Bond

Chapter 12

November 6 - November 23

Day 39, Friday

Somebody was moving. Hermione raised her heavy head, blearily looking towards the bed.

Harry sighed in his sleep, turned onto his side, and was still again, his brow furrowing slightly for a moment before smoothing out. Beside him, Malfoy stirred but remained asleep as well.

Hermione lay her head back on her chair, grateful that unlike Muggle bedside vigils, wizard vigils were made a little easier by the simple expedience of being able to transfigure the seats into whatever you needed to remain comfortable - or to sleep, in Ron and Narcissa Malfoy's cases.

Only Hermione and Lucius remained awake - Hermione because she was still frazzled by the events of the last few days and the aftermath of the healing spell, and Lucius for unknown reasons of his own. They didn't need to be awake. They didn't even need to be here. Esposito was keeping watch over Harry and Malfoy and she would be sure to get them when either of them woke up.

It was a question of when, and not if, Hermione repeated to herself. Still not quite able to believe it. She probably wouldn't until she saw them both up and back to themselves.

Malfoy stirred, turned onto his side and put his arm over Harry, tucking himself around Harry as Harry murmured something and settled into his embrace.

The members of the circle had remained in the large Astronomy Tower room for some time after the spell-casting, recovering and conversing in low voices while Esposito and the other Healers hovered over Harry and Malfoy. At one point Esposito had looked up and motioned to Hermione to move closer. Started to point something out to her, then stopped herself and called Narcissa over as well.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm showing Miss Granger this because she has expressed an interest and an affinity for Healing, but you should also see it. These are lines of power here, here, and here." She pointed to faint glowing lines that the Healers had created on Harry and Malfoy's bodies, near centres of magic: hands, heart, temples. "Miss Granger, you may remember they were looking dull and sluggish, showing a dampening down of their Life magic. They are now running relatively bright and clear."

Narcissa had stared at the glowing lines. "Does... does that mean it worked?"

"We believe so, yes."

"When will they wake up?"

"They'll need to sleep for a while. But this a natural sleep, resting them instead of draining them. They should be awake in a few hours."

Even though Esposito had only been speaking to the two of them, their relief had spread instantly through the room. Narcissa stared at her son for a long time before turning and very calmly walking back to Lucius, who led her into the small office adjoining the room. The others talked quietly amongst themselves, exchanging a few hugs and smiles. The Malfoys returned about ten minutes later, and although both looked quite composed, Narcissa's slightly reddened eyes and roughened voice indicated that she'd probably had a bit of a breakdown in private. She and Lucius formally thanked all the members of the circle for having taken part in it, reserving their warmest thanks for Snape, Zabini and Parkinson, and one by one the others took their leave until only Hermione, Ron, and the Malfoys remained. They'd fallen into an uneasy silent truce, taking their seats on opposite sides of the bed and settling in for the night.

Hermione glanced up as there was another movement from the bed. Harry, turning onto his back. She held her breath as his eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling.

"Malfoy?" he whispered.

Malfoy's eyes blinked open and he made a low sound in his throat. Harry turned to him and their eyes met for a long moment, then Malfoy slowly lifted his hand and brushed Harry's hair back from his face.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked quietly.

"All right. You?"

"Yeah." Harry's hand came up to clasp Malfoy's, then he turned so they were facing each other. Hermione realized that she and Lucius were seeing what they'd waited all night to see and should have been getting up to talk to them, but were instead both remaining silent. She didn't want to interrupt Harry and Malfoy. And apparently, neither did Lucius. Their eyes met briefly before Lucius turned his attention back to them, an expression she couldn't decipher on his features.

Harry and Malfoy were focussed only on one another, Malfoy's eyes searching Harry's for something that he apparently found, because he let out his breath and pulled Harry close to him, burying his face in Harry's hair. Harry's hand cupped Malfoy's cheek, his thumb slowly caressing his jaw.

"We're all right," Harry murmured after a moment, and Malfoy nodded.

"I know. It's just-"

"Yeah. I know." Harry cleared his throat, pulled back slightly. "Where are my glasses?"

"Accio glasses," Malfoy murmured, chuckling, caught them and handed them to Harry.

"How are you feeling, gentlemen?" Esposito asked, and Hermione jumped. She hadn't realized Esposito was right next to her.

Harry and Malfoy let go of one another reluctantly and turned towards her. Not startled; merely as though they'd known they weren't alone, but just hadn't bothered to look for anybody else.

"All right," said Malfoy.

"Hungry," said Harry, and Esposito chuckled.

"Sit up then, let's have a look at you. Are you also hungry, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, and Malfoy nodded, slowly sitting up. "Excellent. You should be. You've had nothing to eat since Wednesday, and precious little before then, I'll wager."

Lucius stood up, clearing his throat. "You're looking better," he said quietly, as Malfoy turned to him. "Your mother will be pleased." He leaned down and touched Narcissa's shoulder. "He's awake."

Narcissa awoke with a start and stared at Malfoy, a little stunned.

"Hello Mother." He gave her a small smile, then turned his attention back to Esposito. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked if you're feeling any pain, nausea, headache-" and she rattled off a list of symptoms as she waved her wand over both of them. "Sorry," she said briskly over her shoulder to Hermione and the Malfoys, "I'll just get through their exam as quickly as possible, then leave you to yourselves. Miss Granger, why don't you wake up Mr. Weasley. Yes, yes, I'm sure this is just a formality, you both look perfectly healthy, I'd just like to cover all the bases and then we'll get you some breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Harry asked, a little disoriented, looking for the windows and seeming to notice for the first time that he wasn't in the hospital wing.

"Close enough to it. It's five in the morning."

"What day?" Malfoy asked.

"Friday." Esposito chuckled slightly at the surprise on both faces. "Yes, you gave us all quite a scare," Esposito said dryly. "How much do you remember?"

Malfoy shrugged. "A fair bit, I think," he said. Harry nodded.

"Such as?"

"Memories," Harry said.

"A lot of memories," Malfoy added quietly.

Esposito gave them a measuring look, then nodded and cleared her throat. "Well. I think your parents and your friends would like to reassure themselves that you're all right for a bit, and then they'll go and have a proper rest so that we can go over the rest of your medical exams. Right?"

And as she woke up Ron and they spent a few minutes with Harry before being shooed out of the room by Esposito, Hermione thought that they seemed... different. Like the two of them were on one side of a huge divide that the rest of them couldn't quite bridge. She wondered if Ron felt it - and if Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy felt it too.

ooooooo

Day 40, Saturday

It's going to be nice to get the hell out of the hospital again, thought Draco as his mother began yet another long and involved tale about a recent society party. Not that he was normally averse to the topic; it was part of politics, after all. But his mother did tend to focus on the trivial; the one-upmanship of fashion and who had the most elaborate decoration charms, the most obedient and accomplished house elves, and other things of rather limited importance.

Unfortunately, right now, being confined to the hospital wing, there wasn't really much he could do to get her to stop talking. Couldn't make an excuse like having to go to class or Quidditch practice, and he was still too unsettled by the healing circle and its aftermath to be able to steer the conversation at all. His mother had been here for a few hours and looked good to stay through dinner, with her long party stories. What fun.

Mother wasn't normally this obsessed with trivialities, he thought as she prattled on. Part of her superficiality today was probably due to her own unease after the healing circle, and part to the presence of Potter and his friends over by the window, but it was still incredibly irritating. Fashion was not what he wanted her to talk about. He'd gathered that their family's status had changed irrevocably with his father's entry into the circle, but he didn't know where they stood now - whether Father would still try to remain allied to Voldemort, or actively curry favour with the other side, or just lie low until he figured out where to go next. It was incredibly annoying to hear about the cut of Mrs. Crabbe's new robes from Madam Malkin's, instead of what he really wanted to know.

His mother paused as Potter came closer.

"Excuse me. Malfoy? You said you wanted to watch the Slytherin Quidditch practice? They're starting." He nodded towards the window.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," Draco said unenthusiastically. Quidditch. A welcome break from the stories, but not something he particularly wanted to see.

His mother pursed her lips and frowned at Potter slightly as Draco stood up. "Mr. Potter, is it customary to address a spouse by his or her last name in the Muggle world?"

Potter blinked, a little startled as Mother spoke to him for what Draco realized was the first time. "Er - no."

"Then why do you address my son in that manner?" she asked, rather frostily.

Draco frowned. "We both do, Mother."

"It might be somewhat more appropriate for you to call one another by your first names, Draco."

"Appropriate for what?" Potter asked, and Draco shook his head at him, indicating that he should just drop the subject. His mother merely pursed her lips again and moved towards the door.

"You're leaving?"

"I have no particular fondness for Quidditch, you know that, Draco," she said. "Please, enjoy yourselves. I shall visit Severus."

"What was that about?" Potter asked as Draco joined him and Ron and Ginny Weasley at the window.

"Not sure. Although... I think my mother may have just told me part of what I wanted to know," Draco said absently as they watched Edmund Carmichael, the sixth-year who'd taken over the Slytherin captaincy, start his players on the warm-up drills. He tried to focus on the team at the pitch, and not on how uneasy he still felt in Ron Weasley's presence after the spell.

Ugh, hopeless. All three Chasers were executing particularly sloppy rolls, and Carmichael was doing nothing to correct them.

"They're not doing well without you," Potter remarked. "And what d'you mean, what you wanted to know?"

Draco shook his head at him, flicking his eyes at the Weasleys. Potter nodded, getting the message. "I was getting them trained just fine before the bond," Draco said. "But Carmichael doesn't understand how to handle the Chasers, and Baddock is a disaster as a Seeker."

"Yeah, last week wasn't the best game I've ever seen," Weasley's sister said.

Draco winced. Much as he disliked Malcolm Baddock, Slytherin losing 10-190 to Hufflepuff last week was mortifying. He'd wanted them to miss him as Seeker and Captain, not fall apart completely. Good thing he'd been too ill to attend - or even notice or care - at the time.

"You didn't damage him permanently, did you?" he asked Potter.

"Who, Baddock?" Potter grinned. "No. I doubt it would've made any difference, though."

"Damage him?" Weasley asked.

"Potter hexed him two days before the match."

"How?"

Potter shrugged. "Nothing permanent." The Weasleys waited. "Screaming Scrotalpox," he finally admitted, a little sheepish.

"Harry!" Ginny Weasley said admiringly and her brother laughed. "Why?"

"Long story," Potter said, shaking his head.

"Where was this?"

"Slytherin common room."

"And they didn't kill you?" Weasley's eyebrows shot up.

"Bulstrode gave him a butterbeer." Draco smiled at Potter, who grinned back.

"She did, yeah."

"I think Owsley wanted to kiss you. She's hated Baddock ever since he ditched her for a Ravenclaw."

Potter laughed and looked back out at the pitch, leaning back against Draco comfortably.

"Oh, for the - look at him, he's not even watching the Beaters for - please tell me you're doing better than him," Potter said to Weasley, who had taken over as Gryffindor Captain.

"I hope so," he said. "And you know Ginny's a good Seeker. But Dean's having trouble with the new Chaser. We miss you."

"Hopefully not as much as they miss Malfoy." Potter indicated the Slytherin team, which was fumbling its way through a Porskoff Ploy.

"I can't watch this," Draco said in disbelief as Baddock almost fell off his broom, "and yet I can't look away either."

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Weasley said happily.

"When d'you think you two will be able to play again?" Ginny Weasley asked, and Draco and Potter both looked at her, startled.

"Play?"

"Well the bond will wear down eventually. When do you suppose you'll be able to be in the air on your own again?"

"Oh. I don't know..." said Potter.

"As soon as you can, we want you back," Weasley told Potter. "I'm loads better than Carmichael, but I'm no Captain, and Ginny wants to get back to Chasing."

"You'd just hand over the captaincy?" Draco asked him.

"Harry was picked for it, not me."

"Why, won't you go back to your team?" Ginny asked.

Draco frowned. "No. Maybe. I don't know. It depends."

"On what?" Weasley asked.

"On whether they let me back in or not," he said curtly.

"But-"

"Ron." Potter's voice held a gentle admonition to back off, and Draco was grateful that Potter seemed to understand enough to not make him spell it out.

Yes, he wanted to play again. He'd thought about it often before their bond had started slowly killing them. But now... it would depend on the good will of the Captain and the rest of the team, and to get that good will, he'd need to have power to put pressure on them. And who knew if he had any right now.

"You were the bloody team Captain, for Merlin's sake; why wouldn't they let you play again?" Weasley asked, clearly not hearing Potter's unspoken request to tread carefully.

"It's not that simple," he said impatiently. Weasleys. Thick as mud, all of them. He'd best clarify his family's current political position as soon as possible, he thought irritably, because he refused to go to the trouble of trying to get along with Weasleys unless it was absolutely unavoidable.

"Well, you'll be coming back, Harry," Weasley said staunchly, contempt for Slytherins clear in his voice. "We decide things on talent and on what's fair." Draco rolled his eyes.

"You'll be able to do all sorts of things after the bond settles, you know," Ginny said. "You might even be able to go to your Astronomy classes more than every other day."

"D'you think you'll still get to keep your private quarters after you don't need them any more?" Weasley asked.

Draco was a bit taken aback, as was Potter. He hadn't thought of that. "I'm not giving that up without a fight," Draco said. "It's one of the only perks of this damn thing."

"Hey!"

"I didn't say it was the only perk," he said defensively, before realizing that Potter wasn't offended and was in fact amused at his mild embarrassment.

A sentiment apparently not shared by Ginny Weasley, who frowned at him slightly and casually commented, "You'll be able to date other people too, Harry, I'm sure that'll be a relief."

Draco's eyebrows went up and he sensed Potter's mild annoyance at Ginny. He put a hand on Potter's arm. "Oh, yeah," he spoke around Potter to Ginny. "That's another reason to keep the private quarters. We're planning on being disgracefully unfaithful as soon as possible. We're going to have a competition to see who can sleep with more people within a month of being able to. Potter'll need all the help he can get, though, so I do hope you'll be a friend and pitch in." Potter choked back a laugh at Ginny's expression, but he elbowed Draco lightly.

"Malfoy," he murmured warningly. "Play nice."

"Actually," Weasley said, to Draco's relief, "we'd better go. We have practice next. We'll see you later, Harry."

"Yeah, see you later," Potter said as they left the hospital.

"All right, what was that thing with your mother, then?" he asked after they were gone.

"Not sure. I think, though, that... that things have changed. With my family," he clarified, still watching Carmichael.

"Changed how?"

"I'm not sure. She wouldn't say much, but..." he trailed off, frowning at the players.

"I'm not getting the subtle Slytherinness of this, Malfoy," Potter prodded him after a moment.

"I'm sure it's occurred even to you that what with my parents coming into the circle, things have changed."

"I'm sure."

"Well, they... they have to figure out where to go from here."

There was a long silence, finally broken by Potter. "I can't imagine Voldemort's terribly happy with your father."

Draco's stomach gave a small lurch. "I'd rather you not use his name, if you don't mind," he said to cover his discomfort at Potter's sudden bluntness.

"That is what you're talking about, isn't it?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Yes."

There was a long silence. Not surprising, as it had taken over a month to even get to this much honesty between them.

"And I don't know what that means," Draco finally admitted. "I don't know if it means he's... out, or what."

"What do you want it to mean?"

"What should that matter?" Draco asked, honestly puzzled.

"Your wishes don't have anything to do with your family's political position? You're one third of it!"

Draco looked away from Potter's indignant expression. "I'd rather not discuss my wishes with you."

"Why not?"

'You won't like what I have to say."

"I see." Potter's voice was very quiet as he stepped away from Draco and turned to look out the window again.

Draco crossed his arms defensively, unexpectedly upset at the abrupt physical and emotional distance between them. "Potter... it's not just about... about the Dark Lord. It's - my father wouldn't follow anybody without some good reasons-"

"What good reasons? Your father gets off on random mayhem and murder and torture, does he?"

Draco started to move away from the window, realizing that this was absolutely not anything he should have started to talk about. Potter grabbed his shoulder, opened his mouth to say something angry - then snapped it shut and visibly got a hold of himself.

"All right." Potter took a deep breath. "Sorry. It's probably not a good idea for me to say anything right now." He cleared his throat. "Go ahead. What's going on with your family? And why does what your mother said have anything to do with it?"

Draco gathered himself and took another deep breath. "My parents know that sometimes things don't go as you wish," he said carefully, "and you have to adapt and make the best of what you've got. They've had to do this before, when the Dark Lord fell the first time, and when Father was arrested."

Potter nodded.

"When you can't... can't rely on the alliances and connections you had, you have to make new ones. You have to be able to rise again. Father's not one to just accept defeat."

"No, I suppose not," Potter said, watching a dejected-looking Carmichael lead his team off the pitch. "The last time your father had to switch sides, he said he'd been under an Imperius curse. I assume he's bright enough to know nobody will fall for that one again."

Draco shrugged. Probably not.

"And he got out of prison by paying off powerful people and pretending he wasn't as involved as I know he was." Draco stiffened slightly, but decided to let that one go. "So what's he going to do now? Go back to the ones who pretended to believe him and give them more money, so they'll believe he's switched sides for real?"

"He'll do what he can to make alliances with powerful people."

"And how do I figure into this?"

Draco shrugged. "I think they'll want to capitalize on you."

"Me? Your parents hate me."

"They know not everybody feels the way they do."

Potter mulled that over, and Draco could almost see him slowly putting pieces together. "So... they're going to remind everybody they're the in-laws of the bloody Chosen Boy Who Lived or whatever rubbish the Prophet's calling me now, and that'll get them 'alliances' with powerful people who like me?"

"Something like that."

"And they think I'll go along with that and pretend we're all one big happy family?" Draco nodded, and Potter scowled. "Over my dead body."

"Thanks ever so," Draco said dryly, not in the least bit surprised.

"I'm married to you, not your bloody family."

"I'm part of my bloody family. And, much as it pains all of us, so are you."

"I'm part of you and me, and as far as I'm concerned that's it."

"Somehow I'm sensing another fight coming on," Draco said evenly.

"Why? Do you want me to help rehabilitate your family?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I despise everything your father symbolizes and the idea of helping him makes my skin crawl."

"Why exactly do you hate him so much?"

"Apart from the fact that every couple of years he tries to kill me one way or another?"

Draco nodded, pointedly ignoring Potter's sarcastic tone.

"I hate what he stands for."

"I stand for the same things. Do you hate me?"

Potter turned to focus on the Gryffindor team, starting their drills. "You know I don't," he muttered stiffly.

"Why not?"

"You're not your father, Malfoy."

"I believe just about everything he believes in. You know that."

"I just - I find that difficult to believe. I mean, how can you?"

"Because he's right."

"All right, explain it to me, then. Other than mayhem and Muggle torture, what does he - what do you see in V- in him?"

"He's a powerful leader, Potter. And he makes a lot of sense, about a lot of things."

"It makes sense to kill people for no particular reason, does it?"

"It's a war. People die in wars."

"A war about what? Voldemort's pride?"

"It's not about his pride, it's about the survival of the wizarding world."

"Oh don't give me-" Potter again stopped himself with visible effort, and cleared his throat. "All right. Fine. Can you explain what the fu- er, what you mean by that?"

"It's about who we want to be. We're wizards, and that's supposed to mean something. It's not just doing little magic tricks to amuse Muggles or to knit awful jumpers. Magic is supposed to be powerful, and the people who use it are supposed to be strong. That means we can't let ourselves get polluted by outsiders, by people who'll dilute our blood and our gifts and destroy our traditions and our way of life."

"People like Hermione? When has she ever destroyed any traditions?"

"It's not about individuals, Potter!" he said, frustrated. "Granger may be one hell of a talented witch - and you don't have to look at me like I've grown a new head just because I can admit that out loud - but her kind doesn't belong in our world. They don't understand our customs, or what it means to be a witch or a wizard. Granger could study until all her rather large teeth fell out and she still wouldn't understand some things the youngest wizard children know instinctively. And people like the Weasleys, who embrace her and try to understand Muggles-" He stopped and shook his head. "They think they're building a bridge to the Muggle world, but how can they?"

"What do you mean?"

"What kind of future do they see? A world where Muggles and wizards hold hands and sing around bonfires on Halloween? That's insane, and it's dangerous, too. If our world were exposed right now, they'd want to kill us. They've tried to before. We need to keep ourselves pure and strong in order to protect ourselves. We need our magic to be strong enough so that we can protect ourselves." He paused. "It's nothing personal against Granger. It's her people. They're irrational and violent, and they can't be trusted."

"You've just described Voldemort, you know that, right?"

"I really wish you wouldn't say his name."

"I'll say his name if I bloody well want to."

"Fine. Sorry I brought this up." He turned away from Potter and they stood in uncomfortable silence, watching Weasley trying to settle a rather vocal argument between the Beaters and two of the Chasers.

Draco sighed. So this was what came of trying to be honest and open. Gryffindors really were idiots, if they thought this kind of thing beat silence and secrecy.

But then Potter lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes, and Draco sensed a weary kind of regret from him. "Maybe small steps is as far as we can go with this," Potter said hesitantly, putting a hand on Draco's arm. He nodded stiffly and Potter shifted closer. "Look, I'm sorry. You're - I push you to talk about this, and then when you do I snap at you. I'm sorry."

"Fine," Draco said grudgingly. Potter leaned a little closer, and after a moment's hesitation, Draco relaxed a bit. Potter moved to stand behind him, encircling him with his arms, his chin on Draco's shoulder. Draco leaned back slightly, his back resting against Potter's chest, both of them gazing out at the pitch.

"Can I make it up to you?" Potter said softly, and his breath on the side of Draco's neck, combined with the warmth of their embrace, unexpectedly stirred something in Draco. He drew in his breath. No, don't get excited. They might feel fine, but they were still in the hospital and Potter probably didn't mean that the way it sounded.

"You can do part of my Arithmancy assignment," he said, going for a casual tone, but Potter had apparently had caught his sudden interest.

"I'm rubbish at Arithmancy, you know that. I do have other talents, though," he said innocently, smiling into Draco's neck as Draco's pulse sped up.

Draco swallowed hard, but pulled away slightly. "My mother's probably coming back any minute," he pointed out.

"Ah. That's a bit of a mood killer."

"Just a bit. Not to mention we're still in the hospital."

"Yeah, there's that too." Potter sighed as they watched the Beaters start a new drill. "Speaking of which, why are we here? Yesterday it sounded like Esposito thought we were just fine, and then all of a sudden she started running all these tests on us and shooing people out and not letting us go home."

"I don't know. D'you think it's..." he trailed off, not wanting to voice his suspicion that maybe things weren't quite as rosy as they'd been led to believe.

"No, it's nothing to worry about," Esposito said and they both jumped, startled. "Sorry - I've never learned to make a decent amount of noise when I walk up behind people." She smiled apologetically. "You can go home, if you'd like. I wasn't really keeping you here for medical reasons. I just wanted you to... get a chance to sort yourselves out. Again. Before throwing you back among your peers."

"What?" Potter said.

"And a chance for you to think about what you'll be going back to. Especially you, Mr. Malfoy," she said pointedly.

"Why especially him?" Potter asked as Draco's eyes narrowed.

Esposito ignored Potter. "You're a Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. Use your Slytherin brains to do more than just wonder about what your parents are going to do now," she said. "You're free to go, gentlemen. I would suggest your quarters first, instead of your dormitories." She gave them a small smile. "And don't worry, Mr. Malfoy. I'll find some excuse to keep your mother here for a decent amount of time."

ooooooo

"Nervous?" Draco smirked at Potter's half-stifled yelp as they entered their quarters and Draco closed the door by pushing Potter up against it.

"Just startled," Potter chuckled, relaxing. "That was a little unexpect-oh-" he drew in his breath as Draco started to press small kisses into the side of his neck.

"Why?" Draco asked, his words muffled. "Were you under the impression that we were coming here to study?"

"No, I just thought you'd - um, don't stop that - let the door close before you jumped me."

"You thought wrong," Draco said, and they stopped talking in favour of more pleasant activities, quickly shedding clothing as they manoeuvred themselves into their bedroom and fell into bed.

Oh Merlin oh yes Draco thought as he pressed Potter back into the pillows, both of them panting and hard already, and it was so good to be able to do this without fighting exhaustion. To hold each other firmly again, Potter's fingers gripping Draco's hips hard enough to bruise, thrusting against each other, kissing fiercely in between moans and incoherent pleading...

"Wait-" Potter broke off. "D'you want to-" He waved at their night table and the small bottle of oil.

"Ohgodyes," he gasped, "but fucking hurry up-" And they laughed together breathlessly, their need so overpowering that Draco felt dizzy, and Potter sat up and pulled Draco onto his lap with almost bruising strength, Draco's thighs gripping his hips as they moved together urgently.

"Oh fuck, oh god, I don't - ah, Merlin, you're-" he groaned as the pressure grew more intense and Potter bit the side of his neck.

"Y-yeah - oh-" Potter moaned and squeezed his eyes shut, his climax triggering Draco's in a rush of heat.

They held on to each other tightly, panting together for a few moments before Draco realized what felt so odd about this: he felt fine. A little tired from the exertion, but mostly energized and tingling with afterglow. No insidious slow pull down to sleep.

He raised his head and met Potter's wondering gaze, and they grinned at each other.

"We're fine. It really worked," Potter whispered, and Draco answered him with a kiss, threading his fingers through Potter's hair. Potter was still breathing heavily as he caressed Draco's lips with his and lay back, drawing one hand slowly up his back to his neck, and Draco could feel him still trembling as they explored one another, slow and sweet and completely different from the hungry urgency of a few minutes ago.

Yeah, this was much better than passing out. Draco could definitely get used to this. "Mm," he murmured lazily after a few minutes. "Nice to be on top for once."

Potter smiled, then cleared his throat. "Do you... do you mind?" he asked hesitantly. "That... um, that you haven't topped?"

"Why would I?"

"Well... it's just... er..."

Draco smirked down at Potter. "Potter, did you listen, at all, to what Esposito said when she talked about topping and bottoming? The pros and cons of each?"

"Well, yeah, but - you mean, you're okay with it?"

The smirk grew into a snicker. "Why? D'you think I'm selflessly sacrificing myself for your sexual pleasure?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Lying back and thinking of England and-"

"Malfoy-"

"-pining for the day when you allow me to have fun too-" he was dissolving into laughter as Potter's expression turned sheepish.

"Stop that."

"Sorry," Draco laughed, not sorry at all. "You know I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you."

"Only I'm not laughing," Potter pointed out dryly.

"All right, then, you're right," Draco said cheerfully, "I'm laughing at you. It's just that you're - Merlin, we've shagged how many times now and you're actually blushing. It's endearing, I suppose, if you've got a kink for hopelessly pathetic-" He ducked as Potter aimed a slap in his direction.

"Malfoy, I'm trying to be serious here."

"Oh I know, I know - that's what makes it so funny - oh, all right." He got a hold of himself and pasted what he hoped was a more serious expression on his face. "No, I'm not feeling taken advantage of, or hard done by. Well... maybe hard done by, but in a very good way - and the harder the better." Potter rolled his eyes in annoyance. "And yes, I'll be delighted to top, if you ever decide to be sexually adventurous and spread your, erm, wings, as it were-" he stopped again as Potter hit him with a pillow.

"Prat."

"Prude."

"I'm not a-"

Sir Xander cleared his throat. "Mr. Malfoy's parents are at the door," he said apologetically. "They would like you to join them in Professor Snape's private quarters when you can. They suggested that Mr. Potter bring something to occupy himself with."

"So much for keeping your mother in the hospital a decent amount of time," Potter sighed. "What d'you suppose they want?"

"Hopefully to let me know what's going on with our family. Maybe give me advice about what I'm supposed to do now."

"That sounds like fun."

"Believe me, it won't be." Draco sighed and allowed himself a final kiss before reluctantly sitting up. "Come on," he said. "Go and get your Arithmancy assignment. Let's get this over with as soon as possible."

ooooooo

Day 42, Monday

It had been... interesting advice, to say the least, thought Harry two days later as they waited for their dinner at the Three Broomsticks. Not that Harry had been privy to the conversation, but Malfoy had filled him in as soon as his parents had left. Though Malfoy didn't pretend that there weren't some things that had to remain private, and Harry appreciated that.

Face them head-on and don't dare to withdraw even for a moment, Lucius had said first of all. Go back to Slytherin right away, or your absence will be seen as cowardice.

Don't try to insist on the kind of deference you had before, unless you're damn sure you're going to get it, because trying for it and not getting it will make you lose face. But don't ignore their little rebellions, either; if they defy you, let them, but let them know that you've noted their defiance and will remember it in the future.

Be scrupulously polite to everybody (and here Harry had had to laugh because Malfoy Senior had clarified that everybody included Weasleys and Muggle-borns). No need to be overly friendly; Malfoys were masters at the art of frozen courtesy. Just don't deliberately piss anybody off.

And above all, don't answer any questions. "No comment" was to be Malfoy's catchphrase from now on, if anybody asked what Lucius was doing and who he was allied to.

It had all seemed to Harry a bit much to adjust to, so abruptly, but Malfoy had mentioned that he was an old hand at this; the ten months of Lucius' incarceration had apparently taught him a lot about being on the receiving end of Slytherin nastiness and not taking his supremacy over the rest of them for granted ever again.

And that had been a good thing, because there had been unmistakable signs of Slytherin rebellion from the moment they'd come back. Nothing too overt yet, though Nott had made a few barbed comments about his father. Mostly impolite stares, snide half-whispered comments, and casual meanness like Queenie Greengrass' "I believe it's Draco's turn to strain the bat dung, Professor," in Potions this morning.

It was a good thing they were out of that environment, for now, anyway. Esposito had suggested to Dumbledore that they should be allowed to leave school grounds together once in a while, and they had decided to take advantage of the opportunity as often as possible. And it was such a relief, being out here, though Malfoy was a little more on edge than he normally was when they were alone. Harry suspected he needed a bit of time to drop the on-guard stance he'd had to maintain ever since they'd come out of the hospital wing.

"This is a nice place," Harry commented as their dinners arrived.

"This is not a nice place. It's serviceable," Malfoy said brusquely.

"Don't be a prat. It's nice enough," Harry said, cutting into his pasta.

"You are thoroughly lacking in class."

"Thanks very much," Harry said mildly. "Any idea how your parents are going to deal with my classlessness among the kind of people they want to impress?"

Malfoy smiled slightly. "Probably remind everybody that it's not your fault you were raised by savages. And remind them who your father was."

"My father? Why?"

"The Potters were purebloods. Fairly well-bred and well-off." Malfoy shrugged. "That's enough for many wizards these days. Few people other than my parents would even care much about the fact that you're a-" Malfoy hesitated.

"A what? A half-blood?" Harry chuckled at Malfoy's uncomfortable expression. "I'm not embarrassed to be that, Malfoy," he said. "And I'm not ashamed of my Muggle-born mother, either. Or her Muggle parents."

"Oh really? And what about her Muggle sister, then? After all she and her husband did to you?"

Harry scowled at Malfoy. They hadn't yet discussed what each of them had learned about the other's family during the healing spell, and this didn't seem like the best place to start. Not with Malfoy already out-of-sorts. "Malfoy..." he said warningly.

Malfoy ignored his tone. "The Muggles who raised you abused you. I saw your memories, Potter. They stuck you in a bloody closet and treated you worse than any house elf."

"They-"

"They were less than human to you, because they were afraid of your magic. And you still think we have nothing to fear from their kind?"

Apparently Malfoy was itching for a fight. "'Their kind?'" Harry echoed. "Do you remember any of Hermione's memories? Because from what I saw of her parents, they're decent people. They care about her."

"Oh, yes, they care about her so much they dumped her off on our doorstep."

"Is that what you think Muggle-borns' parents do? Dump their children into the wizarding world?"

"What would you call it?"

"Their children don't fit into the Muggle world. Their parents care enough about them to let them come to Hogwarts, even though that means they'll end up losing them to the magical world. A lot of people wouldn't be able to do that." He stabbed at his meal, a little angrily. "Your mother didn't even want you to go to Durmstrang; Hermione's parents let her go farther away than they could ever reach."

Malfoy shrugged, unimpressed, and Harry blew out his breath in frustration.

"I'll say another thing for Hermione's parents, they never Crucioed her pets, either," Harry muttered irately, and winced as soon as the words were out. "Oh - god, sorry, that's-" He clapped his hand over his mouth.

Bugger. That had to be one of the most tactless things he'd ever said to anybody. It almost beat the time he'd asked Cho Chang how her summer was, the summer after Cedric Diggory had been killed. Why did his most asinine comments have to be directed at people he fancied?

He cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on the table. "I'm... really sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He could feel Malfoy's eyes boring a hole through his head, and squirmed at the silence that dropped between them.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "My father wanted me to learn a lesson from that," he said, his voice tense. "And I did."

Harry looked up in disbelief. How could Malfoy possibly defend what had been done to him? "What did you learn?"

"I learned to open doors using only magic," he said grimly. "And I learned that sometimes you have to make sacrifices for something important."

"Your pet's well-being, in exchange for opening doors?"

"There are more important things in this world than stupid pets," he said flatly.

"How old were you?"

"I don't know, it wasn't that unusual a punishment. Probably five or six."

"Malfoy... that's... that was too young. Surely he could have taught you all of that without hurting you so badly."

"Maybe, but the point is, his method worked. And that's the only thing that matters."

"The ends justify the means? That's a horrible way to look at life."

"It's not horrible, it's realistic."

"It's cynical and unethical."

"You'd never have made it as a Slytherin, Potter."

"That's not what the Sorting Hat said," Harry muttered, picking up his fork again, grateful that they were apparently leaving behind the topic of Malfoy's childhood.

"The Sorting Hat? Wanted to sort you into Slytherin? You're joking."

"I'm not joking," Harry insisted. "It told me I could go far in Slytherin."

"So why didn't it put you there?"

Harry suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. "I... I asked it not to."

"Why?"

"Erm... I just thought that... I'd heard..." Harry fidgeted briefly, then steadied himself. "You'd just been sorted into Slytherin," he said bluntly.

"And?"

"And I didn't want to be where you were."

"You asked the Hat to put you somewhere else because of me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I took a bit of a dislike to you, remember?"

"Vividly. I didn't know I'd made that much of an impression."

"You were the first wizard child I'd ever met, and you insulted the first adult who'd ever been kind to me." Malfoy stared at him, totally lost. "Hagrid. He was the first person from the wizarding world that I ever met. The first person who was decent to me. He brought me to the wizarding world - and then I met you and you insulted him."

Malfoy shook his head slowly. "Funny. I don't remember that at all."

"You probably knew more wizard children than I did."

"And more adults who were kind to me," Malfoy said quietly, and Harry reflected that it was odd how this revelation about how much Harry had hated him from the beginning didn't seem to upset Malfoy at all. If anything, he seemed far more thoughtful and calm than when they'd first sat down to eat.

"I wish... I wish some of those memories hadn't come out in the circle." Harry paused. "I wish everybody hadn't seen some of that..."

"You and me both," Malfoy said with feeling.

Harry winced as he remembered one extremely private memory that they'd unwittingly shared with everybody. "I don't just mean the other people in the circle, though. I... I mean you too. I didn't..." He cleared his throat. "I didn't want you to see what my childhood was like."

There was a long silence. "Neither did I," Malfoy finally said.

"No, I suppose not." He cleared his throat again. "Let's not mention it again, right?"

Malfoy sighed. "I'm a little tired of avoiding sensitive topics with you," he said. "But if you want to not-"

"No, I - I mostly said that for your benefit."

"Then don't bother. We saw what we saw. I don't want to pretend we didn't."

"Oh." Harry went back to his meal. "You know, about the circle... I am sorry your family's in trouble because of it."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow in cynical disbelief.

"I won't pretend I'm sorry that your family might have to switch sides, because I'm bloody tired of literally sleeping with the enemy. But I am sorry the other Slytherins are being gits to you."

Malfoy shrugged.

"You will get through it. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I just didn't enjoy this much the last time, and I'm not enjoying it much right now."

"No. Here, let's talk about something else."

"Such as?"

"Well... let's assume we can play Quidditch in the next few months. How are you going to get Carmichael to toss out Baddock and take you back?"

"I'm not sure yet," Malfoy said, toying with his food absently.

"You know... Carmichael's girlfriend's Muggle-born."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I know. I'm surprised at his parents for not taking him to task over that."

"It's supposed to be a secret."

"Worst-kept secret in the school."

"It might give you something to bargain with, though."

"Blackmail? That can be a little risky-"

"No, not blackmail," Harry chuckled. "It's just that he'll have to choose between you and Baddock. Maybe you can remind him that Baddock and his family are on the side that would disown him as soon as look at him, for sleeping with a Muggle-born girl - and you and your family aren't, not right now. That plus the fact that you can fly circles around Baddock... it might help, you never know."

Malfoy stared at Harry blankly for a moment, then his mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Maybe the Sorting Hat knew what it was talking about after all," he chuckled.

ooooooo

"You're leaving?" Hermione asked Healer Esposito with surprise as she walked into the hospital wing.

Esposito looked up from the scrolls she was carefully packing into a black bag and smiled. "I'm done here, so yes," she said. "I'm glad you stopped by; gives me a chance to say goodbye without having to look all over the school for you."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Your help really was invaluable, you know. I very much appreciated it."

"I didn't find the imbalance," Hermione reminded her. "I thought it was succubus magic."

"So did I, at first."

"But you discounted it fairly quickly."

"Because of the research you did, and how you presented it. You were very thorough and you didn't hide any of the evidence that went against your pet theory. That's a rare trait, you know. And invaluable for a researcher or a Healer."

Hermione nodded, accepting the compliment. "May I ask you a question?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you keep Harry and Malfoy here for two days? One minute you were ready to let them go - and then you weren't."

Esposito pursed her lips and regarded Hermione thoughtfully. "You must have sensed things were different between them after they woke up," she finally said.

"Yes."

"Things were different around them as well. They needed time to adjust to both changes. Particularly Mr. Malfoy. It would've been damned irresponsible for me to throw him back out there without giving him a chance to remember he's a Slytherin."

Hermione nodded. "And why are you encouraging them to spend time alone together now? I heard you suggested they be allowed to go to Hogsmeade again, alone. You said it might be a good idea for them to do every few weeks or so."

"Well, believe it or not, Miss Granger, I believe they have the makings of a good marriage," she said, and chuckled at Hermione's sceptical expression.

"All they want is to be able to not kill each other until the bond allows them to be apart."

"Yes, that's what they think. But it doesn't have to be that way. They have a lot in common, you know; they could do each other a lot of good." She paused. "They could do a lot of people a lot of good," she added, almost to herself.

"What do you mean?"

"Probably nothing." Esposito shrugged and turned away, flicking her wand at her bag so that it sorted itself out and snapped shut. "Call it hopeless romanticism and leave it at that." She flicked her wand again and the bag floated up. She turned and smiled at Hermione. "It was a true pleasure to get to know you, Miss Granger. I have a feeling I'll see you again."

"Goodbye, Healer," Hermione said, and Esposito nodded at her and started out the door.

"Healer?" she called out impulsively as Esposito was just about to leave.

"Yes?"

"Were you ever a Seeker? When you went to Hogwarts?"

Esposito's eyes twinkled. "Yes, I was. I won Slytherin the Quidditch cup in my fifth year. One of the happiest memories of my life." Hermione stared at her, bemused. "Sometimes we can be human too, Miss Granger. Try to remember that. And take care of them - both of them. I've a feeling they're going to need all the friends they can get."

ooooooo

Day 56, Monday

"Malfoy, come on, it's time to get up," Harry said impatiently, opening their curtains.

"Go. Away."

"Not a chance. Get up."

Malfoy burrowed under his pillow.

"Malfoy. Monday. Potions. Snape."

Malfoy groaned. "All right, all right," he sighed and sat up.

"Shower room's empty," Zabini informed them, drying his hair as he came back into the dorm room. "Best get there before Nott does."

Harry winced and they hurried to the showers. Nott had hexed the showerheads to pour bubotuber pus on Friday, and they'd only escaped injury by sheer luck, because Harry's towel had happened to fall to the floor and he'd stepped away from his shower to pick it up just before the caustic pus came raining down.

Of course, they couldn't prove it was Nott. He'd just been the last person seen leaving the shower room, and thus the most likely candidate. They weren't lacking in those, though.

"All clear?" Harry asked, after carefully searching for physical and magical tricks and traps. Malfoy nodded guardedly.

What a nice way to start the day, Harry thought as he stepped under the water. On the alert for not-so-practical practical jokes, from the moment they woke up.

He leaned against the shower wall, enjoying the soothing water, trying hard not to think of how much work he had to do today. Two weeks post-hospital, they were still about a week behind in class, though they probably would've been fully caught up if they didn't have to waste so much time dealing with the various hexes the other Slytherins had seen fit to plague them with.

It was too bad the NEWTS didn't include this kind of thing; bubotuber pus detection probably wasn't on the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam.

The door opened and Harry heard a disgusted snort. "I really wish you wouldn't shower in here at the same time," said Simon Edgars, a sixth-year Slytherin and good friend of Theo Nott. "I don't particularly want an eyeful of the special kind of love you two share."

"Best close your eyes, then," Malfoy said pleasantly, not bothering to open his, "because I was about to give Potter the blow job of a lifetime. Or you could join in. You know I've been dying for your spotty arse for years, Simon." He ducked under the water briefly, rinsing soap from his face. "Besides, it's always you I'm thinking of, every single time Potter does that thing with his-" The door slammed shut behind Edgars, and Malfoy snickered.

One down, about sixty to go before first period, thought Harry even as he chuckled over Edgar's horrified expression. It was no wonder Malfoy was so tense these days, and barely opened his mouth except to trade barbs with his house mates.

He wondered once again just how similar this situation was to the ten months after Lucius had been arrested, because for the life of him he couldn't recall Malfoy being anything other than his usual arrogant obnoxious self that year. But Malfoy claimed that what he'd been put through that year had been almost as bad as this.

Apparently those ten months had also been the origin of Malfoy's still existing enmity with Nott. At the time, Parkinson had stood firmly by him, as had Crabbe and Goyle, whose fathers were in prison too. Zabini and Queenie Greengrass had been neutral, and Millicent Bulstrode had had a few moments of outright defiance. But Nott's father, abandoned by Lucius near the beginning of the attack at the Department of Mysteries, had directed his son to throw Lucius' betrayal in Malfoy's face at every opportunity while the Malfoys were vulnerable. Malfoy's father, and Crabbe's and Goyle's, had all been released. Nott Sr. was still in prison and apparently still bitter, if his son's attitude towards Malfoy was any indication.

Harry finished his shower and dried himself off, then waited impatiently for Malfoy.

"Malfoy, come on."

Malfoy shook his head, water pouring down his hair. "Just a minute..."

"Right, then. I'm leaving, and I'm taking our bond with me..." Harry said, backing up and watching Malfoy scowl as they both felt the discomfort of Harry's growing distance.

Malfoy turned off the water. "Sodding impatient git," he muttered, drying himself off, and they headed for the doors, almost bumping into Crabbe coming in as they went out.

"'Scuse - oh." Crabbe stepped back, looking around furtively to see if anybody had seen him address Malfoy politely.

That had to the worst difference between sixth year and right now: ever since the Prophet had run that "DEATH EATER MALFOY REFORMED?" article last Monday, both Crabbe and Goyle had been extremely ill at ease around him; Malfoy figured they and their fathers had been ordered to shun the Malfoys. And that cut deep. Much deeper than Greengrass' move from the neutral to the hostile camp, probably a side-effect of her current relationship with Nott.

And there had been many other signs of general Slytherin disrespect in the last two weeks, which Malfoy often met by quietly backing off with a slight smile and narrowed eyes that showed clearly that he'd noticed and would remember the slight later. Harry never would've believed Malfoy capable of that kind of restraint if he hadn't seen it.

Malfoy ignored Crabbe and headed for the dorm, and they quickly started getting dressed. "Where's my tie?" he asked absently, and Harry blew his breath out with impatience as Goyle opened his mouth, then shut it nervously, staring at Malfoy's tie on the floor. It was clear that both he and Crabbe still wanted to be with Malfoy - why, Harry had no idea, as Malfoy had never seemed to treat them particularly well - but they didn't know how not to follow him, and got discombobulated by the simplest things.

"Here," Harry said, picking up the tie. They left the dorm room, Malfoy distractedly looking over the contents of his schoolbag as they entered the common room, crowded with students on their way to breakfast.

"Wait a minute." Malfoy stopped. "Do you have my Transfiguration essay?"

Harry shook his head as he tied his hair back. "No, I've only got my own."

"Damn." Malfoy rifled through his bag, taking out scrolls and putting them on a side table as he searched.

"Potter, did you ever finish the third part of that Arithmancy assignment?" Parkinson asked.

"Er - no, I didn't really understand it."

"Thick as mud, I swear," Parkinson smirked at Bulstrode. "Listen, I'll go over it with you tonight. It's not that hard if you understand the concepts behind it."

"Oh - thanks," Harry said, still not quite used to being spoken to in Slytherin house, even after two weeks. Another effect of the ongoing social upheaval in Slytherin house: while he wasn't exactly embraced by the Slytherins on Malfoy's side, he was certainly included a lot more than before, in an overt display of loyalty to Malfoy.

"There!" said Malfoy with relief. "Ten inches on the perils of gaseous transfigurations. I wasn't looking forward to doing it again." He started re-packing his scrolls. Suddenly he was pushed forward as another student almost fell on him.

"Hey! Watch where-" he began as potions ingredients fell out of the other boy's schoolbag.

"Malfoy!" Harry snatched Malfoy's hand out of the way just as a bottle of etchwater came uncorked and spilled its contents onto the scrolls.

There was a loud hissing sound and several wands came out amid yells of "Evanesco!" and the etchwater disappeared. Malfoy and Harry stared at the steaming spot on the carpet where the side table, and all of Malfoy's scrolls, had just been.

There was a small hush.

"Oh dear. Excuse me, Draco, I didn't see you there," the other boy said innocently, picking up his potions ingredients.

"Fuck you, Archer," Malfoy said, his voice tense and his eyes firmly on the floor.

"Temper, temper, Draco," Archer said, exchanging a grin with Nott, and started out the door. "After all, accidents do hap-" And he tripped and fell flat on his face, crushing his schoolbag - with its potions ingredients - under his body. Harry glanced at Parkinson, very busily fiddling with her tie, the tip of her wand barely visible inside one sleeve. Caught a slight smirk on her face, and grinned at her.

"You all right, there, Archer?" she said loudly over Archer's frantic efforts to get shards of glass and potions ingredients off his clothes. "Bit clumsy today, aren't you? You should really watch yourself." And she stepped neatly over him and headed out the door.

ooooooo

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said, and he sat down next to her. He grunted in response. "Not so good?"

"Not so good," Harry agreed tightly. "Look," he said to Malfoy in an undertone, "tell Snape what happened, I'm sure he'll-"

"No," Malfoy said brusquely. "Leave off, Potter."

"Bring your assignments to the front of the class," Snape said, entering the room.

"Did Malfoy read the paper this morning?" Ron asked as they headed towards the front of the room to drop off their papers.

"No, why?"

"His father's in it again."

"Oh, marvellous," Harry sighed. Malfoy's father had told him to follow the papers carefully, but Malfoy had quickly grown disgusted at what passed for news about him and his family, and had stopped after only three days.

"Malfoy, Ron says your father's in the paper again," Harry murmured as he and Ron came back.

"Bugger," Malfoy said irately.

"Oh is he a bugger too, Draco? Runs in the family, does it?" Greengrass giggled.

Malfoy ignored her. "What was the article about?" he asked Ron.

"The usual rumours. One source says your father's renovating part of Malfoy Manor for you two after you finish school and you're... erm, well, in love or something, and another says he's planning on bumping off Harry as soon as possible and you still call each other by your last names and hate each other even more than before."

Malfoy groaned. "That'll make Father's day, I'm sure."

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape called out from the front of the class. "Where is your assignment?

"I don't have it, sir," Malfoy said shortly.

"This is the second time in two weeks that you have missed handing in an assignment, Mr. Malfoy. Would you care to explain why?"

"No sir."

"Very well then, five points from Slytherin, and I will see you in detention tonight."

Malfoy nodded tightly, ignoring the titters from part of the Slytherin contingent. "Yes sir."

Harry glared at Snape even as he told himself that Snape didn't really have much choice in this; it wasn't like he could just ignore the fact that Malfoy wasn't handing things in. And he being as lenient as possible; two missed assignments would certainly have earned Harry at least twenty points off and three detentions, not to mention a heavy dose of Snape's special brand of publicly humiliating sarcasm.

That didn't help Malfoy right now, though. "Malfoy," he said softly. "Don't let it bother you-"

"Don't tell me not to let it bother me," Malfoy muttered angrily, shrugging off his hand and starting to take notes.

"Look, as long as your NEWTS are good-"

"Sod the NEWTS. This isn't about marks."

"But-"

"Mr. Potter, is there something you would like to share with the class, or should I just take ten points from Gryffindor?"

"No sir," Harry said. "I mean, yes sir. Sorry." He turned to his notes and elbowed Malfoy lightly. "See?" he murmured. "He still hates me more than you. Isn't that worth a smile?"

And Malfoy gave a small chuckle before bending his head back to his work.