Bond

Chapter 6

October 22

Day 24, Thursday, continued

"We should probably get up," Malfoy said in a drowsy voice a long time later.

Harry mulled that over.

"Yeah, probably."

They listened to the rain for a little while, then Harry said, "I didn't know it was raining."

"Yeah, started a little while ago."

"Oh."

There was a long silence.

"Is it normal to be this tired afterwards?" Harry finally asked.

"Yeah, sometimes..." Malfoy yawned.

"Feel like I could sleep for a week."

"That's probably the spell," Malfoy said a long time later.

"Mm." Harry pondered that. "What for, though? That doesn't make sense..." he yawned. "The other stuff, pain from other people touching you, or needing to touch, that all makes sense to set up intimacy, but being this tired after you come... how would that help?"

"Who knows?" Malfoy asked, his voice sleepy and unconcerned. "Besides, we were cursed by an idiot, remember?"

"Right."

Harry lay there, listening to the rain and Malfoy's breathing, noting distantly that he'd never felt such an utter lack of hostility off of Malfoy during the whole time they'd been bonded.

"Right. Well. I'm not lying around all day," Harry finally said, realizing that unless he got them moving, they'd probably be there until the next morning.

"What are you going to do instead?" Malfoy asked disinterestedly.

"I'm going flying."

And Harry had the distinct pleasure of seeing Malfoy's eyes snap open in surprise, and then Malfoy's face lit up with a genuine smile.

ooooooo

"I missed this," Malfoy said as they sped towards the lake, his words almost lost in the wind.

"Me too," Harry said, a stupid useless sentimental lump in his throat. Until they'd lifted off, he hadn't really let himself think about just how much.

"Over there-" Malfoy pointed, "There's a good lookout point on that hill - here, follow me," he swerved off, and Harry followed, the sheer joy of being in the air again, of being free, filling him with energy.

They reached the lookout point far faster than either of them expected, and hovered over it for a moment.

"Land, or keep flying?" Harry asked.

Malfoy grinned. "Keep flying!" and Harry was hard-pressed to keep up as he took off.

He was good, Harry thoughts as they raced each other. He flew effortlessly, as though he were part of the wind itself - and through their bond, Harry realized that was how Malfoy felt. As though once he was on a broom, he was free of everything but the rush of the air around him.

Freedom, that's what flying was. They'd have to come out more often.

"Potter!" Malfoy yelled above the rush of the air.

"What?"

"I'm going to do some drills, don't fall behind," Malfoy said, starting a dive as he spoke. Harry grinned and followed, and they automatically settled into the Standard Quidditch Warm-Up Set: dives, rolls, tumbles, swerves, feints, all made more challenging by the fact that they had to stay close together. It was wonderful, working out again, and with a partner with whom he didn't have to hold back. Malfoy was meeting him at every acrobatic move, and they were slowly getting more and more competitive, but still relatively good-natured - more of a 'Look what I can do' than a spiteful 'Look how much better I am than you.'

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted at the end of a roll.

"What?"

"Seeker's Game? Best three out of five?"

Malfoy didn't bother to answer, but instead immediately headed back towards the school and the Quidditch storage area. Harry followed, hovering in the air as Malfoy darted into the hut, got the Quidditch box, and released the Snitch, kicking off and going up immediately.

They waited ten seconds, giving the Snitch a head start, then flew off to catch it.

Exhilarating, that's what it was, thought Harry. Skill against skill, no Bludgers, Quaffles, Beaters, Chasers or Keepers. Nothing but two Seekers pitting their speed and manoeuvrability against each other and the golden Snitch. And there it was, dancing barely ahead of Malfoy, and Harry dove for it as Malfoy reached out, and Harry nearly knocked him off his broom on his way to the Snitch, Malfoy's indignant exclamation lost in the wind as he shoved Harry right back and Harry hurtled down, losing altitude and trying frantically to stay on his broom.

"Bloody hell!" Harry sped up, trying to catch up to Malfoy, who put on a burst of speed, fast enough to overtake the Snitch, and nearly knocked himself off his own broom as he reached out to catch it before it fell behind him.

Malfoy's triumphant yell echoed through the air as his fingers closed around it. Harry pushed down his disappointment and curtly motioned to Malfoy to let it go again.

And they were off again, and the sky was incredibly vividly blue and the wind was fresh and clean and nothing existed in the world but two Seekers and a Snitch.

ooooooo

"God I wish I could still play," blurted Harry as they finally landed at the lookout point and climbed off, both of them exhausted, damp and breathless.

"Me too," Malfoy said quietly, looking out over the water.

"It's such an amazing feeling, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Harry sat down and looked over at Malfoy, noting that his mood, which had soared after he won their game, seemed to have settled considerably on the flight back to the lake.

"What's wrong?"

Malfoy shook his head and sat down beside Harry.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Just wish I could play again."

"Yeah."

There was a silence, finally broken by Malfoy. "I wish... I wish a lot of things were back to how they used to be."

Harry nodded, looking over the lake, the high of flying slowly fading away.

"We should have brought food," he realized.

"Next time," Malfoy said. "So, head back?"

"No thanks, I'll fall off. I'm exhausted," Harry lay back on his elbows, still gazing out at the lake.

"So what do we do?"

"What about the list?"

Malfoy started to object, then shrugged and nodded resignedly. "Yeah, all right. Do you remember any of them off the top of your head?"

"Er... one was Quidditch-"

"No thanks," Malfoy said curtly, and Harry sensed the subject was a little too raw for him right now.

"Er... I think we were supposed to talk about what we thought of marriage before the spell."

"Yeah, all right."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you ever think about marriage when you were growing up?"

"No, you go first," Malfoy said, leaning back on his elbows too.

Harry picked a small clover and nibbled on it, thinking. "I don't know. Not much, I don't think, to be honest. I didn't know if I'd even survive to adulthood. I still don't."

"You never thought about it?"

"I must have at some point, I suppose. I suppose I wanted what my parents had. Well, what I've been told they had. You know, what you made fun of, romantic Muggle notions. Somebody to love and trust. Somebody to have kids with. Be friends with."

"But you never saw any of that. You didn't know your parents."

"My aunt and uncle seemed to have a good marriage. They hated me, but they seemed happy with each other, god only knows why."

"They hated you? Why?"

"My aunt and uncle... never mind. That's a whole other topic. But they seemed to get on pretty well with each other. I suppose I wanted that too."

Malfoy nodded.

"What did you think about?"

Malfoy chewed on his lip for a moment, thinking. "Not much. I suppose... I wondered what her family would be like. What my family would achieve by allying ourselves with hers. What our children would be like. What they would get from their mother that they would bring to the Malfoy line."

"Smashingly romantic."

He shrugged. "It's just a political alliance; anything else is a fringe benefit."

"Do your parents not get along?"

Malfoy seemed puzzled by the question. "No, they get along well. They're a lot alike. It's a good marriage, I think..." he trailed off.

There was a long pause, as Harry watched Malfoy brood. "What?" he finally asked.

Malfoy started a little, as if he'd forgotten that Harry was there. "You know... what you wanted, you can still have. You'll be able to find somebody to love and all that rubbish, assuming you can find a girl daft enough to like you back." Harry noted that the requisite insult lacked the usual force, as though Malfoy were just going through the motions of hostility. "You've lost the right to call her your wife, but everything else, you can still have." He sat up and tossed a small stone into the lake. "I can't. I can't marry anybody else; I'm off the market. There won't be any alliances in my generation," he said bitterly.

"Is it really that important?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Obviously not to people like you or your parents, or the sodding Weasleys. But to old families in the wizarding world, yes, it's bloody important." He threw another stone into the lake, flinging it with far more force than the first.

Harry kept his mouth shut, not particularly wanting to get into an argument about their different views on marriage. "I'm sorry," he said simply.

Malfoy shrugged and tossed another stone.

"Doesn't it make any difference that this isn't a voluntary bond? I mean, wouldn't some family still want to, I don't know, make some other sort of 'alliance' with yours, even if it can't be called a marriage?"

"A bond is a bond, and you can only have one. No good family would let their daughter be attached to a man who can't even give her his name."

"That's not fair."

"No, it's not bloody well fair, but that's the way it is. It happened to the Verbindungs, very old German family, about twenty years ago; the heir was an idiot who ended up making a bond with a no-name Irish witch while he was out on a bender. He was eighteen. He sobered up and realized what he'd done, but she didn't want to dissolve the bond, so there he is, still effectively single. They don't live together, they've got nothing together, but as long as she's alive and refusing to dissolve it, he can't marry anybody else. You wouldn't believe how much standing the family's lost since then."

"That's too bad."

"Mind you, my father's somewhat brighter than Herr Verbindung, and at least what happened to me wasn't because of an embarrassing drinking incident. We'll probably be a little better off. Still. It's not good."

"I suppose not."

Malfoy stared at the lake, tossing stones in one after another, and Harry waited patiently while he worked out his frustration. Wondering, not for the first time, if he would ever fully understand the wizarding world. Even after seven years, he still kept smacking up against unexpected differences, blank spaces in his knowledge of wizarding ways and customs. All sorts of things that he would've known, had his parents been alive to raise him in this world.

A long time later, Malfoy finally seemed to have calmed himself down. "At least the heir part's still all right," he said resignedly, tossing one last stone into the lake. "Although I'm sure you'll be impossible while you're expecting," he muttered.

"Expecting what?"

"Children."

"What?"

"Well somebody has to have them, Potter," Malfoy said impatiently.

"What?" Harry repeated blankly.

"How else do you think heirs come about?"

"Doesn't that kind of thing usually require a woman?"

"Do you see a woman here? How else do you think male couples have children?"

Harry gaped at Malfoy.

"What?" Malfoy asked.

"Are you serious?" Harry sat up.

"Well how do Muggles do it?"

"They adopt, or get a woman to carry the - you're not serious?" Harry said, his emotions finally coming out of shock and making way for stunned disbelief.

"Don't Muggles have any male pregnancies?"

"No!"

"Rather sexist of them, isn't it?"

"Malfoy, you are joking, aren't you?"

"I can't believe you hadn't thought about this before. It would've been the first thing I would've thought of if I'd been the lower-status spouse, personally. After all, that's who carries the children if it's two men in the marriage-"

"What??"

"Goodness, Potter, you're turning the most alarming shade of green-" and then Harry finally had the presence of mind to reach out and try to sense Malfoy's feelings behind his voice and manner.

"You BASTARD!" he shouted in disbelief as Malfoy finally started to crack. "You absolute fucking WANKER!!"

Malfoy dissolved in laughter, unable to do more than bat away at Harry's wild swings at his head.

"I can't BELIEVE-"

"Can't believe - you fell for-" Malfoy managed to gasp between peals of laughter, "Honestly, Potter - your face, oh, what I wouldn't give for Creevey's camera-" Malfoy collapsed into helpless laughter again and Harry's glare started to turn into a sheepish smile, then into an outright laugh.

"Yeah, all right. All right, yeah, you got me," he said, putting his hands up. "Fine, yes, let's all mock the Muggle-raised twit here and I swear if you tell your Slytherin friends about this I'll make tentacles sprout from your nose."

Malfoy nodded, still red-faced and unable to speak.

Harry sat back, waiting for him to settle, reflecting on how rare it was to see Malfoy utterly let go of his composure. He wondered whether Malfoy had been born with shields in place, or whether his parents - most likely, his father - had had to work hard to put them there.

"Oh, god," Malfoy wiped his eyes. "I can't believe you actually fell for that," he shook his head, still chuckling.

"Well how was I supposed to know?"

"Honestly, Potter, men having babies?"

"If you'd told me seven years ago that people could actually fly on broomsticks or make themselves invisible or turn themselves into animals, I would've thought you were mental. What's male pregnancy compared to that?"

"But all of that's useful, you could see people wanting to do it. Male pregnancy? Who'd want that?"

"Who'd want to raise Blast-Ended Skrewts either, I'd like to know, and yet we both know how."

"Fair enough."

"So how does parenthood work, then? I assume you're still going to have an heir, right?"

Malfoy shrugged carelessly. "I'll probably have a child with some woman and name them my heir, but they'll be a bastard. A little bit of tarnish on them. And not from a terribly good family either."

"Why not?"

"No proper family would allow their daughter to have a child with a man who's not bonded to her."

"Would that matter?"

"What?"

"Would it make you love your child less, if they didn't have the right pedigree?"

"I don't know about loving them less, but I'd definitely value them less. And so would everybody else."

"You're joking."

"Don't ask questions if you don't want to hear the answer, Potter," Malfoy said evenly, and Harry decided it was probably a good idea to drop the topic.

They gazed out at the lake for a few more minutes, then Harry looked at his watch. "We should probably go back."

Malfoy started to nod, then looked at the school in the distance. Harry followed his gaze. Two large groups of students were coming out of the school, one heading towards Hagrid's place, one towards the Quidditch pitch.

"I don't particularly want to run into anybody right now, do you?" Malfoy asked.

"No." Harry lay back on his elbows, turning his face towards the sun and closing his eyes. "It's not bad out here," he commented. "Wish I'd brought something cooler to wear, though."

"Why?"

"Got overheated from the exercise, but the wind's too cool to just wear a t-shirt. Actually," he sat up and removed his jumper, "to hell with the wind." He wadded up his jumper and put it under his head, lying back down, and closing his eyes again. "Yeah, it's not that cold."

There was a long silence, then Harry felt a prickle of unease. He opened his eyes to find Malfoy staring very determinedly out at the lake, his face somewhat flushed.

"What?"

Malfoy tsk'd in annoyance, not bothering to look at Harry.

"What?" Harry sat up.

"Oh for god's sake, Potter, you are clueless," Malfoy said impatiently.

"Oh." Harry was suddenly aware of Malfoy's emotions, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment, wondering if putting his jumper back on would be sensible or silly.

"Don't bother," Malfoy snapped, turning away. "You're not that irresistible." He started to get up and Harry put out a hand to stop him before he realized he was doing it. "What??"

"We're supposed to be getting to know each other, right?" he said evenly. "We're supposed to be working on me not being frightened of your feelings," he hesitated. "Or my own."

Malfoy was just staring at him, and Harry took a deep breath and drew slightly closer, reminding himself that nothing bad had happened this morning. And that it had been rather pleasant, as a matter of fact. Rather overwhelming too, just like what had happened in Dumbledore's sitting room last night, but overall, pleasant.

He reached out to Malfoy's feelings, encountered arousal and - "Why are you nervous?"

"Not nervous," Malfoy said quickly. "Just... I, I don't know what you're going to do next." He shut his eyes as soon as he said it, embarrassment flooding through him. "I mean, no, that's not - I keep expecting you to panic or something."

"Have I panicked yet?"

"No, but-"

"Then don't expect me to," Harry said, a little amused at Malfoy's apprehension. Funny how Malfoy was irritable but in control as long as Harry was avoiding him, but let Harry make any advances and Malfoy became distinctly uneasy. Harry smiled and leaned closer, running a hand down Malfoy's arm and ending up brushing their fingers together. Malfoy caught his breath, meeting Harry's eyes.

"Er, Potter... this place isn't exactly private-"

But Harry had already decided that he didn't give a damn. He leaned in and kissed Malfoy, who made a startled noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak before responding and reaching up to cup Harry's cheek with one hand and pulling him closer with the other.

Oh, this was nothing to be afraid of at all, thought Harry as their kiss deepened and he started to fall into that state where there was nothing but their lips and hands caressing each other. In fact, doing this with Malfoy was a damn sight nicer than doing just about anything else with him. As long as they were doing this they didn't have to worry about anything else - families, personalities, school, anything. It all just disappeared in the rush of excitement and physical pleasure.

Oh yes, Harry thought as he pushed Malfoy onto his back, nuzzling his neck and smiling at the way Malfoy's hands tightened on his shoulders. Far from being the worst part of the bond, this was becoming by far the best. Malfoy had been right after all. Like and love didn't have to have anything to do with sex.

Harry sighed as Malfoy's hands became more urgent, drawing him closer, fingers tangling in his hair, firmly moving his face aside so that Malfoy could press a line of kisses down his neck and towards his ear and oh, how in hell had he lived without this kind of thing for so long...

"Potter," Malfoy murmured a few minutes later, as Harry hesitantly started to untuck Malfoy's jumper from his trousers, "Potter, wait," he whispered, grabbing at Harry's hands.

"What?" Harry asked impatiently.

"What are you doing?"

Harry blinked at him. "What?"

"What is this?"

"I believe it's called snogging," Harry said, rather annoyed. Malfoy rolled his eyes, and Harry reflected that the irritation on his face would've been rather off-putting if it hadn't been balanced out by his quick breathing, flushed features and reddened lips.

"I mean, why are we doing this here, now, where anybody can see us if they bother to look up? Why not back in our room?"

"I don't think anybody's going to look up here," he said, going back to Malfoy's neck. "And even if they do," he added between kisses, "they're too far away to be able to tell who we are-"

"Really?" Malfoy jolted a little as Harry's mouth reached a particularly sensitive spot, but he continued, albeit slightly breathlessly. "Even without magnifying spells, two male students groping - oh - er, groping at each other in the middle of the day when everybody else is in class - you don't think anybody would be able to figure out who we are?"

"Why does that matter?" Harry buried his face into Malfoy's hair, enjoying the feeling of Malfoy's hands sliding over his back, his shoulders.

"Why are we here, Potter? Why not in our rooms?"

Harry heaved a sigh and pushed himself up on his elbows, staring down at Malfoy. "Why?"

"Because I'd be far more comfortable there. I don't particularly want Colin Creevey's bloody camera clicking away at us."

Harry blew out his breath, frustrated. "Colin Creevey is nowhere around. But if you're that nervous, why don't we move over there," he nodded at a slight rise in the ground, "Out of sight of the castle."

"Why don't we move over there," Malfoy nodded towards the castle, "Where I won't have a bloody great root stabbing me in the back every time you - oh, er," he trailed off distractedly as Harry started to nibble on his ear. "No, hang on, stop," he pulled away determinedly, clearing his throat. "Potter, this is uncomfortable."

"Right, then," Harry grabbed his shoulders and rolled onto his back, bringing Malfoy with him and grinning at his startled squawk. "Better?" He stared up at Malfoy, suddenly disoriented and a little taken aback - with Malfoy looming over him, and him helpless on his back and half-pinned down by Malfoy's upper body, this wasn't quite the same. Malfoy drew back, a curious expression on his face.

"What is it?"

Harry shook his head, trying to banish his unease. "Nothing," he drew Malfoy back down to him, and Malfoy responded willingly enough for a few heated kisses but then drew away, bracing himself on his elbows.

"Potter. Stop. You're not enjoying this. You're getting bloody tense, as a matter of fact. And you still haven't answered why we have to do this here instead of-" Malfoy broke off, his head tilted to the side curiously. "Wait, why is it that every time I mention our room, you seize up?"

Harry stared up at him, debating trying to keep distracting him. Finally gave in, motioned Malfoy to move aside, and sat up.

"I don't know."

Malfoy sat up too, wiping his mouth and running a hand through his hair, pulling out a leaf that had become entangled there. Harry wrapped his arms around his knees, putting his head down and wishing there were fewer feelings to sort out, because the by-now familiar combination of arousal, impatience, frustration, fear, and embarrassment was getting rather tiresome.

"Potter?"

"I don't know, all right??" Harry snapped, his eyes closed.

Malfoy made an annoyed sound and Harry felt him sit back, then there was a long silence before he felt Malfoy's hand on his arm, his touch tentative. Harry felt the familiar soothing sensation, clearing away the worst of his negative emotions and replacing them with a slightly clearer, calmer perspective.

"If we're in our room, there's nothing to stop us from going too far," Harry finally said.

"What?"

"I, I don't, I mean, this is good, but-" Harry's words stumbled to a stop, and he shook his head helplessly, not knowing how on earth to express something that wasn't clear in his own mind, even now that he was calmer.

"You don't want to go any farther than we did this morning?" Malfoy said slowly.

"No."

"Then why not just bloody well say so?"

Harry's shoulders hunched miserably. "I don't know, all right? I can't... I don't..."

Malfoy covered his eyes with his hand, taking a few deeps breaths, and Harry could clearly sense that Malfoy was exercising all the restraint he had to not shout at him in frustration.

Finally Malfoy looked up and fixed Harry with a level gaze. "Potter. Far be it from me to pressure you in any way," he began in an eminently reasonable tone of voice, "but I'd like to suggest that if you can manage sort yourself out to some minimal degree, things just might go a little more smoothly between us." He stood up and Harry tried to figure out just who Malfoy's carefully polite tone reminded him of. "Just a suggestion, mind you. Now, if it's all right with you, perhaps we can use our time wisely right now by moving away from each other and practicing those non-verbal spells for our Charms test next week. Because I certainly don't want to cause you any distress by forcing you to deal with issues that most people have worked out by the time they are twelve or thirteen."

Harry shivered a little as he finally identified who Malfoy sounded like: Lucius Malfoy, at his most freezingly polite and contemptuous. He wondered if Malfoy was consciously choosing to imitate his father or if it just came naturally. Decided he didn't want to know, because he didn't know which idea bothered him more.

He sighed as he watched Malfoy walk away and start gathering a set of materials for his Charms practice, uncomfortably aware that of the two of them, Malfoy was being far more reasonable and adult about this situation than he was. And it was probably way past time for Harry to 'figure himself out' and let Malfoy - and himself - in on just what was going on in his head. Because what he was doing right now was not fair to either one of them.

He sighed again. Self-examination. Not something he was terribly fond of. Maybe he could just think about it later.

In the meantime, he could, as Malfoy had suggested, use this time wisely to practice for their Charms test. Conveniently enough, it consisted of three sets of thirteen charms to be performed on various outdoor objects: plants, rocks, soil, insects, and, if they could manage it, a few small animals.

All right. He started scanning for objects for his first set. Four rocks, four plants, four insects, one blank spot waiting for some unlucky small bird or rodent to happen by.

Unbidden, Harry's mind wandered back to Dumbledore's office the previous night, and he firmly tried to bring it back to the task at hand before realizing that the preparation of practice sets didn't really require his full concentration. Maybe he could see what thoughts percolated on their own.

He'd been so scared last night, he thought as he carefully organized the four rocks at a safe distance from each other. So stubbornly resistant to the idea of getting close to Malfoy, so resentful of the fact that he'd have to eventually, whether he chose to do so or was forced to by some potion or spell. And then somehow, suddenly, his fear and resistance and resentment had been pushed aside by the moment, by the excitement of being near Malfoy and doing what he'd been longing to do for so long. In fact, at a certain point in time he remembered vaguely wondering what it was he'd been avoiding for so long. And maybe now was a good time to wonder about it again.

So, what was he afraid of? Why he didn't want to go farther? What exactly was the problem?

Well, he thought as he finished his first practice set and started on the second, at the beginning of their bond he'd been extremely nervous about Malfoy pushing him into doing something he didn't want to do. Malfoy was a bully. They hated each other. Malfoy had a casual attitude towards sex and a bitter but resigned acceptance of their bond as a marriage. For the first little while he'd been terrified of Malfoy just taking what the bond promised, with or without Harry's real consent, just because he could.

But that hadn't happened, at all. At no point since their bonding had Malfoy done anything to Harry that Harry hadn't wanted. Take the three times they'd been physically involved: yesterday, this morning, and a few minutes ago. All initiated by Harry. Because contrary to everything he ever thought he knew about Malfoy, Malfoy had made a promise and kept it and had not pressured him, even once. Whether it was the product of the patience potion, the bond's ability to make Malfoy feel whatever Harry was feeling, or just a side of Malfoy that Harry had simply never seen before, Harry had been perfectly safe from any pressure the whole time.

In fact, he realized as the finished the second set, he wasn't really afraid of that any more.

He started the third set.

Performance anxiety had definitely been a problem since the beginning too, he realized. He'd felt nervous as hell doing anything with Malfoy, with his open contempt for Harry's inexperience and his long and glorious history of making fun of everything Harry did. He'd been sure that Malfoy would be perfectly blasé about anything they did, and laugh at Harry the whole time, making him feel stupid and childish.

And again, he'd been wrong. Malfoy, for all his previous experience, had turned out to be hesitant, almost shy, whenever they did anything remotely intimate. And last night and this morning, Harry had been able to sense through their bond how Malfoy was bloody well almost out of his mind with excitement and overstimulated libido. Whether that came from Harry's skill or the bond's magic didn't matter; Malfoy was not blasé and was not complaining, even in his mind, about Harry's inexperience. In fact, Malfoy seemed a little shocked at how completely his own reactions had overwhelmed him.

And then, what Malfoy had done to him, how he'd kissed him and touched him in ways that nearly drove Harry crazy, how much Harry had wanted more, closer, harder... it hadn't been casual for either of them. It had been incredibly good, and he should probably remember that.

Oh dear. Harry cleared his throat and tried to also clear away the rather badly-timed arousal that that particular recollection had provoked.

Mind on the job, he told himself firmly. He had all the objects for the third set, but he needed to organize them.

So, if the fear of pressure and the performance anxiety weren't really issues any more; what else was there?

There was of course the small problem of the fact that this wasn't how he'd wanted to lose his virginity. After all, a person's first time was supposed to be pleasant, with somebody who cared about them.

Although... come to think of it, that might not have been a problem if he'd been with anybody but Malfoy. It wasn't as though Harry had always hoped to lose his virginity to the love of his life. His fantasies ran the same wide gamut as most teenage boys'. In some fantasies, he was in love with the girl, and she with him. In others, they had just met - what Seamus' Wicked Witch magazines called the "beautiful stranger at Flourish and Blotts" fantasies. In others, she was a friend or acquaintance - say, Parvati Patil, or Susan Bones - who somehow, through some unexplored miracle, would up being more.

It was time to face reality. He wasn't going to get any of the romantic fantasies, no matter what. He wasn't going to get the Flourish and Blotts fantasies either. As for the friend becoming a lover... well, replace the word 'friend' with 'nemesis', and that's what was going to happen, so he might as well accept it and make the best of it and not try to pretend that he'd had his heart set on something different all along.

Harry stared blankly at his three sets of practice objects.

As for the slight problem of Malfoy being a boy... he'd read the little book Pomfrey had given them in the first few days after their bond, blanching in disgust at the more graphic material. Certain that he'd never actually want to do any of what was described there. Now... he was starting to see the attraction. But what if he got carried away and consented, then got hurt?

And the other way around, if Malfoy by some miracle consented to let Harry - what if he hurt Malfoy? Setting aside how awful he'd feel, how was he supposed to trust that Malfoy wouldn't viciously hex him in retaliation?

He took a deep breath, making himself check his three sets and think about the charms he was supposed to perform. Not that he could concentrate on actually doing them right now.

They would just have to work things out. The book had had several suggestions on what to do to make things easier and Harry supposed he should probably take a look at them again, and this time, actually read them with a mind towards using them and not just dismissing them in disgust.

Which left his last objection, he thought as he looked over at Malfoy. What he'd said to Ron, that he was afraid to get attached. Which was more valid now than ever. The fact that they'd gone from outright hatred to grudging acceptance to... Harry didn't even have a word for what he felt for Malfoy right now, but it was so far from hatred it made him very nervous. Wouldn't it be a thousand times worse after they'd actually had sex?

There was no help for that. The only thing he could do about that particular worry was to firmly, completely, and utterly, ignore it. Exist in a bubble where they both pretended Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy and all that they represented simply did not exist. Because as Ron had said, there was no point in worrying about it right now.

The only thing he needed to concentrate on was not letting his own insecurities and fears derail any "progress" in their bloody bond. Esposito was right; this was serious, and he had no right to act like an immature child and cause himself and Malfoy more grief than they needed.

Harry cleared his throat, and Malfoy glanced up from his third set, which he was busily charming.

"Charms going all right?" Harry asked.

"I'm finishing up the third set," Malfoy said distractedly, repeating a charm that had not quite worked and nodding in satisfaction as the small stone he was pointing at turned from a bilious neon yellow to a soft glowing green. He looked up. "Did you sort yourself out?"

Harry took a deep breath. "A bit, yeah."

"And?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I don't want to go back to our room. I'm all right with what we've done so far, but if we're there I'll want us to go farther and I don't think I'm ready for that. And... I've thought about why that is. And I'll try to deal with it. And..." he cleared his throat again, bracing himself for the worst part. "And I'm sorry."

Malfoy's eyebrows went up slightly, but he merely nodded. "Right, then. Apology accepted."

"So. Why don't we just stay here for a while? I need to do my practice charms anyway."

"It's almost lunch time."

Harry was on the verge of suggesting going to the Great Hall for lunch, then thought better of it. They hadn't been told to seclude themselves completely, but he couldn't deny that being around anybody, friend or foe, with Malfoy, was stressful. "Why don't we go get something from the elves and come back here?"

"A picnic?" Malfoy asked, amused. "How quaint."

Harry shrugged. "It's a nice day. May as well bring some books and the list too."

"Yeah, all right."

ooooooo

"I can't believe you like tuna sandwiches," Harry said as they settled back at the lookout point for lunch.

"Why not?"

"It's Muggle food."

"Bite your tongue."

"No, we learned that in Muggle Studies, in the section on blending in. It includes a list of food of ours that's commonly eaten by Muggles, so that we can order things and not look strange. There's a list of things not to ask for - pumpkin juice, that kind of thing. And a list of our foods that originally came from Muggles."

Malfoy peered at his sandwich as though it offended him.

"Mind you, I don't think Muggles include salamander tongue sauce in the recipe."

Malfoy took another bite. "Why would you take Muggle Studies, anyway?"

"Easy course. Besides, I really don't know all that much about normal Muggle life."

"You were raised by Muggles."

"I'd like to believe the Muggles who raised me weren't normal."

"Why not?"

"Because if they are, maybe your father has a point about Muggles after all."

Malfoy snickered. "Sounds lovely. So, are we doing item number..." he leaned forward to skim through the list, "17, then? 'Describe your childhood'?"

"Oh," Harry skimmed the list too. "Yeah, may as well. You pick the next item."

"Yeah, all right." Malfoy finished his sandwich, brushed off stray crumbs, and lay back with his hands behind his head, gazing up at the sky. "Go ahead. Let's hear about your charming Muggle relations."

"They're not charming," Harry said, lying down next to Malfoy. "They're bloody evil. The best thing about being in seventh year is knowing that I never have to live with them again."

"If they're at all responsible for your out-of-class wardrobe, I can certainly understand why."

"Yeah, almost everything I wear is second hand from my cousin Dudley."

"Second hand? Your clothing was used by somebody else first?" Malfoy's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Wait - your clothing is enormous. Your cousin outgrew it?" he asked disbelievingly.

"He's about the size of a small dragon. Squashier, though, and far less pleasant." Harry stared up at the clouds in deep thought for a few minutes.

"Potter?" Malfoy finally prompted him.

"I'm not sure number 17 is a good idea," he said slowly, and Malfoy turned to look at him. "Because you realize that telling me about your childhood will mean telling me all about how wonderful your father is." He turned to look at Malfoy and noted a curious expression flit across his face before Malfoy schooled his features into inscrutability.

"Yeah."

"We should probably avoid a lot of subjects," Harry added.

"Yeah."

"Here, let's take a look at the list again." They both flipped onto their stomachs with the list in front of them as they read through it together.

"I'd say 'talk about your parents' is pretty much out," Malfoy said grimly, and touched his wand to the paper. A line appeared across the words.

"We've already done 'favourite school subjects'," Harry touched his own wand to it.

"'Call each other by your first names'," Malfoy read, and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Harry. Your turn."

"Right. Draco. That was easy," Harry crossed out that item. "Talk about your future after school - erm," Harry crossed it out without commentary, reflecting that it was incredibly bizarre to be doing this. Putting up clear limits on what they could and couldn't talk about, without even going into why they couldn't talk about it.

It was so strange. Here they were, supposedly getting to know each other in order to 'build intimacy,' while studiously ignoring some of the most important facets of each other's personalities and lives.

Move along, nothing to see here.

"You realize what's left doesn't involve a lot of talking," Malfoy noted when they were done crossing out items deemed too risky.

"There's 'hobbies' and 'describe your friends' and 'favourite foods'."

"And thirteen other things, none of which involve saying much," Malfoy paused. "Unless you count 'yes' or 'more' or 'harder.'"

Harry found himself laughing and only blushing very slightly. "All right, pick something."

"Hang on," Malfoy muttered a quick spell at the parchment.

Harry frowned. "What was that?"

"Spell that picks out items on a list at random. Very useful for when you're studying and dithering about which topic to study next. It decides for you," they watched as the ink turned green on one of the items. "Number 11. Ugh," Malfoy said immediately. "'Learn your partner's facial features without using your eyes, either through touch or magic or both.' Why didn't we cross this one off for sheer ridiculousness?"

"There's got to be some reason for it. Esposito's been doing this for a while."

"Yeah, and her track record with us so far has been splendid. We landed in the hospital two weeks in and almost killed each other nine days later."

"We weren't exactly following her advice, though. Besides, I thought we'd decided to give her ideas a try."

Malfoy rolled his eyes but sat up. "Fine. I'll go first." He closed his eyes, muttering "Although what this is supposed to prove is beyond me; sounds like another brilliant Muggle idea to me."

Harry sat up, taking Malfoy's hand and bringing it to his face. Malfoy's fingers touched Harry's glasses and tugged on them lightly. Harry took them off and Malfoy gently started to trace his eyebrows, his eyelids, his forehead.

Oh. Harry drew in his breath sharply. He had no idea what this was supposed to prove or accomplish in terms of building trust or a relationship or anything like that, but in terms of tweaking Harry's libido, it was working admirably. Malfoy's sharp, mocking gaze was hidden, his lips slightly pursed in concentration, his brow slightly furrowed, and his fingertips tracing Harry's features so very lightly, so delicately. Carefully stroking one cheek, running along the length of his jaw, thumb gently caressing his lips, index tracing the bridge of his nose, one hand slowly sliding towards his ear, tracing the outside - and Harry realized he was harder than he would've ever thought possible from a completely innocent touch.

Malfoy opened his eyes, half-smiling at Harry as Harry stared back at him, his mind perfectly blank and body perfectly aroused.

"Well well," Malfoy drawled. "Maybe not such a stupid idea after all?"

Harry shook his head, his mouth dry. Malfoy slowly took Harry's hand and brought it up to his own face, then reached out and closed Harry's eyelids gently. Harry bit his lip and started feeling Malfoy's features. Tracing the sharp nose, soft tendrils of hair brushing his forehead, very slight stubble along his jaw, lips that felt a lot softer than they looked and warmed Harry's fingertips with small quick breaths...

"Mmm..." Malfoy made a small sound and shifted a little and Harry bit his lip harder. "That feels... very nice."

"Erm... I don't think this is supposed to-"

"Well, it does," Malfoy replied unsteadily. Harry's fingers were still resting against his lips, and his pulse rose sharply as Malfoy leaned closer, gently lowering Harry's fingers and pressing his lips to Harry's.

This was probably a bad idea, somehow, thought Harry, because whatever they were supposed to learn from this exercise was probably not supposed to be 'how to segue into more snogging'. They were probably supposed to learn about trust, or appreciating each other's less visible qualities, or something like that.

Then again, what was going on right now was doing that admirably too, Harry thought as he parted his lips for Malfoy, keeping his eyes closed and feeling perfectly safe doing so. Knowing that, contrary to all expectations, Malfoy would be attentive and responsive and make Harry feel so incredibly good it would be impossible to remember that it was all based on a spell. It was hard to think, as somebody shivered under your touch and seemed to go out of his way to make you shiver too, that there was nothing there but hormones and a curse.

Harry moaned as Malfoy pressed a line of kisses along his neck, one hand cradling his cheek and the other rubbing small circles onto his back. He reached up to Malfoy's face and carefully touched his eyelids, and Malfoy smiled into his neck and obligingly closed them, and they concentrated on learning each other's bodies with touch alone.

Damn. He should've given in to this from the very beginning. What in god's name had he been thinking?

ooooooo

"It's getting late," Harry murmured into Malfoy's hair a few hours later, wondering a little at the perfectly relaxed, content tone of his voice. Malfoy stirred slightly, yawned and lifted his head from Harry's shoulder, propping himself up on his elbow.

"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Harry checked his watch. "Almost six."

"Dinner time." Malfoy's brow furrowed. "Wait - we've been here six hours?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't seem that long."

"We were busy," Harry pointed out, chuckling.

"Mm, yeah," Malfoy smiled, then sat up and stretched, rubbing the side of his neck. "I think I fell asleep for a bit, too."

Harry sat up too, nodding. They had been busy. While they'd eventually stopped kissing after the face-touching exercise and dutifully made themselves pick out three more items from The List, they'd come back to physical intimacy each time, for the flimsiest of reasons. "Describe your favourite foods" had become "allow the sensual descriptions of said foods to turn into more snogging." "Practice casting simple transfiguration spells together" had become "transform a flower into a wind chime, a tree into a coat, jokingly transform a patch of grass into a blanket, then end up snogging on said blanket."

"Study together," had not provided a segue so much as an excuse; rather frustrated from three heated makeout sessions that had ended without satisfactory conclusion, they'd become bored after half an hour of reading and ended up snogging again. The last time, they hadn't bothered to restrain themselves, beyond making sure they were out of direct line of sight of the school and that their clothing remained more or less on. They'd both come fairly quickly, and dropped into satiated somnolence even faster.

"Do you want to go to the Great Hall for dinner?" Harry asked.

"Not really."

"Kitchens again?"

"Yeah. Oh - actually, no," Malfoy said.

"Then where?"

"Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?" Harry frowned. "It's not a Hogsmeade weekend."

"We're not in school right now, are we?"

"But-"

"Three Broomsticks?"

"I - I don't know-"

"We'll check in with Pomfrey, then fly down," Malfoy said, rather persuasively.

"But-"

"But what?"

"We've - I mean, we've not gone anywhere in public, what if people-"

"Stare?" Malfoy scoffed. "It's Hogsmeade. They're used to students and used to being discreet with the press. No other students will be there. I'd much rather go there than just about anywhere else that's public."

Harry smiled despite himself. Hogsmeade at night, during the week. That should be interesting.

It was almost like... almost like a date.