Bond

Chapter 13

November 28

Day 61, Saturday

Draco stretched tiredly and cracked a few bones in his back. He and Potter were in the library, about halfway through their scheduled three hours of studying and revising notes, which was to be capped off by dinner in Hogsmeade. Which he was starting to look forward to rather alarmingly.

He shouldn't need it so much, but he did. Needed time away from Slytherin and the tension and hostility there. Time away from Gryffindor and its irritating, cloying sweetness, especially in the way they were treating him lately. Ignorant gits thought they were doing him a favour, including him in their social circle. Feeling sorry for him for what Slytherin was doing. Welcoming him with open arms, with a large helping of smug See How Noble We Are and a nauseating dash of Aren't You Grateful To Us For Befriending You In Your Time Of Need.

It made him want to hex them all into oblivion.

At least he was no longer so self-conscious around the Gryffindors who'd taken part in the healing circle. McGonagall and Snape hadn't been a problem; teachers saving students' lives had become almost routine during his years at Hogwarts, and he didn't have to be around them in social settings anyway. Blaise and Pansy had merely pointed out that he would be forever in their debt, not just for the healing spell but for remaining loyal to him despite his family's fall from grace with the Dark Lord. But for weeks he'd felt utterly exposed, and uneasy with his burden of gratitude, around Weasley, Granger and Longbottom. Spending any time in their presence had been rather uncomfortable.

He'd finally gotten used to it, but Gryffindor was still irritating. The only bright spot at Gryffindor Tower right now was actually Seamus Finnigan, with his amusing discomfort over the whole 'gay' thing. He still looked away squeamishly when he saw Draco and Potter in the same bed, was unable to stay in the same room when they touched, and had even mumbled something about "Can't you do that somewhere else" once when Potter had kissed Draco, which had prompted the other Gryffindor boys to treat him to a round of rather merciless - and very funny - teasing about his prudishness.

At least his mortified homophobia was honest. Stupid and Muggle-induced, but honest.

Well... not entirely Muggle-induced. Plenty of the Slytherin purebloods had shown they were quite willing to stoop to homophobia as well, if it helped denigrate Draco and Potter's characters.

"Malfoy, stop that," Harry said absently, placing a hand on Draco's neck without looking up from his Arithmancy notes.

"Stop what?"

"Grinding your teeth. Relax." Potter started to rub firmly at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "God, you're tense," he murmured, still not looking up from his notes.

Draco dipped his head a little lower, startled at just how good the simple neck-rubbing felt, as Potter's hand moved to the base of his neck. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"What?"

"With your hand. It doesn't feel like a normal spell..." he trailed off, tilting his head to give Potter more room to work.

Potter looked up, amused, his hand still working its magic. "It's not a spell, just a neck rub. Haven't you ever had one before?"

"Mm, don't think so. It's really not magic?" He closed his eyes.

"No, it's really not." Potter's voice held a chuckle.

"Mm. It's nice..." he trailed off, letting himself enjoy the feeling of contentment, of being cared for. Potter leaned in closer, moving to rub the space between his shoulder blades with both hands now, and he vaguely hoped nobody was watching and snickering but then decided they could bloody well snicker if they wanted to. This felt too good to stop. And who knew, maybe one of those 'anonymous sources' would go to the Prophet with evidence that he and Potter didn't hate each other. He sighed, pillowing his head on his arms, and only opened his eyes after Potter gave his back a final squeeze and cleared his throat.

"Hmm?"

"We're going now," Potter said.

"What? Thought you wanted to finish your Defence revision?"

"With you grinding your teeth and so tense your neck and back feel like solid rock? No thanks. We're going to go flying, then go to Hogsmeade early."

"But-" Draco's half-hearted objections died quickly as Potter determinedly put their books away and stood up.

All right. Why not? They hadn't flown much lately, what with their staggering study load and the various annoyances at Slytherin house, but it was a nice afternoon, they were almost caught up with their schoolwork, and he bloody well deserved a nice break.

This certainly qualified as a nice break, he decided as they started chasing the Snitch a few minutes later, all thoughts of their housemates and newspapers and Defence revision blown away in the rush of wind. Sex was nice, and if he were forced to choose one or the other he'd obviously pick sex over flying, but they couldn't do that all the time, and there was something supremely satisfying about Seeker's Games. Especially Seeker's Games that tended to end so very well for him.

"How in hell do you keep winning this?" Potter asked irately after Draco caught the Snitch yet again, winning their last game set. "You're never this good in matches."

"You're never as good on your own as you are with your six adoring flying fans," he smirked.

"What difference does that make?"

"I always follow you during games," Draco said. "I'm very good at thinking about the other Seeker. With you, it's always just you against the Snitch, and nothing else exists. You let your team-mates deal with the other Seeker."

"But that's what you're supposed to do during matches," Potter said as they started down.

"Matches, maybe. Not Seeker's Games."

Potter nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder if your house mates are still betting on you."

Draco shrugged, not particularly wanting to think about that.

"Look, I am sorry they're-"

"No, don't tell me you're sorry again," Draco said irritably as they landed next to the Quidditch hut. "Believe it or not, it's not comforting."

"All right, I won't."

"Come on, Potter, let's go to Hogsmeade," he said, putting away the Snitch and loosening his flying gear.

"Harry," Potter said after a beat.

"What?"

"Not that I want to make things any easier for your parents, but they're right about one thing. It's probably stupid for us to still be on a last-name basis."

"I'm not going to use your first name in public just for the sake of publicity."

"We're not in public right now," Potter said, and Draco looked away, unlacing his gloves. "Look, if you don't want to for some reason of your own-"

"No, just-"

"Then stop referring to me like an acquaintance. At least when we're in private. You can call me Potty for all I care when you're with your friends."

Draco chuckled. "All right."

"Come on. Let's go to Hogsmeade so you can whine about the shoddy service and bad food and brag about how much better the food is at wherever it is you Malfoys normally dine."

Draco laughed. "And after dinner, let's go home," he said impulsively.

"Not Slytherin?" Potter said, a little surprised, taking off his shin pads. They hadn't slept in their own quarters in over a week. "What happened to the obedient Malfoy heir?"

"He's still here, just pissed off and needing a break from his pathetic housemates."

"Good night to skive off, actually; your house mates'll probably just assume we're going back to our place after Hogsmeade to shag like rabbits."

"Who says we're not?" he said, and Potter grinned at him. Draco leaned in for a kiss and Potter responded eagerly, pulling Draco closer. "Mm..." Draco whispered into Potter's ear, "maybe we can go to Hogsmeade later..."

"Erm... I'm hungry..." Potter said softly, pressing a line of kisses into Draco's neck.

"Me too," Draco snickered, running his hands down Potter's back.

"Hungry for food," Potter chuckled.

"Come on - we can always just get dinner from the house elves..."

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes contentedly while Potter continued his ministrations, both of them still warm and smelling of wind and exercise and dragonhide flying gear, their mild arousal a pleasant backdrop to the comfort of holding and being held, fingers threading through his hair-

A soft throat-clearing from behind startled him, and Potter reluctantly looked up - then stiffened and sucked in his breath. Before Draco could turn to confront whoever was threatening them, he froze at the sound of a familiar voice.

"I do hope I'm not... interrupting anything?"

Draco felt his stomach drop.

"Father." He took a deep breath and forced himself to grab what he could of his composure, let go of Potter and turned around.

"Draco. Mr. Potter," Father said politely. There was a short silence, during which Draco tried to steady his breathing and quash his acute discomfort. There was absolutely no reason for it. This was just his father, and Draco hadn't been doing anything wrong; why was he feeling this bizarre... guilt?

"I was told that you would be found in the library until later today. Severus mentioned something about a detention? A missing assignment?"

"I-I finished it," Draco said quickly, cursing the stammer in his voice, the flush heating his cheeks.

"I should hope so. It wouldn't do to get behind on your schoolwork," Father said. There was another short pause. "Mr. Potter, I would like to speak with my son alone for a few moments. The Great Hall is nearly empty right now; perhaps we can sit at one table and you can study at a different table. I believe Madam Pomfrey has said that your bond has settled to the point that you may be physically apart for a few minutes?"

Potter looked at Draco questioningly, and Draco nodded. "Of course," he said, and gestured for his father to precede them back towards the school. "Erm - when did you get here?" he asked Father as they started walking.

"Not long ago. I do hope it's not inconvenient to drop in on you like this; I had some business in Hogsmeade."

"No, no, not inconvenient," Draco said, falling into casual small talk with extreme difficulty, hating his father's ability to, as always, look and sound perfectly at ease.

They found a spot near the fireplace at the nearly empty Slytherin table, and Potter settled himself with his books at the Hufflepuff table, as far away as the bond comfortably allowed him to be. Draco frowned as Father took a seat facing the Hufflepuff table, forcing Draco to sit with his back to Potter.

Getting Draco to feel uncomfortable from the outset. Wonderful.

"How are you, Draco?" his father asked after asking a passing house-elf for tea for both of them.

"Fine, thank you, Father," he said politely, and they spoke of nothing important for a few minutes, waiting for their tea to arrive, with Draco growing steadily more uneasy.

"I've cast a sound scrambling spell around us, so we may speak freely, I believe," Father said finally. "I would of course have preferred to do this elsewhere, but as the Ministry is still somewhat hesitant about me being anywhere near Potter..." Father's slight smile showed how amusing he found it that the Ministry thought he'd be so foolish as to harm Potter.

"I assume you've been reading the papers," he began, and Draco nodded, guiltily aware that he hadn't. He'd meant to, but-

"Have you?" Father asked pointedly, and Draco cursed himself. Father always, always knew when he was lying. How the hell did he do that?

"Not... not always, Father. I, I tried, but with our classes-"

"Let me summarize for you, then," Father said in the impatient condescending tone that always cut right through Draco. "There is great uncertainty as to where my loyalties lie. There is also great uncertainty as to when and where the Dark Lord's supporters are going to strike next. There have been rumours of increased Death Eater activity lately; a few random disappearances, a few break-ins at prominent homes, theft of certain Dark Magic items."

Draco nodded. Blaise and Pansy had told him as much - and it had been incredibly difficult to hear it as an outsider, and to know that asking his parents for more details would be useless because in all likelihood they knew no more than he did.

"I don't need to tell you that this is a delicate time." Draco shook his head. "You were aware that there were... certain plans in place, before this curse was cast on you." Draco nodded. "You were not told of the details then, nor do you need to know them now. All that you need to know is that certain events which were to take place this autumn were delayed, because of your bond, as a gesture of good will from the Dark Lord towards our family. He did not promise to delay his plans forever - nor did I expect him to - but he was gracious enough to allow us time to try to deal with your bond before making his move. I cannot stress enough just how much was done for our benefit, Draco." Father's eyes were serious. "Nor can I stress enough just how difficult it was for me to obtain such an indulgence from the Dark Lord."

Draco swallowed hard and nodded again.

"As you are no doubt aware, the healing circle upset the rather precarious balance among the supporters of the Dark Lord." Father took a sip of his tea. "I have tried to do what I can to remain on good terms with the Dark Lord, from a distance. I have not been before him; I don't flatter myself that I'm important enough for him to not punish me for my involvement in the circle, as a matter of discipline. Were I he, I would do the same."

"Yes sir."

"We are doing what we can to not burn our bridges in case it is at all possible to come back to the right side at some point in the future. But if we do, we will need something to return with - some token of our loyalty that will be adequate compensation for my actions. Information about the other side; weapons they may have, defences and how to breach them, identities of members of the Order of the Phoenix."

Draco nodded, forcing himself to ignore the faint nausea beginning to rise in his stomach. Whether it was from the slightly disorienting distance from Potter, or from what his father was saying, didn't matter. He forced himself to focus on Father's words.

"This is precisely what the other side suspects, and why they mistrust me, with good reason. I am, of course, donating to the appropriate causes and people. We are eager to show that your bond to their hero is successful and almost certainly permanent. Anything that can get us into positions of power in the social structure of the other side, whether we are able to go back to the Dark Lord or not." He paused and stirred his tea.

"We are also still searching for whoever cast the bond. Because even after the bond dies down and you are able to go your separate ways, you will still be very vulnerable if Potter is hurt in any way, for a long time. I don't know how long you'll have before Potter is hurt - as I said, plans were in place for events to come to a head this year, now."

"But the Aurors tried to find-"

"Aurors have certain limits placed on their methods."

Draco nodded. Of course: no unauthorized Legilimency or pensieving, no torture followed by Obliviating, nothing 'unethical.' "Have you made any progress?"

Father hesitated. "Not... as much as we would have liked, although we have been able to discount a few likely suspects. We are currently concentrating on people with connections to students at Hogwarts, mostly but not exclusively in Slytherin house. We've found nothing on your friends Pansy or Blaise - not that I was expecting anything, since they underwent Veritaserum questioning the night of the healing circle. However, outwitting Veritaserum is not impossible, especially if you are on your guard, as we all were that night. If we come up with nothing on anybody else I may ask you to question them yourself. They will not be on their guard with you."

Draco recoiled from the thought, but nodded obediently nonetheless.

"We are also considering the possibility that the caster may have been a member of the Order of the Phoenix, disgruntled by Potter's star status. Perhaps hoping to kill off Potter and weaken our side at the same time."

Draco frowned sceptically. "That doesn't sound terribly likely."

"It isn't. But I want you to rest assured that I am leaving no stone unturned."

"Thank you, Father."

"Is that a genuine thank you, Draco?" Father asked casually, sipping his tea.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you still want this bond dissolved?"

Draco's stomach lurched again. His father's tone was so very calm and offhanded, as though he were discussing the prospects for the Quidditch Cup.

"Of course," he said, trying to sound puzzled by the question.

"Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Draco said, turning Father's question around on him. His father's eyes held a hint of approval for his evasiveness before going back to cool casualness.

"You certainly don't act as though this relationship is an onerous burden, Draco."

"We're no longer actively fighting the bond; that doesn't mean I don't want to get rid of it."

"Really."

"Yes."

"Do remember that I saw some of your memories, Draco," Father reminded him coolly, and Draco cringed inwardly.

"You saw that our physical relationship is intense," he forced his tone to remain matter-of-fact. "And you know that's entirely due to the bond spell. There's nothing more to it than that, Father." He was feeling more and more nauseated by the moment.

Father inclined his head, conceding the point. "In a way, I am pleased; there are people watching you both here, and their reports are good. You are getting along, which certainly helps to make our position more believable, a little more likely to get us information that may prove useful in the long run. I do expect you to gather what you can as well, of course."

"Of course."

"By the way, I have arranged for a reporter with discreet ties to us to speak with you on Monday."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Prophet would like to interview you."

"About..."

"About the bond, Draco," Father said, impatient as always with his slowness. "Potter, and how you get on with him. You needn't to overdo it and pretend you've fallen in love with him; merely explain that you have settled into the bond, that there were a few problems but you've overcome them, and that will be enough. She will know what she can and cannot ask or write about." He handed Draco a piece of parchment. "Make sure you read this over before meeting with her. And if they wish to take photographs, do at least try to look presentable." Father's glance took in his windblown hair and somewhat grubby clothing, damp and wrinkled from his recent Seeker's Game, and Draco blushed.

"Father, if... if we're making it look as though we're so committed to this bond, how will it look if you find the caster and remove it?"

His father shrugged, unconcerned. "No matter how well the bond turns out, I doubt very many people would expect the previously heterosexual seventeen-year-old son of a pure-blooded family to stay with anybody he and his family hadn't chosen. Never mind a half-blood boy, even if he is the great Harry Potter." Father sipped his tea. "And of course there is also that medical report."

"Medical report?"

"The... injuries you sustained at his hands. During your suspension."

"What?"

"Draco," Father murmured as a few people turned around to look at them. "Kindly remember where you are."

Draco swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Father... that, that wasn't-"

"I am well aware of what it was and what it wasn't, Draco. But it is a recorded fact that at one point the school nurse was worried about your physical safety. It is also a fact that Potter is somewhat unstable. Even without that medical report, there were literally hundreds of witnesses to the incident in the Great Hall. We will of course be using both incidents, and any others that crop up, in the event that we are able to dissolve the bond." He took another sip of his tea. "I am rather curious, though, as to why you did not see fit to mention it to your mother or me."

Draco was pinned by that cool gaze as his thoughts raced. Father had obtained his medical records - how could he have assumed Father wouldn't? And how could he have thought, even for a moment, of doing as Potter asked and confiding in Pomfrey after that incident? Of letting her know that the only reason Potter had become 'violent' was that Draco had goaded him into it, because he'd needed to, because he'd been unable to accept his growing feelings for Potter and had to replace them with something familiar and safe, like their long-time hatred?

Father let the silence grow, letting him see that, as always, he had the upper hand and there was nothing Draco could do about it. Father knew how he was feeling, he had spies everywhere, he could get at Draco's medical records, he could do bloody well anything.

"It-it didn't seem that important," Draco finally said, going for a dismissive tone and inwardly wincing at how nervous he sounded. Lucius looked over his shoulder and ended the scrambling spell.

"Mal- er, Draco?" a soft voice behind him said, and the easing of his nausea and dizziness let him know who it was even before he felt Potter's hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry - can you stop for a bit?"

Draco turned around, registering the slightly pale cast to Potter's face and covering Potter's hand with his own.

"Sorry, I'll go back to my books in a minute," Potter said, his voice subdued, "I just-"

"No, that's quite all right," Father said politely. "I shouldn't have pushed your bond that far so soon. We were almost done anyway. Draco, was there anything else you wished to bring up?"

Other than my lunch? Draco swiftly suppressed the thought and schooled his features into respectful deference. "No, Father."

"Then I shall take my leave of you both. Please, do go on with your agenda for the day." Father stood.

"Goodbye, Father."

"Goodbye, Draco. Don't forget to read what I gave you." And Father was gone without a backwards glance.

"All right, what was that?" Potter asked, sitting down, his colour back to normal.

Draco shook his head. "Later. Let's change and go to Hogsmeade."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine. You?"

"Fine."

"You didn't really need to come over, you know. I wasn't feeling that bad." He narrowed his eyes. "And neither were you."

"It wasn't just the bond that was making us both feel sick," Potter said evenly.

Draco looked away. "Come on. Let's go to Hogsmeade," he said hollowly, and they rose together and left the Great Hall.