking this," Malfoy put a hand on Harry's knee and Harry almost flinched, but Malfoy leaned closer anyway, his smirk fading and a serious expression coming into his face. "It's not about thinking, it's about feeling."

Harry swallowed. "I, I know, but-"

"But you don't like the lack of control. You're not in control right now." He tilted his head to the side. "And... that scares you."

"You're not in control of your own feelings either - you're still angry over what I said about your father-"

"I don't want to talk about him," Malfoy said in a steely voice. "I'd very much like to forget all about him right now, if you don't mind. He's not here. We are."

Harry swallowed, his mouth going dry.

"You're still confused but you're also turned on. And you don't know what to do about it." Malfoy slowly ran his fingertips halfway up Harry's thigh, then back down. "Potter, at least this is something we can do something about. The rest - our families and our history and all of that - we'll never get anywhere on any of that."

Harry felt unwelcome emotions flooding back - desire, the need to be closer, to not have to talk - he stopped Malfoy's hand as it started moving up his leg again.

"Are you sure you want me to stop?" Malfoy asked quietly, and Harry realized that no, he didn't. He shook his head and Malfoy smiled and resumed his light touch moving up Harry's leg and Harry briefly congratulated himself for still being dressed in very loose clothing that hid his body's reaction to what Malfoy was doing. He slid his own hand up Malfoy's arm, to his neck, into his hair, then looked at Malfoy, whose hand had grown still upon Harry's knee and who was looking at him with guarded anticipation.

Harry swallowed, started to lean forward a bit, and Malfoy followed suit until they were just close enough, then he closed his eyes and touched their lips together. He could feel the lingering anger and frustration in Malfoy, mixed with desire and surprise, then Malfoy parted his lips and they were kissing deeply but slightly awkwardly, still sitting cross-legged. Then Malfoy came up to his knees and Harry uncrossed one leg and they were closer, this was better, this was much, much better, and Malfoy's hands came up to caress Harry's face and hair and bring him closer and then Malfoy was pulling Harry back so that they came to rest half-sitting against the headboard, free to explore each other comfortably.

And Harry's body was responding more and more eagerly to the lips and hands touching him. Frustration and anger were melting away, everything was melting away but the heady sensations, the possibilities. He shivered as Malfoy's lips left his and started to move towards his cheek, his ear, sparking little jolts of pleasure that made him gasp and unconsciously tighten his hold on Malfoy.

"Is that all right?" Malfoy murmured in between small movements of his lips on Harry's ear, and Harry nodded wordlessly. Then Malfoy was working his way down Harry's neck and pressing soft bites into the juncture of his shoulder and neck, and Harry was biting his lip to not cry out, but he could hear small whimpers escaping.

"I can't believe you've never done this before," Malfoy whispered, amused at his reactions, coming back to his mouth. "Didn't you ever wonder what you were missing?" he asked, then prevented Harry from answering by covering Harry's mouth with his own.

"Yeah, I did," Harry admitted as they came up for air. "I... I did." He moaned as Malfoy went back to his neck, then squirmed a bit, "That's, that's too much-" Malfoy backed off and they paused while Harry caught his breath and tried to ignore the fact that his pulse was racing faster than he thought it had ever gone before, and every nerve was tingling and he felt so, so alive...

He glanced at Malfoy to find him chewing on his lip, eyes half-closed, one hand grasping at the blankets. "Are you - are you all right?" he whispered, and Malfoy shook his head slightly.

"No, I'm - it's a bit too much for me too, I, I need - um, no, I-" Malfoy said breathlessly, and came back to Harry's mouth for a moment, then broke off again. Harry hesitantly moved his mouth to Malfoy's ear, trying to mimic what Malfoy had done, licking the hollow behind his ear and drawing back quickly as Malfoy cried out in surprise. Malfoy turned to him quickly, one hand winding into his hair, urgently whispering, "No, no don't stop, go back-"

And it was a pretty powerful sensation, such small actions getting such intense reactions. He tried to remember what Malfoy had done to him, how he'd kissed and licked his skin and where and how long - and then he wasn't trying to remember anything, he was just reacting to Malfoy's sounds and movements and what he could feel through their bond. Almost feeling what Malfoy was feeling, the spikes of sensation that drove small cries from his mouth, the burning need for more that finally had Malfoy biting his lip and squirming in frustration.

He pressed their upper bodies together, Malfoy's chest heaving against his, so incredibly warm through both of their t-shirts, the warmth in Harry's groin responding to the idea that if they lay down he'd feel Malfoy's erection against his own, and he needed to touch, he needed-

Although... on second thought, that was just a little farther than he was prepared to go. Even though last night they'd been that close, they'd had more clothing and more restraint then, being in Dumbledore's sitting room. This was just them, in thin sleepwear, in their own room, nothing to set any limits for them, and that was a little too far...

"Potter..." Malfoy finally murmured, "I think we're going to have to stop-" and he groaned as Harry left his neck and came back to his lips, "No, really," he was stopped by Harry's mouth on his, and he finally wrenched away long enough to say, a bit exasperated, "Potter, I'm going to come if you don't stop that now."

Harry stopped. He withdrew slightly, gazing into Malfoy's eyes, dark with desire. He swallowed, thought for half a second, then slowly came closer. "So go ahead, I won't stop you," he said and resumed his exploration of Malfoy's neck and ear and mouth, running one hand down Malfoy's back, coming to rest on his hip, smiling at Malfoy's bitten-back curse and his heightened level of excitement. Dimly he could sense that Malfoy was somewhat thrown by all of this, but then Malfoy's rational mind seemed to flicker off completely and his entire consciousness was taken over by awareness of his own body and Harry's actions. Malfoy had thrown his head back and closed his eyes, was gripping Harry so hard it was a little painful, but seemed frustrated as he squirmed under Harry's attentions and Harry tried to figure out what it was he needed.

Oh. He took Malfoy's hand and pressed it to the front of Malfoy's pants in suggestion, and Malfoy quickly bore down on himself, once, twice, and then his back was arching off the bed and he cried out as he came, and Harry, to his surprise, followed a few seconds later without having touched himself at all.

They lay together breathlessly, and Harry felt an extreme lassitude taking over him. He rolled onto his back and Malfoy made a small noise in his throat, prompting Harry to throw an arm back over him, which made Malfoy chuckle. He roused himself long enough to murmur the sheet-cleaning spell, then lapsed into half-awake contentment once more.