Bond

Chapter 15

January 21 - January 23

Day 115, Thursday (continued)

"What?! Who-"

"I don't know, I'd never heard of him, but somehow Father found him. He's been arrested and taken to the Ministry for interrogation, but tomorrow he'll be here. He's going to take off the curse." Malfoy swallowed hard. "We... we're going to be free."

Harry gaped at him. "T-tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

They stared at each other, and Harry distantly thought that he couldn't have described what either of them was feeling right now if his life depended on it.

"That's... incredible," he said numbly.

"Yeah." Malfoy looked down, and Harry realized he was trembling, his nerves razor-sharp. They both were. He touched Malfoy's shoulder, not sure why - to question or celebrate or comfort or be comforted or what - but decided it didn't really matter as Malfoy moved into his embrace unhesitatingly, holding him close for a long moment, then pulled back a little, smiled slightly. "You look like I felt about five minutes ago," he said a little unsteadily.

Harry gulped. "So... what happened?"

"That's all I know. Except his name is Parnassus McKay, which doesn't mean anything to me. I don't recognize him as a Death Eater, but then, I don't know all of them-" Malfoy abruptly closed his mouth, his body stiffening slightly, sudden alarm flashing through him. Harry drew in his breath sharply.

"No, don't - don't block me out yet-" he said quickly, his heart sinking.

Malfoy gave him a sharp look but took a deep breath and deliberately relaxed himself, resting his forehead against Harry's, and they lapsed into silence again.

Free, thought Harry, still more than a little stunned. No more bond. No more forced proximity, no more spending time with Slytherins, no more distance from his own friends and house, no more awkward silences whenever politics came up. No more nagging fear of being hurt if anything happened to Malfoy, no more trying to make something work that had so much stacked against it...

Free to go where he wanted. Free to play Quidditch, spend time with his own friends, think of becoming an Auror, get a flat with Ron without worrying about what Malfoy would think of it. Free to be single and seventeen years old again.

Free.

"What do we do now?" Harry said quietly when he could think semi-clearly again.

"I don't know," Malfoy replied just as quietly. "I suppose we go back in there, explain what's happened. You all right to go back?"

Harry nodded numbly.

"And then... then after that I suppose... I suppose we ought to get ready, or something - I'm not sure how, frankly, but..."

Harry shook his head, mind still reeling as they walked back into the Great Hall.

"What is it?" Parkinson asked as they came back to the study group. "What was the message from your father?"

They looked at each other uncertainly, then back at the group.

"Harry?" Hermione said worriedly. "What's wrong?"

Malfoy exchanged a small smile with Harry, then cleared his throat. "Oh, nothing's wrong. My father caught the caster of the curse, that's all."

"What?!!" cried out several voices at once, and Harry had to smile at their flabbergasted expressions. He and Malfoy shared an amused glance and sat back down, realizing the study session was probably not going to happen after all.

ooooooo

"What was the counter-spell to that sticking charm again?" Harry asked that night.

"Parietibus Dehaerent," Malfoy said absently, and Harry nodded and repeated the words, unsticking his Montrose Magpies poster from the bedroom wall. He rolled it up, looking around the room, still trying to decide what was more disorienting: this, or what had happened back in September. It had to be the bond itself, as that had been completely unexpected, but for some reason he felt even more off-balance now than he had then.

"You missed a player," Malfoy said, flicking his wand at his own Winbourne Wasps and sticking them to their poster before he rolled it up and tucked it into his trunk, beside his Slytherin crest and his small photograph of the shrine of the Oracle of Delphi at sunset. He absently waved his wand to get rid of his bottle of butterbeer, left over from the party they'd finally left only twenty minutes ago.

Their friends had been jubilant. Amid laughter and celebration they'd decided to hold an impromptu "divorce party," which Zabini had declared should be held in the Room of Requirement because it wasn't really right to hold it in one house or the other.

"Brilliant, mate," Ron had said enthusiastically. "They didn't get the traditional wedding thing, you know, where there's separate parties before they get married and then the big one at the wedding, so let's do it backwards. We'll have a pre-divorce party tonight, with both of them, and then two separate ones tomorrow!"

It had been a good idea. And they'd had fun. Though there was nothing stronger to drink than butterbeer, everyone had gotten a little silly, and there had been some funny stories about the stupid things they'd done in the last few months, the troubles caused by their forced proximity taking on a humorous cast now that that proximity was about to be gone. Parkinson and Ron in particular had relished telling the story of seeing them drunk during their suspension, and Harry had to admire how Parkinson had been able to neatly sidestep the whole issue of why she hadn't charged Malfoy with being drunk at the time.

It had been a good party. A nice time. Gryffindors and Slytherins, and quite a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, all laughing together and caught up in the celebratory mood. Happy for their sakes, that their forced time together was coming to an end.

"Do you want to clear the closet first, or should I?" Harry asked, stacking away his books.

"You go first." Malfoy sat down, staring out the window.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked as he folded his shirts into his trunk.

"About McKay. What it'll be like meeting him." He frowned pensively. "It's really disturbing that I don't know anything about him. I don't even know if he's connected to any of our classmates. I mean I've nearly driven myself round the twist these last few months, trying to figure out who and how... I thought if he was ever found, I'd be able to say Oh now that makes sense, how could I not have suspected - but I can't."

"No."

"It's a little... I mean... it just feels so random. Like the next threat could come from anywhere."

"Welcome to my life," Harry said absently, peering at a stain on one of his shirts. "If your father found him, though, he's probably what they thought, a Death Eater."

"Maybe."

"I wonder how your father caught him."

"I don't," Malfoy said shortly.

Harry paused his packing, hesitating for a moment before asking, "Are you wondering what's going to happen now with your father?"

Malfoy tensed a bit. "Of course."

"What do you want to have happen?"

Malfoy regarded him seriously. "Do you want a fight over this?"

"Not really, no." Harry drew a deep breath. "What do you think will happen?"

Malfoy shrugged, looking away from him.

"I can't see everything going back to how it was before." Harry realized as he spoke that he wasn't just talking about Lucius. And judging from Malfoy's quick indrawn breath, so did he.

Malfoy still didn't look at him.

"Can you?"

"Why not?" Malfoy said quietly.

"You saw what I saw tonight, didn't you? Gryffindors and Slytherins at a party, together, getting along?"

"I saw that, yeah. And Slytherins talking amongst themselves. Tomorrow it'll be two separate parties. I'd say soon everything will go back to the way it was before."

Harry frowned. "It doesn't have to. There've been friendships made in the last while, like Ron and Blaise. And Dean and Tracey Davis are almost going out. And even before that, Lavender and Blaise were sort of going out a while ago-"

"Lavender and Blaise didn't work, you know that. Thomas and Tracey won't either." He shook his head, still staring out the window. "Gryffindor-Slytherin doesn't work, Harry," he said, his voice low.

"It can. It has."

"For us?" Malfoy shook his head slowly. "We spent six years hating each other. That kind of thing doesn't disappear in just four months."

"Read the Prophet some time," Harry said bitterly. "Your father seems to think it does. At least, that's what he's been telling everybody. He supported the people who killed my parents and my godfather - tried to kill me himself a few times, and I damn near killed him, and put him into Azkaban - and yet to hear him talk, it's all water under the bridge."

"And if you honestly believe that, you're more gullible than-"

"No I don't honestly believe it!" Harry snapped. "Not from him! But from you-"

"Why should I be any different?"

"You can't lie to your spouse under a new bond, Draco. You told me that."

"And the bond's not that new any more, Harry." Malfoy stood up, his anger beginning to simmer under the surface. "D'you remember anything about the healing circle? Do you remember how much hate was there? That whole thing nearly went balls-up because even the people who cared about us the most almost let their hatred kill us."

"Almost. Do you remember why we survived? And how? Hermione and your mother, and Pansy and Neville, and Ron and your father - they all hate each other, but they put that aside and pulled us back together. And Pansy and Snape and Ron - they all had good memories to shove at us, to show us that we didn't have to keep hating each other, just because we always had."

Malfoy looked away again.

"Our... friendship is real. Blaise and Ron's friendship - it's not just going to disappear."

"Blaise's family's not committed to the Dark Lord. They could commit at any moment. And if they do-"

"Draco... Neville's family could decide to commit to Voldemort. That doesn't mean they will. Or that he'd follow them if they did."

Silence.

Harry swallowed hard. "After everything we've been through together... why do you want to go back to the way we were?"

"What other choice do we have? We're not on the same side."

"We don't have to be on opposite sides, either."

"I don't believe what you believe."

"I don't care!" Harry said, frustrated.

"I do!"

"There's more to us than our political positions!"

"Yeah, there's a bond!" Malfoy said angrily. "And as of tomorrow, there won't be!"

"And that's all there is?"

"Yes!"

"Lie to yourself if you want to, not to me!"

"Go to hell!" Malfoy started to walk away.

"Draco!" Harry grabbed his arm and Malfoy pulled away.

"Fuck, don't do this to me, don't-" he said, his voice tense.

"I'm not letting it end like this," Harry said angrily.

"Fine, then let's go back to the party, just tell them to split the festivities early-"

"Fuck the party, I don't want-"

"And, and I don't want-" Malfoy turned away and Harry suddenly realized he was on a very thin edge, holding himself together through sheer force of will.

He stepped back. "I - I'm sorry." He dropped his hand. "Go, if you want to. But..." he swallowed hard. "This is the last night that..." he trailed off. "It doesn't have to be like this."

Malfoy stood, staring at the floor, and Harry could sense about a dozen conflicting impulses warring for supremacy in him, before he suddenly turned back to Harry and took him into his arms.

"Fuck, I'm sorry-" he murmured into Harry's neck.

"No, I-"

"Shut up." He covered Harry's mouth with his own and Harry responded eagerly to the one thing between them that didn't require any effort, the one thing that could always bring them back from whatever edge they teetered on.

"Oh, god yes," he whispered as Malfoy pulled him towards their bed and drew him down to it and on top of him, their fingers already busy with buttons and zips.

"Merlin, yes," Malfoy breathed against his hair, hastily tugging Harry's clothing open.

"D'you-"

"Hurry up-" Malfoy pushed himself up, removing the last of his clothing, rolled over and trapped Harry under him, reaching for the small bottle of oil and handing it to Harry and latching onto Harry's mouth, gasping as the oil touched his skin, enthusiastically helping Harry and urging him on. "No, I'm ready, I want you-" and Harry groaned as Malfoy eased him in quickly, and he bit back a curse as his eyes closed and he dug his head back into the pillow. He opened them again to see Malfoy drop his head back and move sensuously, and he bit his lip. God, Malfoy was so amazing when he did this. Harry almost felt like he could come just from watching Malfoy moving over him, never mind the physical sensations it produced.

Although those were bloody brilliant too. He pushed up, grabbing onto the headboard, eyes closing again, hearing their gasping cries - it felt like poetry when Malfoy rode him like this, it felt like heaven on earth, so damn perfect, and then he sat up and pulled Malfoy close, their lips coming together as their movements became more urgent.

And then there they were. Holding each other tightly, gasping into each other's mouths. Eyes squeezed shut, almost melting into one another, so in tune with one another. So fucking perfect.

And it was going to be over as of tomorrow.

They held each other tightly, their breath evening out slowly, and finally Malfoy took a deep breath and carefully got off of him and they lay back down together, Harry absently running his fingers through Malfoy's hair and Malfoy slowly tracing small patterns onto Harry's chest, each lost in his thoughts. Trying very hard to not think about the fact that this would be the last time they did this together.

There were many things to look forward to, about ending the bond, Harry told himself. Not trying futilely to maintain his study area neat so as not to annoy Malfoy; not refereeing between Malfoy and Ron, who still occasionally butted heads; not having to deal with Slytherins and their charming power plays; not missing his friends...

He was distracted from his thoughts by a soft sigh from Malfoy.

"What?"

Malfoy shook his head slightly. "You know... not that I'm not glad the bond's going to be gone, but... it's going to be weird, not shagging regularly any more."

Harry smiled. "Yeah. That part's not so bad."

"Don't you feel like a bit of a twit now, for keeping us both waiting for it for over a month?"

Harry chuckled. "A bit, yeah."

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Next time you're involved with someone, do try to skip the whole shrinking violet phase and hurry on to the good part, would you?"

Harry swallowed hard, firmly making himself ignore the contradiction between Malfoy's casual tone and his turbulent emotions. "I'll try, yeah."

"It's funny," Malfoy mused. "I knew we'd eventually be able to date other people... just didn't expect it to be so soon. I mean, I thought we'd be able to in maybe a month or so, but I wasn't going to, not till after we left school. And not just because my father would've swallowed his tongue if anything like that came out in the Prophet."

Harry smiled at the mental image.

"Ginny Weasley's had a thing for you for years, hasn't she?"

Harry chuckled. "Are you asking if I'm going to try to sleep with her, now that it won't be - what did you call it, disgracefully unfaithful?"

Malfoy laughed. "God her face when I said that, remember? Like she'd swallowed a Skrewt blast-side up."

"It was pretty tactless."

"Because she's been pining after you forever?"

"Ginny hasn't pined since first year, I don't think."

"Pansy swears she just thinks of you while she's with... well, everybody else. Busy girl, from what I've heard."

"Any time you feel like living dangerously, go ahead and repeat that where Ron can hear you."

Malfoy snickered. "Would you sleep with her though, if she wanted to?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. She's Ron's sister. I don't think it'd work out in the long run."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You know, you're not actually supposed to be settling down for life at our age. It's ridiculous, being a married seventeen-year-old."

"Is it any more ridiculous than being a divorced seventeen-year-old?"

Malfoy winced. "Good point. Well anyway, I don't intend to go into withdrawal. I'll probably see if I can convince Pansy to... indulge me."

Harry snickered, firmly hushing up the part of his brain that bristled at the thought, hoping Malfoy wasn't paying too close attention to his emotions. Of course he felt a stab of jealousy right now, but that would go away with the ending of the bond. He hoped. "You don't have to worry about finding anybody permanent anyway. Your parents'll be doing that now, right?"

"Oh. Yeah," Malfoy said, and brightened a little. "Yeah, we'll both be able to get what we want. I'll get the political alliance and you'll get the whole Muggle thing with the flowers and hearts and kids and so forth. Should be pretty easy for both of us, too," he chuckled. "If we could make marriage work with each other, we should be able to make it work with anybody."

Harry smiled, despite the bizarreness of the conversation.

"You might even get to have sex with a girl some day, too."

"Is it very different?"

Malfoy snickered. "Well from where I'm sitting - a little sore, by the way - yeah, just a bit." He thought for a moment. "Other than that, though... yeah. They're... I don't know, softer. Touchier, too. Everything takes a lot longer. Which is not necessarily a bad thing."

"No, not always." Harry yawned as Malfoy's fingers combed through his hair, absently untangling one particularly long knot.

"It's... it's probably going to be weird, at first, though," Malfoy said, and Harry could feel the hesitancy in his voice.

"Yeah."

Malfoy seemed to be on the verge of saying something - and then he sighed and shrugged. "Just have to get used to it, though, and it'll be all right."

Harry held him closer. No, it's not going to be all right, he suddenly wanted to say. He pushed that thought away and concentrated instead on the pleasantness of their embrace. Might as well; this was the last time he'd feel it.

Malfoy was stroking his cheek, his touch gentle and so very familiar now. What would it be like, to not feel that any more? To go to sleep alone? He took Malfoy's hand and laced their fingers together, nuzzling into Malfoy's neck and breathing in deeply. Chuckled as he felt Malfoy starting to get aroused again.

"You're joking," he said.

Malfoy smiled, a little embarrassed, then shrugged. "Might as well," he said. "You know, last chance and all." Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to think about how Malfoy's voice would probably sound casual and off-handed to anyone who couldn't feel his inner turmoil right now. As Harry wouldn't be able to, as of tomorrow.

"Might as well," Harry said, returning the smile and kissing him, and Malfoy started to move down his neck to his chest, slowly going lower. "Draco..." he whispered, closing his eyes to concentrate on Malfoy's lips and tongue working their way down his chest and stomach. "Can you... do you want to top?"

Malfoy froze, hovering over his stomach, and there was a long silence.

"You're joking."

"No."

Malfoy made a sound in his throat and moved back up, gathering Harry in his arms and burying his face in Harry's hair.

"What?" Harry said nervously.

"Just... you... you idiot," he said, his voice muffled. "It's the last night we'll - and you..." He shook his head slowly. "Just... god, fuck you, Harry," he said hollowly.

"That is the general idea," Harry said a little unsteadily, and Malfoy smiled slightly. "Do you not want to?"

"I want to. Just... why now?"

"I... I thought we'd have more time. I wanted to, before, but..."

Malfoy nodded, cleared his throat. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

Malfoy gazed at him and Harry reflected that, before their bond, he would've sworn the only emotions Malfoy could feel were contempt, malicious humour, and cowardly fear. But he'd seen so many more sides to him since their bond. Seen him nervous, thoughtful, aroused, amused, tired, affectionate, joyful... and tender and serious, like he was right now. There was so much more to Malfoy than he'd ever suspected, even after seeing him almost every day for six years.

Harry sighed and lay back, letting Malfoy lead, arousal slowly growing as they touched. So familiar, all of this. So many times they'd done this, learned what each liked. He knew the exact spot at the side of his neck that always got Malfoy squirming. The rough strokes that brought him to the edge quickly. The noise in his throat that meant he was close. And Malfoy knew so much of him; the way to hold him, the way he preferred to be kissed, the way he liked it sometimes when Malfoy held his hands tightly as they moved together, so that he couldn't quite move freely...

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, gesturing at the oil, and Harry nodded, closing his eyes. Malfoy took his mouth in a kiss and Harry lost himself in the sensations, Malfoy's lips warm and smooth on his own, one hand stroking his face while the other touched him with the oil, and he was starting to feel a little dizzy from the two. Lips and tongue and fingers, making him relax bonelessly, making him shiver, wanting so much to feel Malfoy...

He gasped in slight pain, feeling Malfoy's concern and quickly catching Malfoy's mouth with his own as Malfoy pulled back a little. Gasped again as Malfoy's fingers moved inside him.

"God, that does feel good," he murmured, a little surprised, and Malfoy chuckled.

"Did you think I was faking it when you did that?"

"No, but... ohgod." He choked back a groan, the need to come building up more and more rapidly. "That's... bloody hell, why didn't I do this sooner?"

"Don't say that till we're done," Malfoy said. "This is... I'm going to - it's going to hurt, you know that, right?"

"I don't care." He grabbed Malfoy and pulled him in for another kiss. "The only thing that hurts right now is I need to come so fucking bad, and you're certainly taking your time about this," he said, frustrated.

"Patience," Malfoy laughed.

"Screw patience," Harry said, pulled Malfoy on top of him, wrapping his legs around Malfoy's hips. "I don't have all night, here, Draco," he said, and Malfoy snickered.

"Pushy, aren't you?"

"Please, god, just move, please," he whispered, so over-sensitized it was driving him crazy. Malfoy was keeping him on such a fine edge it was almost infuriating, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to speed things along.

"I'm... I don't want to hurt you," Malfoy admitted softly, and kissed him again, his hands and lips drawing Harry's arousal to fever pitch, until he couldn't stop himself from moaning continuously. "Harry... are you sure?"

"Fuck yes, please, I said yes already, please..." he whispered, and part of his mind wondered at how he could feel at once so desperate to finish this and so desperate to hold on to it as long as possible.

Malfoy took a deep breath and moved, and Harry closed his eyes and bit his lip. Malfoy was right, it did hurt, quite a bit, actually. But that didn't really matter, because he and Malfoy were - finally - doing something so intimate that he'd die to think of doing it with anybody else, and all he could think, beyond the quickly receding pain and dizzying arousal, was that he'd been a bloody idiot for not doing it before. And that he could definitely see why Malfoy hadn't minded, at all, not being on top.

So strange, to feel so powerful while essentially powerless. Another person's body in his, another person in control of most of what was going on - and yet he didn't feel used or afraid or resentful or any of what he'd feared to feel. It was like the feeling he always got when he topped, that Malfoy was granting him an incredible privilege, was turned around on him and he could feel the sense of wonder that Malfoy felt at being allowed to do what he was doing. His intense concentration, the care he was taking to make sure Harry enjoyed himself at least as much as Malfoy did.

And the sense of letting go was unbelievable. Something that really wasn't there when he topped, as he was always a bit nervous that he'd accidentally hurt Malfoy. Letting go and letting Malfoy do what he would, feeling Malfoy trembling as he thrust into him, holding Harry close and carrying him and taking care of him.

He tossed his head back, groaning with pleasure as Malfoy laced their fingers together, holding Harry's hands down on either side of them, winding him up even tighter before finally, finally thrusting just that tiniest bit harder... and they cried out together as they came.

ooooooo

Day 116, Friday

Draco checked his desk one last time. Nothing left behind. He opened the drawers of their sitting room cabinet. Nothing there either. Potter was finishing with his dresser, making sure he had all his clothes and none of Draco's.

"Erm... Draco..." Draco turned around. Potter was holding a set of dress robes. "I don't know the etiquette here... I mean, about the Christmas presents. I don't know - d'you want them back, or-"

"I've enough dress robes of my own," Draco said, amused. "Besides, that colour does nothing for me. Why, do you want the distiller back?"

"I wouldn't know what to do with it," Potter pointed out.

"You could use it to distil things, you know."

"No. Keep it, it's yours." Potter turned to put the robes into his trunk. "Do you want to keep this?" he asked, gesturing at a set of Quidditch balls they'd bought so that they wouldn't have to go to the Quidditch hut every time they flew.

"No, you keep them."

"Thanks," said Potter, and locked up his trunk. Draco buttoned up his shirt, glancing around their quarters distractedly.

"Oh, thanks," he said as Harry handed him his tie on his way to the washroom. He put it on, watching as Potter packed his toothbrush and shaving potion and started to brush his hair. He caught Harry's eyes in the mirror over his shoulder and took the hair ribbon from him, tying his hair back. Harry smiled at him in the mirror, put away his brush and left the washroom, and Draco finished his own morning routine and packed his belongings too, hesitating briefly before tossing out the half-empty bottle of patience potion. Hadn't used it since shortly before their final hospitalization, three months ago, he realized. Obviously didn't need it any more.

Perhaps he'd been too quick to toss it, he thought irately as he entered their sitting room and saw that Potter still hadn't quite cleared everything. And he looked like he was searching for one of his textbooks, which, no surprise, was on the bottom of a pile of paper on his desk. He picked up the papers and tossed the book at Potter.

"That's the last time I'm clearing your desk for you," he said, wincing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Potter nodded tightly.

One final check of the rooms. All stripped down. Everything that had made it theirs, their books and clothing and pictures and knickknacks, were all gone, and now it was just an empty set of rooms with two small piles of personal belongings next to the front door. The elves would come in and return their things to their dormitories while they were being unbonded, and that would be that.

They headed for the door. At the last minute, he reached out and stopped Potter, not knowing how to say what he needed to say, but knowing he couldn't just say nothing.

"Harry." Potter looked at him questioningly. Draco cleared his throat. "This... this might get messy. With - with my family, I mean, after we're - after the bond's gone. I don't want it to, but..."

"What do you mean?"

"My father..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"Your father talked to you about what he would do if he found the caster?"

He nodded slowly.

"Will it involve putting anybody in danger?"

"Not really. It just might be... ugly."

"I wouldn't expect any less from your father," Potter said brusquely, and Draco tried to find it in himself to feel offended for his father's sake, but couldn't quite manage it. He looked away, and Potter sighed and touched his shoulder. "Sorry."

Draco swallowed. "If anything happens... it... it won't come from me." He cleared his throat. "Try to remember that, will you?"

"I will," Potter said, his eyes troubled, and gently pushed him out the door.

ooooooo

So this was Parnassus McKay, Draco thought an hour later as they waited for everything to be ready. A rather large group was in Pomfrey's office in the hospital wing: himself and Potter, Father, McGonagall, Pomfrey, a Ministry Record Keeper, a mediwizard from St. Mungo's, and Parnassus McKay, with shining shackles binding him to two strapping Aurors. Apparently the arrangements surrounding today's event had been detailed and exhaustive, to judge from the sheer number of people present, pieces of parchment involved, and formality of the proceedings.

He wished for the tenth time that they hadn't been told to only speak to McKay during the unbonding. Because that meant they couldn't ask the one question they both wanted answered the most: why the hell McKay had done this to them in the first place. Not that they didn't have a pretty good idea, but it would've been nice to get confirmation from McKay himself.

"All right, I think we're just about ready," the Record Keeper said, and motioned over Draco and Potter, flourishing a long scroll with the words "Dissolution of Marriage Bond" written across the top. "We just need you two to write your names here, and sign here, indicating that you agree to dissolve the bond." Draco took the quill, wrote and signed his name, handed it to Potter.

"We had to make up a new parchment for you, you know," the Record Keeper said conversationally as Potter wrote his name. "All of the ones at the Ministry say things like 'Adultery' and 'Irreconcilable Differences' and 'Abandonment' under the cause. We had to make one up to say 'Involuntary Bond'. Our oldest Record Keeper said she'd seen one when she was a girl. I didn't want to ask when that was." Potter finished signing and stepped back.

"Right," said the Record Keeper brightly. "That's it for the paper for now. The rest gets done after the unbonding. Professor McGonagall will be one witness, Madam Pomfrey can be the other," he said, and beckoned over McKay and his two Aurors. "Now, stand facing each other and clasp right hands together," he said, moving so that McKay could stand before them.

Draco looked at McKay curiously as McKay's right hand was released and a wand placed in it, his left hand still shackled to an Auror.

McKay didn't meet their eyes. Looked rather green. Really didn't seem like a Death Eater, either; he looked scared of his own shadow. Though for some reason, Draco got the feeling that he was not a timid person by nature. Just a man who was scared to death of Draco's father, who had been staring at him fixedly the entire time.

Draco glanced at Potter, standing nervously before him.

McKay pointed his wand at their clasped hands and stammered, "L-lux Vinculum," and Draco and Potter looked down. A shimmering band, closely resembling Celtic knotwork, wound around their wrists. Draco tentatively tried to move his hand and found it held fast.

"D-do you wish to end your bond to one another?" McKay asked them.

"Yes," they answered.

"Do you both desire this of your own free will?"

"Yes."

"Then no longer are you one, but two free persons, free of one another and free to let the paths of your lives diverge. Finite Matrimonium."

The band of light flared briefly, then faded and winked away.

McKay seemed to draw in on himself, chewing his lip and darting a nervous glance at Lucius.

"That's... it?" Draco asked.

"That's it," said the Record Keeper cheerfully as the Aurors took McKay's wand away again and re-shackled him.

The Healer came forward. Waved his wand over them, muttering a few spells. "How do you feel?" he asked Draco absently.

"All right."

"How does he feel?" the Healer asked, nodding at Potter.

Draco opened his mouth to speak - and closed it. Blinked. Looked up at Potter, who was staring at him in puzzlement.

Nothing. He couldn't feel anything from Potter. Potter was standing right in front of him, still holding his hand, but Draco felt no emotions other than his own. He swallowed hard. It was like suddenly losing his eyesight.

"Mr. Malfoy?" the Healer prompted him.

"I... I don't know."

"Very good," the Healer smiled. "You just need to let go and the unbonding will be complete."

Potter was blinking rapidly, a faint frown on his face. He seemed as disoriented as Draco, but Draco couldn't be sure. Couldn't feel him at all. They stared at one another, searching each other's faces for some kind of clue as to what the other was feeling. Potter started to let go of his hand, then tightened his grip instead and stepped a little closer to Draco, and Draco did too, stilling the part of him that felt somewhat uncomfortable with doing this in front of Father.

He couldn't not respond. Couldn't go from marriage to nothing, just like that. Potter hesitantly ran his free hand up Draco's shoulder to his cheek, and Draco lifted his hand to Potter's face, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind Potter's ear. Screw Father, who was probably glaring daggers at him.

They held each other's gaze for a moment, then Potter gently let go of him and stepped back.

"The disorientation is normal," the Healer said reassuringly. "Well, not really, since most couples who divorce have been bonded for quite a while and usually have become estranged, so their bond is almost never as deep as yours. But cases of people dissolving new bonds show that it's perfectly normal to feel off-balance for some days following the unbonding." He finished examining Draco and turned to Potter. "Don't worry if you still have feelings for one another; that'll go away too. Think of the need to be together as a habit; you just need to break it, and it'll go away." He put down his wand, indicating he was done examining them.

"Right, well, Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, you just need to sign this-" The Record Keeper stepped aside to allow them to sign the witnessing parts of the record.

"It's good that this was done on a Friday," the Healer added. "You won't be near one another until Monday at least. You may also wish to look over your class schedules, see if you can change any of them. The new term has just started, so there shouldn't be a problem with missing too much of the class material."

"Y-yeah, we talked about it," Draco said, trying to regain his equilibrium. "I'll probably switch back to the Slytherin Charms class."

"That's it?"

"We can't really switch the others. Besides most of them are joint classes anyway."

"He'll be doing Charms while I'm at lunch, then I'll do Charms while he's at lunch," added Potter.

"Do you have any free periods at the same time?"

"Yeah, one - there weren't any other classes to replace it with."

"Don't spend it together," the Healer advised. "At least, not for the first few weeks. It'll just make it harder to detach." He made a note in his records. "Well, that's it for me. You're free to go, medically speaking."

"And the legal part's all done," said the Record Keeper cheerfully. "Welcome back to singlehood, boys."

Draco's father cleared his throat. "Draco, we have much to discuss," he said, and glanced at Potter impatiently, clearly wanting him to move away.

"Potter?" McGonagall said gently. Potter gave her a small smile and shook his head, and left the office. Draco watched him go, suddenly struck by the fact that for the first time in months, he couldn't feel Potter walk away from him.

"Draco. We have much to discuss," his father repeated impatiently, and Draco gulped and nodded his head, forcing himself to look away from the door that had just shut behind Potter.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for your help in apprehending McKay," one of the Aurors said stiffly, and Draco could clearly sense the contempt he felt for his father. Probably knew or suspected that whatever Father had done to catch McKay probably should've landed him right back in Azkaban.

Father inclined his head courteously, contempt for the Auror clear in his gracious smile as well. "You're very welcome," he said formally. "Always glad to be of service." He spared McKay one last glance, and Draco shivered at McKay's instinctive recoil. "Now, if you have no more need of us?" he said politely.

"No, thank you, sir, you're both free to go," the Auror said, and Father led Draco out the door and into a courtyard, setting a scrambling spell around them as soon as they were outside.

Draco drew his robe closer to himself, shivering a little, envying Father his warm, fur-lined cloak.

"Very well, I'm glad that's over," Father said briskly, and impatiently waved his wand over Draco as he registered Draco's shivering. "Calorum. I haven't much time, so do pay attention. I am going to the Dark Lord with news of what's happened, and of McKay."

Draco blinked. "McKay? Was he a-"

"Yes," Father said shortly. "And that is part of the reason why I must see the Dark Lord as soon as possible. I've arranged it so that McKay's surrender to the Aurors will not damage our cause, though it took a great deal of effort to do so." He paused. "I have also been able to find... compensation to offer him," he said carefully. "But I am not sure that it will be enough."

Draco stared at him, his unease from the unbonding forgotten for the moment.

"The Dark Lord is not a forgiving man. I hope that what I have is enough to excuse my actions, but in case it is not, I have left letters with our solicitors with instructions for them - and you and your mother - as to what to do in case I... go missing."

Draco swallowed hard. Oh Mordred.

It had always seemed so exciting, before, when Father went before the Dark Lord, but now he could only feel dread. Father was going into danger and facing god only knew what, and god only knew when or whether he'd return, and Draco had just lost his spouse and he couldn't lose his father as well...

He lowered his eyes, impatiently pushing down the urge to show his dismay - cry, or break down somehow, grab Father and tell him not to go - and then he heard his father clear his throat.

"Draco." Father touched his arm, and Draco looked up, startled. Father never touched him. Nobody touched him, except Harry. "You need not worry. I would not go foolishly into a dangerous situation." He smiled slightly. "I believe everything will be all right; I'm merely warning you of the chance that things might go wrong because you're old enough to not be shielded from unpleasant possibilities."

Draco nodded, swallowing hard, and hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Be careful." He mentally kicked himself - stupid thing to say, really, as though his father wouldn't be careful.

But Father didn't frown disapprovingly at him. Merely nodded and gave him a small smile. "I will be." He pulled his cloak closer to himself. "Now, put all of this out of your mind. Concentrate on your studies. I'm sure this situation will feel unsettling at first, but do as the Healer suggested and you'll be all right. Just concentrate on comporting yourself as befits our family, as you have for the last few months."

Damn it, he thought as Father walked off. Why could he not just enjoy his father's approval, rare as it was? Why did he have to think about the implications of what Father was about to do?

ooooooo

Draco stretched and glanced at the table where a group of sixth years were levitating a bunch of firewhiskey bottles as the party wound down, and decided it was late enough that he could go to bed without anybody teasing him about leaving his own divorce party early. Two parties in two days was a little much, and Draco hadn't felt much like celebrating tonight, no matter what his house mates thought. He just felt tired and wanted to go to bed.

Nice party, all in all, though. Despite his misgivings when he'd walked into the common room after the unbonding and abruptly realized that, with Potter and his Gryffindor friends gone, this party could turn into a good old fashioned Slytherin Potter-bash. Thankfully, there had been none of that. Plenty of dirty jokes about Draco taking advantage of his newly single status; almost no reference to Potter at all.

"Is that your doing?" he'd quietly asked Pansy at one point.

"Not really. Though I may have mentioned that we don't know what's going to happen in the future. Vague enough that nobody could possibly pin it down, but clear enough that they'd find other things to joke about."

"Why?"

"Darling," she'd smirked at him, "let's just say I'm making sure the depths of your debt to me know no bounds."

"It's beginning to make me rather nervous, actually," he'd joked.

"And so it should," she'd said smugly.

He glanced around the common room for her, and found her in a corner facing off against Queenie Greengrass and a few of her sneering, smirking sixth-year cronies. Draco narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out the nature of their furious whispering. Looked like a regular female hair-pulling thing, but considering the alliances of the girls involved...

Queenie really was a bitch, he mused as he watched her digging away at Pansy. Not that Pansy wasn't too, when she was in a mood, but Queenie was just petty and mean for the fun of it. No class or elegance or sense of humour about it, either.

A royal pain in the arse when she was about to get her period, too, as were the girls with her - all part of an illicit Slytherin girls' Moonblood Magic coven, and all due right around now. He sighed. Snape tried so hard to suppress the Moonblood covens that sprang up every year. Not only was it considered Dark Magic, it was also hellish for the rest of them to be caught in the fallout of adolescent girls dealing with their hormones and volatile moon magic affecting them in unpredictable ways.

Hm... they were due, weren't they? And Queenie had been abusing Pansy for long enough, and was rather foolishly wearing white trousers...

"Flumen Mensanguina," he murmured in her direction, and was rewarded by Queenie's suddenly slightly alarmed expression. A quick shake of her head, eyes darting all over the common room, a frantic whispered conference with her cronies, and off she went, her robe wrapped around her waist and her friends huddled around her.

Pansy stared after them, puzzled by the sudden evaporation of their fight. She looked around and caught Draco's smug smile from across the room, came over and sat down next to him, hugging him tightly and not even bothering to ask him how he'd gotten rid of Queenie and company. "I'm so glad you're back," she sighed happily.

"Yeah. Me too." He yawned. "We should go to bed, though."

"Goodness, Draco, you'll have to learn to flirt all over again if that's the best line you can come up with these days," Pansy snickered, and Draco smiled. "Actually, you're right, we do need to sleep. I think I may have stayed up a little too late last night at your pre-divorce party."

"We all need to go to bed," Millicent groaned. "Quidditch tomorrow. Have to be braced for the inevitable fall. Why your father couldn't have found McKay last week..." she sighed grumpily and started off to the girls' dorm, a butterbeer clutched in her hand, weaving only slightly.

"You'll be no earthly good for it tomorrow," Draco said to her disapprovingly.

"I care," she muttered gloomily. "We're doomed anyway. Potter might as well have made Baddock's Scrotalpox permanent. Come on, Pansy," she said, and Pansy gave Draco one last hug and followed her.

"Odd, that it's just you here," said Blaise as they went down the hall to their own room, where Crabbe and Goyle were already snoring. "Is it weird, not being around him?"

Draco shrugged. "A bit. Healer said everything should be back to normal before Monday, though."

"It's going to be so strange, you not sitting with him in class any more."

"I sat apart from him before. I'll just go back to that, that's all."

"Have you talked to your father..."

"No. I don't know anything."

Blaise nodded. Fair enough. "Well, g'night."

"Good night," Draco said, and slid into his bed, which abruptly seemed rather large and cold. He drew up the covers, trying to warm himself, needing... feeling appalled at how much and how deeply he suddenly yearned for another body there. Not necessarily Harry. Just somebody. Somebody to hold, to warm him. To keep him company through the night.

It's a habit, that's all, he told himself. A habit I can break.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, pushing away all thoughts of Harry. Wrapped his arms around himself, shivering slightly, concentrating on peace and serenity and rest.

No good.

Fine, then. He picked up his wand. Dormitas, he whispered, and felt himself sink into sleep.

ooooooo

Day 117, Saturday

Harry kept his eyes on the players as the crowd around him cheered the latest wild dive by the Ravenclaw Chasers. He was not going to look across the pitch to the Slytherin stands. He was not going to try to locate Draco in the sea of green and silver. He was going to keep his eyes on the players and his mind on the game. He was going to think about strategy, training his team, getting pointers from Ravenclaw to use against Hufflepuff in Gryffindor's next match, and getting clues as to how to beat Slytherin when Gryffindor went up against them near the end of the year.

He was going to thank god Draco wasn't playing today, because he really didn't know if he would've been able to stand that. He wouldn't have come at all, if Draco had been playing. In fact, he wasn't too sure it he should have come to this game either.

No, that was silly. Of course he had to come. It was Quidditch, and his life was going back to normal, and "normal" included attending Quidditch games.

"Normal" just required him to break a few habits - namely constantly having Draco by his side and in his thoughts. Habits could be broken. For example, though he'd acquired the habit of never touching anybody and felt hellishly uncomfortable right now in the middle of the crowd, he was forcing himself to get used to it and it wasn't that bad. Hermione was helping him, greeting him with a warm hug when he came back from the unbonding, putting a hand on his shoulder every so often, gently pushing him out the common room door this morning. And though he cringed at it inwardly, he was quickly learning to not do it outwardly.

People could get used to anything. He'd gotten used to being married; he would bloody well get used to being single. Divorced. Whatever he was now.

Another Quaffle in for Slytherin, and the Slytherin stands cheered as the Ravenclaws groaned in frustration. Slytherin was doing pretty well, at 50-10. The Ravenclaw Keeper was really going to sink his entire team if they didn't replace him. Which they probably wouldn't; replacing a player in mid-year for anything other than suspension or serious injury just wasn't that common, except on the Slytherin team.

Once again Harry wondered what it would be like when Draco played Seeker for Slytherin's final match against Gryffindor. Turned his thoughts away, because he was not supposed to be thinking of Draco.

It was all right, though, the fact that he still was thinking of him. That he still felt pretty much the same as before the unbonding, except for not being able to sense Draco's thoughts and feelings. It would've been bizarre to not think of him. To not miss him last night, not wake up this morning feeling totally bereft. They'd shared a bed for almost four months; four months of waking up with a warm presence by his side, Draco's head on his shoulder, their legs intertwined, Draco's arm around his waist. Draco's scent was still on the bedclothes in Harry's bed in Gryffindor. Of course he'd woken up disoriented and frustrated, going from a vivid dream and morning arousal to an empty bed with nobody to help him deal with it. What he was feeling was perfectly natural, and would go away in time.

Ginny gasped and grabbed his arm as the Ravenclaws executed yet another insane manoeuvre, and he winced as they almost crashed into the stands. Got the Quaffle in, though, of course. Bloody hell, he was gaining new respect for Ron for not having completely collapsed in a gibbering wreck when he was up against them in the second game of the year.

"Ten more points to Ravenclaw!" Smith's voice crowed over the crowd as the Ravenclaws cheered and the Slytherins muttered in discontent. "And Ravenclaw - oh!" Smith couldn't follow the action fast enough as a Ravenclaw Chaser was accidentally bumped right off her broom by a teammate, who instantly swerved down and caught her on his own broom, chased down hers, flicked her onto it and zoomed off without missing a beat.

"A Travers Save!!" Smith shouted as the crowd let out its collectively held breath and cheered wildly. "Beautifully executed - apparently somebody was taking lessons from Potter and Malfoy, and a good thing too, considering the risky way Ravenclaw's Chasers are flying this year - and Slytherin Beater Bulstrode-"

Harry lost the thread of Smith's commentary as his eyes went unerringly to the blond head on the other side of the pitch, and he and Draco grinned at each other briefly before both deliberately turned away.

They had perfected that move, the two of them, though the first time they'd done it had been an accident; Draco had accidentally knocked Harry off his broom and then swooped down so quickly Harry had hardly registered he was falling before he was on Draco's broom, and they'd flown crazily down, catching up with Harry's broom. Harry had leaped onto it without letting himself think about how insane it was to jump from one broom to another. And then they realized they'd just done a Travers Save.

They had to stop for a few minutes, though, a bit shaky from the realization that they'd very narrowly escaped death, because if Harry had been seriously hurt the shock probably would've killed Draco, and then Harry would've died too.

And yet once they steadied a bit, they realized that the whole thing had also been a lot of fun, and they stopped their Seeker's Game in order to practice the move on purpose, in case they ever needed to do it again. Which, the way their games went, they'd almost be sure to do.

They had done it again. Many times. In the middle of Seeker's Games, during practice drills, or just for fun. Smoothly and beautifully, and perfectly matched.

And they never would again.

It's just a habit, being with him, Harry told himself. A habit I can break. Like not wanting anybody to touch me and missing him and not wanting to sleep alone. I'll get used to it and then I won't think about it any more.

He made himself cheer with the rest of the Gryffindors as Ravenclaw's Seeker caught the Snitch.