Bond

Chapter 16

January 25 - February 4

Day 119, Monday

"... up once in a while," Pansy was saying through her teeth when Draco finally registered that she was talking to him.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said that you look like a wet day in a cemetery. Do try to look up once in a while."

"Oh." He shook his head, bringing himself into the here and now. He had plenty of time to think when he was alone; right now he needed to be alert and awake. Especially since he knew people were watching him. First day back to class after major life change and all that. Again.

Always Potions, Draco mused. The first class after being bonded, first class after their suspension. And now the first class after unbonding. Always, Potions was the class where they first had to face new circumstances, with Snape's sharp eyes evaluating them, his sharp tongue taking a strip out of Harry whenever he was vulnerable in any way. It was probably too much to hope that Snape might not do that today of all days.

"We don't have that cheering potion assignment due yet, do we?" he asked Pansy, grasping for something to bring himself out of his internal musings.

"No, that's for tomorrow. You have started it, though, right?"

"Oh, yeah, it's almost done. I just haven't figured out the common fix for the giggling side effect."

"Bat wings," Pansy said as they walked into class and she strode to the front of the class, clearly expecting him to follow. She sat and gestured him to take the seat next to her as the other Slytherins took their places. The ones they'd had at the beginning of the year, that is. Not the places they'd been sitting in the last few months.

Back to each House being a self-contained unit, more or less. Despite the fact that the political situation within Slytherin was if anything even more uncertain and turbulent than before, all the members of his house were sitting in a block: the ones who'd grown closer to the Gryffindors sitting with Draco out of loyalty to him, and the ones who'd drawn away from him sitting where they'd been the whole year.

It was a good thing they were early. Harry normally sat at the back of the class. This way Draco didn't have to see him come in, or look at him during class and try to not think about him.

"D'you have extra ink?" he asked Blaise, annoyed at himself that he'd been too busy searching for his tie this morning to remember to check his inkwell. He tensed slightly as he heard people enter the room and a small murmur went around the class. No doubt Harry and his friends had just walked in. Draco busied himself looking for his extra quill. The Healer had said to avoid one another as much as possible, and he was bloody well going to, no matter how much four months of habit told him to at least turn around and say hello.

"Open your books to page 432," Snape said as he entered the classroom, and a rustle of pages followed, muting the curious murmurs. At least that was one good thing about Potions; there wasn't really much time for anybody to see either of them doing much more than just trying to keep up with Snape's lectures or their practical assignments.

Especially when the practical part of the class involved an assignment as nigh-impossible as this one, Draco thought a while later as they moved to their cauldrons. He set up his distiller, pitying the poor sods who had to distil venom by hand, and glanced at the Sunday copy of the Prophet that Pansy had brought to class while he waited for the distiller to do its job.

Boy Who Lived Single Again

Yes, it's true. The Prophet has confirmed the rumours that the unwilling marriage of Harry Potter to his nemesis Draco Malfoy is finally over, after four stormy months. Through methods unknown, Lucius Malfoy, convicted Death Eater and father-in-law of Harry Potter, was able to track down the man responsible for casting the marriage curse on his son and Mr. Potter. Sources close to the Malfoy family claim the caster was a Death Eater as well, and has been turned over to the Ministry of Magic.

News of the high-profile divorce was the top story on the WWN on Saturday, as school friends told their parents and the students at Hogwarts celebrated. Sources close to the pair say that the unbonding was carried out with a minimum of fuss, and that both boys are relieved to be free of their bond.

"I'm so happy for him. He was far too young for this, really," said Mrs. Elora Dingham, of Dundee, parent of close Potter friend Clarence Dingham.

"Depending on whether you are able to follow the steps competently or not, your potion will exude one of two distinct odours," Snape said. "If your potion smells like seawater and smoke you will test its potency by administering it to your testing animal. If your potion smells like rotting pig manure, you will test its potency and effect by administering it to yourself."

Draco quickly glanced at his potion, cheerfully burbling away in the exact manner it was supposed to. Spared Pansy's potion a glance; same. Smart girl. He went back to his paper.

"Nobody should have to be tied down to a git like Malfoy," said one Hogwarts student on condition of anonymity.

"I tend to sympathise more with Draco," said another student. "Potter's a bit of a twit, really."

"I really thought they had something there," another Hogwarts parent, Mr. Elisha Bois, told reporters. "Didn't the Malfoy lad say they were happy together? Couldn't have been that happy, if they went and split the moment they could."

"Can't really blame Harry, though," said his wife Ellen. "Who'd want to stay connected to that family?"

And what of his ex? Draco Malfoy, who was gracious enough to finally permit an interview in December, could not be reached for comment.

Draco scowled in annoyance. He could not be reached because the Prophet didn't bloody well bother to try, though he doubted he would've given them any statement other than "piss off."

Solicitor David Glynstook gave the following statement to the press on behalf of his client Lucius Malfoy: "My son has acquitted himself well with the stress of this forced bonding, but it's understandable that he would be pleased to end the curse. He had hoped to find a suitable match, raise a family of his own. Of course we have nothing but respect for Mr. Potter and hope their friendship will continue, but I don't think it's difficult to understand that Draco would want to end the curse when given the opportunity to do so."

Lucius Malfoy could not be reached for further comment on his son's unbonding.

Draco sighed, trying not to worry about Father. "Could not be reached" - did that mean the same thing it did for Draco? Or did it mean that they genuinely had not been able to find him in time for yesterday's edition? And if so... where had he gone? Had he come back yet?

And if he hadn't... how long would they have to wait before being able to tell that something was wrong?

And what the hell was this about "hoping their friendship will continue"? Draco had been under the distinct impression that Father would really rather eat his own liver than maintain any kind of connection to Harry any longer than absolutely necessary.

Draco glanced over quickly at Harry, who was watching his own potion dripping into a vial. Not more than a glance, seeing as how people were probably watching them for any hint of... well, anything, really, to run to the Prophet with. A glance only long enough to register that yes, Harry had indeed come to class. That he looked tired and subdued. Much like Draco felt, actually. The difference being that there was no way Draco was going to allow himself to look how he felt, or let anybody think for one moment that there was anything wrong with him.

And it was probably not a good idea to think about how dejected he'd felt this morning, his third one waking up to an empty bed paired with the remnants of a rather lurid dream about Harry. This whole divorce business was harder than he'd thought it would be - literally.

Stupid bond, still tugging at him. It would get better, he reassured himself; he just had to be strong.

Though he probably hadn't helped himself any by taking care of this morning's arousal with Harry's image in his mind, thinking of the first time they'd gone down on each other. He might have to come up with more suitable wanking fantasies, if he was going to get over the bond quickly and efficiently.

It was a brilliant memory, though. One of the nicer things that had happened over the Christmas break. He'd probably never forget Harry's face the first time Draco took him into his mouth, on the assumption that at least as Draco had had it done to him, he might be better able to figure out what to do. Harry's shock and excitement at the entirely new sensations had almost overwhelmed Draco, the thrill Harry was feeling more than making up for Draco's discomfort and hesitancy over doing something he'd never done before. Skill didn't count for much, Draco figured, when receiving one's first blow job. Pansy's lack of experience certainly hadn't disturbed him in the least a couple of years ago. And, as it turned out, neither did Harry's, when it was his turn to reciprocate.

Harry had turned out to be quite talented in that particular field. After a while, the mere possibility of an imminent blow job had been enough to make Draco dizzy, and the experience itself turned him into a quivering mess.

Harry looked up from his potion, and Draco flushed as their eyes met. They exchanged a small uneasy smile before both ducked back to their potions.

No contact. Break it off cleanly. It's for the best.

Breaking it off wasn't as easy as that, though, especially when it came to sex. Draco stared at his potion, wondering how on earth he'd managed to forget that the normal state of affairs for most boys his age was terminal frustrated hard-on, with no help in sight except for your own right hand. And the left one, once the right got too tired.

He gazed at Pansy speculatively. Pansy had never been all that difficult to get into bed... and she'd certainly been friendly lately... had distracted him admirably from his worry over his father. Maybe she'd be willing to distract him from other unbonding-related problems...

Maybe not. Their friendship this year had grown closer than that of simple childhood friends and sometime lovers. It didn't seem quite... right any more, to sleep with her and not worry about possible ramifications. Especially as he no longer had an abundance of allies or friends in Slytherin; jeopardizing one of the only steady sources of support he had was probably not wise. He turned back to his potion.

"Draco," Pansy said into his ear, startling him a little despite the fact that he'd been thinking about her. Or maybe because of it. "You're brooding again. Let's go outside after class. The fresh air will do you some good. Stop you from worrying about your father."

Draco swallowed hard. Right. Father.

"Yeah, thanks, I'll try that next class," Blaise was saying to Weasley on their way back into the classroom from the storage room. "And your potion - just make sure you soften the catgut first, that was your problem last time."

"Yeah, thanks, Zabini," Weasley said, heading back to his cauldron.

"Still associating with the blood traitors, Blaise?" Queenie said archly. "I thought it was all due to your Malfoy-toadying. Is there an actual friendship here? With a Weasley?" Weasley's blue eyes narrowed and the room hushed for a moment. Blaise gave Queenie a supremely disinterested glance and went back to his potion.

"You should know better," Queenie said, more quietly. "You know what they're already saying. The ship has turned. Best follow it."

"Fine, you fail Charms, then," Blaise said pleasantly. "I'll be getting help from the only member of our year who managed to make that windchime sound like a flute last class."

"It's all Granger, you know," Queenie said derisively. "You're getting school advice from a Mudblood, through a blood traitor."

"Your point?"

"Won't your family be thrilled."

"I'm sure they will, if I get all my NEWTS. I don't suppose your family would know what to do with you if you got any."

Draco glanced quickly at Harry. Harry's eyes were level as they held his gaze.

Never mind. Blaise didn't have to worry about breaking it off cleanly, not like he did.

He turned back to his potion.

ooooooo

Day 121, Wednesday

Torrid Love Triangle Knocks Harpies, Magpies Out Of World Cup! screamed the front page of The Prophet. And right below it, in smaller print, Convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy Mysteriously Missing, Sources Say.

Harry automatically glanced at the Slytherin table, where Draco was opening up his own paper. Watched a worried frown form on his face before it was suppressed and replaced with cool nonchalance. Quickly looked away as Draco's eyes met his.

I must remember to sit with my back to the Slytherin table, Harry reminded himself.

He rubbed his forehead, willing away a slight headache, and focussed on the paper before him. Nothing terribly interesting. The Harpies and Magpies hadn't been playing well anyway this year, and Lucius' mysterious absence seemed to consist of him not being available to answer the Prophet's requests for an interview, while his wife and family solicitors claimed that he was simply away on family business. Other than that, it seemed that the only other item of interest right now was still his divorce.

Harry reflected wearily that, while once this would've caused him great annoyance, right now he honestly felt glad of it. Because if the paper was still obsessing over his private life, at least that meant there wasn't anything more newsworthy to talk about. They could write about the divorce for the next few months as far as he was concerned. More power to them.

Ollivander was still missing, as was Florian Fortescue, and it sometimes seemed the wizarding world was holding its collective breath. But as long as nobody else disappeared, they could keep on holding it, as far as Harry was concerned.

Harry frowned thoughtfully at a story buried on the fourth page, between adverts for Sleekeasy's Hair Potions and Kwikspell books:

The Prophet has learned that Parnassus McKay, the individual responsible for the curse that trapped the Boy Who Lived in an unwanted marriage, was a Death Eater of little importance, bent on advancing himself in the ranks of You-Know-Who.

"He wanted to gain favour by simultaneously killing Harry Potter and hurting Lucius Malfoy, convicted Death Eater and one of You-Know-Who's greatest supporters," a Ministry insider explained to the Prophet on condition of anonymity, explaining that Potter and his spouse were supposed to either kill each other or die as a side effect of an unspecified additional curse within the bond. McKay also hoped that whether Potter and his spouse died or not, Lucius Malfoy would lose his exalted position in the ranks of the Death Eaters. There seems no honour among thieves.

Oh, Lucius Malfoy would love that line, Harry smirked to himself.

Draco probably wouldn't, though. Harry's smirk faded.

The Ministry insider explained that some parts of the plot may never be uncovered; before handing over McKay, Lucius Malfoy negotiated a deal with the Ministry that prohibited Veritaserum interrogations of anybody involved.

"It all seems to have rather backfired on McKay," says our source. "Potter and Draco Malfoy didn't die, the plot was uncovered, and it wouldn't surprise me if Lucius Malfoy's come back in favour with You-Know-Who. Too bad for him; nice little plan, when you think of it."

It is unclear how McKay was able to set up the curse within Hogwarts. The Ministry believes that somebody may have helped him, although they admit that he may have entered the school on his own during the flurry of activity that invariably accompanies the beginning of Hogwarts' fall term. To prevent a repetition of this kind of occurrence, the wards have been strengthened around the school.

Is this a sign of the return of He Who Must Not Be Named? If his supporters can get into Hogwarts and put our students in danger... who now is safe?

Harry rolled his eyes. Voldemort's supporters had been getting into Hogwarts in one way or another since his first year; they probably owned master keys to the place. And yet every single time they did, the Prophet wrote about it in breathless tones of disbelief and panic at shocking new evidence of everyone's vulnerability. As Ginny had once scornfully noted, "It's like every time is the First! Time! Ever!"

Also not clear is the fate of McKay. No plans appear to be in place to charge him for the events at Hogwarts, though there are a number of charges pending against him for crimes committed in support of He Who Must Not Be Named. The Prophet has also learned that a suicide watch has been set on McKay, as is standard procedure with Death Eaters; many of You-Know-Who's supporters have come to bloody self-inflicted ends while in custody.

He frowned and skipped over the rest of the article. Skimmed over the rest of the page and immediately wished he hadn't, as New Romance For Boy Who Lived? caught his eye.

"Good lord, Potter, don't read that rubbish," Blaise Zabini said over his shoulder, and for a moment Harry had a highly disorienting feeling that he was back at the Slytherin table. "Got the Charms notes, Weasley?" he said, dropping down onto the bench next to Harry.

Ron nodded, swallowing his toast and bending down to his schoolbag. "Yeah, and I think - Hermione, did you figure out that non-verbal part of it?"

"It's in the margin," Hermione said, pointing it out.

"Oh, so it is. Thanks, Granger," Zabini said, sounding pleased. "Weasley, I'm not quite done with your Potions essay - though I will say if you don't manage to learn the difference between asphodel and asafoetida... well, let's just say your roommates will not thank you for it." He stood up.

"You off to the library?" Ron asked, and Zabini nodded. Ron stood, putting his things in his schoolbag. "Wait up, then, we're going there too. What's the difference?"

"Asphodel and asafoetida?" Zabini laughed as they set off. "The one looks and smells like a lily, and helps in digestive potions. The other comes from giant fennel roots and smells like indigestion. Honestly, what's the use of living with Longbottom if you can't even get decent Herbology help from him?"

Harry gazed after them thoughtfully as they left. What Ron and Zabini had wasn't so much a close friendship as a mutually beneficial academic exchange, but it was nice to see that not every good thing that had come out of the last four months was completely gone. And it wasn't insignificant, either. Harry clearly remembered Zabini being extremely standoffish to non-Slytherins for most of his time at Hogwarts. He'd been particularly disdainful of Muggle-borns and "blood traitors" like the Weasleys. Seeing that attitude mostly gone... it wasn't much, but it was something.

He spared one last glance at the latest article about him, shaking its head at its gushing prose, thankful that at least it was buried in the middle pages.

From bachelor to married man and back again, before age eighteen. It's certainly been an eventful year for Harry Potter, and judging from the amount of mail about him coming in to the Prophet, there is no shortage of young witches - and some young wizards - who would like to meet the young man, who has already proven to be excellent marrying material.

"If he could make marriage work with a person like that terrible Death Eater's son, imagine how happy he could be with a nice girl from a good family," said Yolanda Lovelace, noted advice columnist and marriage expert-

Harry sighed, irately pushing his hair out of his eyes. Checked his schoolbag and realized he was missing his Charms notes. Bloody hell, he needed to get his head screwed back on right; he was spending half his time brooding and the other half distractedly looking for his things. Somehow he didn't remember being quite this disorganized before spending four months living with Draco Malfoy, terrible Death Eater's son and part-time house elf.

Probably because back then he hadn't been spending a disconcerting amount of his time missing the pointy-faced git. He forced himself to not look towards the Slytherin table as he got up and headed for the library, trying not to be bothered by the fact that once again, Ron and Hermione had left without waiting for him. It wasn't their fault. They didn't do it deliberately. But he wasn't the only one who'd formed habits in the last four months; his friends and house mates had gotten used to not having him around half the time, too. Now that he didn't have a constant sidekick, keeping him company for good or bad, he was really realizing how isolated he'd become in Gryffindor.

It would get better. It would. It had only been a few days, after all. They all just needed time.

ooooooo

Day 123, Friday

Pansy pursed her lips as she regarded Draco over their Ancient Runes review chart.

He looked fine. Focussed on his review, looking up some answers he hadn't been able to figure out, a small frown of concentration as he silently mouthed the words to himself, committing them to memory. Perfectly fine.

Marvellous acting, really. Anybody who hadn't known him for years would honestly think there was nothing wrong.

Pansy sighed and looked away from her Runes, and her gaze fell on yet another bloody Prophet article.

Speculation runs rampant that Lucius Malfoy, convicted Death Eater and father of Draco Malfoy, former spouse of Harry Potter, may have gone back to He Who Must Not Be Named, now that his son will no longer be vulnerable if Potter is attacked. He has been unreachable since shortly after his son was released from his bond with Mr. Potter. Could it be that Malfoy has changed his colours again?

Oh, no, really? Pansy thought.

If Malfoy has returned to He Who Must Not Be Named, is there any chance of being accepted back into the fold? Or will he be punished instead?

Pansy looked at Draco over the edge of the paper. Anybody who knew him better would have thought, if they noticed Draco's slightly subdued manner at all, that he was merely worried about his father and his family's position with respect to the Dark Lord. Because they all, Death Eaters and their foes alike, knew one thing about the Dark Lord: he wasn't a big fan of forgiving and forgetting.

Anybody who had gotten to know Draco as well as Pansy had this year would've known that that wasn't the whole story. He was worried, Pansy could see that. But he was also...

Well, he didn't startle at the mention of the Dark Lord, or his father. He did when Potter was called on in class. He didn't blush and look away when somebody mentioned the Dark Lord. He did when Potter was talking.

His tongue was sharper than ever as he tore into Queenie and Nott and occasionally Millicent, as he made fun of various random Hufflepuffs, or Loony Lovegood. He never mentioned Potter.

Pansy put her paper down and idly ran her fingers through Draco's hair, prompting him to make a small noise of annoyance and lean his head away from her for a moment, not looking up from his reviewing. She'd felt a small pang of sorrow when he'd asked her to cut it yesterday, but she had to admit this length was probably more practical, and looked good on him too. Although the ice-white shoulder-length had been lovely. Such a shame, such gorgeous hair wasted on a boy.

Draco frowned absently at his notes, crossed out an answer and gave a sigh, staring off into space. Pansy regarded him thoughtfully.

He didn't even know he was doing it. Brooding, lapsing into silence when he wasn't actively being prodded by the outside world. Worry for his father and disorientation from the broken bond tugging him into this reflective, distracted mode.

And he needed to snap out of it. It did him no good to be like this, balanced precariously on nothing, waiting for his family's chips to fall and moping over the end of his bond like a Kneazle over lost kits. Unfortunately, Pansy couldn't seem to do much to help him. Studying, playing chess, gossiping about their fellow students... none of it seemed to distract Draco all that much.

He could probably use a good healthy shag, she mused. Because among other things, going from a rather... vigorous physical relationship to nothing at all probably wasn't helping matters any.

Come to think of it, she could probably use a good healthy shag herself. Anthony Goldstein had been fun for a while, but she'd grown tired of him and broken it off with him about three months ago. In hindsight, it hadn't been a terribly wise decision; while it was nice to be rid of Anthony's hair-twirling and pen-tapping and tie-fiddling, she'd also wanted to hex Draco and Pottter every single time they disappeared and then came back looking cheerfully well-shagged. In other words, several times a day.

She smiled brightly and sat up, tapping Draco's shoulder. "Darling, we've been at this for hours. I need a break."

"Yeah, all right, I'll finish up the third chapter-"

"I think you need a break too."

"Right." He nodded agreeably enough, put aside his book and rubbed his eyes, stretching, still frowning absently at his work.

"Stop thinking."

"Right, yeah."

"And stop worrying."

He glanced up at her curiously. "What?"

"About your father, love. He's a smart man. He'll be all right."

"Right."

Pansy searched the room for inspiration and found it in Queenie and Nott, whose on-again, off-again relationship was apparently going through a high point, judging from the overabundance of writhing eel-like limbs on one of the common room's love seats.

Pansy made a face. "You know, that's one thing I really appreciated about you and Potter. You kept the nausea factor down to a minimum."

Draco followed her gaze and smiled slightly.

"D'you miss it?"

"What?"

"Shagging regularly. I was so bloody jealous the whole time you were with him - well, after you finally got him to act like a normal human male, that is. There I was, reduced to bloody French plaisir spells, while he gave it to you three times a day. Dreadfully unfair."

Draco gave her an amused smirk.

"Can't be easy, going from feast to famine like that," she said thoughtfully, and Draco shrugged, his eyes wandering back to his work.

Pansy inwardly rolled her eyes at him. She toyed with the thought of simply snapping, "Kindly pay attention to me while I'm trying to seduce you," but decided that, in terms of jarring him out of this mood, it would probably be much better for him to think he was the one actively pursuing sexual conquests, as any healthy single male should do.

"Can't see what Nott sees in Queenie, honestly," Pansy said disparagingly. "For one thing, I hear she flat-out refuses to go south."

"Really?"

"Really. Very strange. Well her mother's one of these fanatical ban-doire Irish witches, you know, all-women covens and all that?"

"Yeah, I heard."

"I've no problem at all with the theory, but seriously, if those covens require you to swear off some of the more enjoyable pastimes around, count me out."

"Quite."

"Mind you, she doesn't seem to be all that inhibited right now, does she?" Pansy trailed off thoughtfully, noting that Draco was no longer looking at his review, but was instead gazing at Nott and Queenie.

"Ugh, I can't watch this," Pansy said. "They're actually rather putting me off the whole notion of sex." She turned back to her Runes, noting with amusement that Draco was a little flushed. "Now, why can't Blaise go out with anybody from Slytherin? Him I'd happily watch." She scratched out a rune. "Did I ever tell you I caught him and that silly Gryffindor bint, Lavender Brown, just about in flagrante delicto once." She sighed happily. "Broke my heart to take points off of them - I wanted to pay them for the show. Very pretty pair."

Draco forcibly looked away from Queenie and Nott but tapped his quill on the desk, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair irately. Pansy smirked inwardly.

"Though Blaise broke it off soon after that - he said he got tired of how stupid she was, but I think it was because he was disappointed that she wouldn't ask her friend Parvati Patil to join them. You know there were those rumours about those two for the longest time, them being so close and all that-"

"Pansy."

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you very much mind? Some of us aren't as used to deprivation as you are."

Pansy looked up, feigning surprise. "Oh, Draco, I'm sorry that was rather insensitive of me wasn't it?"

"Rather," Draco said tersely.

"Sorry, love." She briefly caressed his hand in apology, then turned back to her Runes. Waited patiently for a few seconds and...

Draco's hand was on hers, and he was leaning a little closer than usual. "You wouldn't consider making it up to me, would you?" he said casually, and Pansy furrowed her brow slightly.

"What?" She blinked at him, then raised her eyebrows. "Oh. Oh!" She tilted her head to the side, as if thinking it over. "Oh, really? Is that a proposition?"

Draco grinned at her. "Depends. Are you up for propositioning? Or would you rather keep discussing the sex life of everybody else in the school who has one?"

Pansy grinned back at him and congratulated herself.

ooooooo

Day 125, Sunday

Hermione looked up from Ron's latest Charms assignment and smiled as Harry entered the Gryffindor common room.

"So... how was your date?" she asked.

"My what?" he said, sitting down next to Ginny.

"You and Hannah Abbot, in the library," said Ron, lying comfortably on the couch with his head on Hermione's lap, staring at the fire while Hermione checked his assignment. "How'd it go?"

Harry blinked at him. "You mean, helping her with the last Herbology assignment?"

"Whatever," Ginny said impatiently. "How did it go?"

"I was helping her on an assignment," he repeated slowly, frowning at them slightly.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Harry, you didn't honestly think-" Hermione cut herself off as Harry's puzzled frown deepened. "You're joking. Did you really think that was just about homework?"

"Wasn't it?" Harry seemed to register the amused looks around the three of them. Hermione almost felt like rolling her eyes.

"She's had a crush on you since late last year. Did you not know that?"

"Well... yeah, you told me."

"And it didn't occur to you to think she might've had an ulterior motive for asking for your help with Herbology?"

Harry shook his head sheepishly.

"So how did it go?"

"All right, I guess," Harry mumbled, and Hermione did roll her eyes.

"You talked about nothing except the assignment, didn't you?"

"Well I didn't know there was anything else to talk about," Harry said defensively.

"She's very pretty, you know. And you were kind of interested in her last year too," Ginny reminded him. "You were just going to see if anything happened after the summer was over, remember? And then the bond happened and that flew out the window."

"Well, yeah."

"Harry, you're not married any more," Hermione reminded him encouragingly, puzzled at his slight flinch at her words. She frowned, losing track of the conversation as she quickly reviewed other subtle signs she'd seen in the last few days, and came to a rather unhappy conclusion.

Oh, Harry.

Poor Hannah. Making a play for a boy who was apparently still a bit attached to his ex.

It shouldn't be a surprise, Hermione mused. They'd been relatively comfortable with each other near the end; if it hadn't been Malfoy he'd been bonded to, Hermione would've even said Harry was happy with him. But they'd both seemed perfectly willing to end it, and Hermione had expected only a couple of days of slight disorientation before Harry was right back to normal again, relieved to be free and ready to go on with his life.

It had only been a little over a week, she reminded herself. Not that long. Though Malfoy was apparently quite happily over Harry - rumour had it he and Parkinson were an item again - Harry, being somewhat less shallow than Malfoy, just needed a bit more time. And a bit more help, seeing as how Harry was more than a bit clueless when it came to his personal life.

"How was she?" Ron was asking.

"All right. Quiet."

"Yeah, she's a bit shy." Ron nodded.

"Did you do anything to offend her?" Hermione asked.

"Er... no, I don't think so."

"Well, then, ask her out again," she said encouragingly.

"What? How?" Harry said rather stupidly, and Hermione and Ginny exchanged an amused glance.

"Harry, come on," Ginny said. "You can't possibly be nervous about asking somebody out."

"I've never really - I mean, I haven't-"

"You were married for four months!" Ron said incredulously. "How can you still be shy about this kind of thing?"

"I didn't have to ask him out though, did I?" Harry muttered uncomfortably. "And I didn't have to try to entertain him or, or hope he wouldn't get bored with me."

"Point."

"Besides... what if she wants to, you know..."

"What, go to bed with you? And again, how can you still-"

"No, not go to bed," Harry said impatiently, then frowned slightly and Hermione realized with some amusement that that idea seemed to make him extremely nervous as well. "I mean, you know... talk..."

"What's wrong with that?"

"What would I talk to her about? I can't talk to girls," he mumbled uncomfortably.

"Who are you talking to right now?" Ginny said slowly.

"You two don't count," he muttered.

"Oh, good, so glad you're back to your old self," Ginny said dryly.

"Ask her out again," Ron suggested helpfully.

"Ask who out again?" Dean asked as he, Seamus, Neville, and Colin Creevey joined them by the fire, just in from the cold and still red-cheeked.

"Hannah Abbot."

"Oh yeah, how was your date, Harry?" Colin asked.

"Did everybody but me know this was supposed to be a date?" Harry asked irately.

"Yeah," came back as a chorus.

"He thought it was just about Herbology," Ginny explained. "We've just disabused him of the notion."

"He's going to ask her out again," said Ron.

"No I'm not-"

"Yeah, good idea, Harry," said Seamus. "And if you did end up with her, that would be a little easier to live with than... I mean, you know..."

Chuckles went around the group. "Oh, yeah, Harry," Dean said enthusiastically, "you could bring Hannah back here and Seamus wouldn't get the vapours."

"Even if you did something shocking like sit next to her-" said Colin.

"Or hold her hand-" said Neville.

"Or even," Dean dropped his voice dramatically, "snog her."

"Shut up, you wankers!" Seamus muttered.

"Although you might have to draw the line at lying on a couch with your head in her lap," Ron said. "Because that's just... well, that's just indecent-" he laughed as Seamus went upstairs, flipping the bird at the lot of them as he left.

"Look, I don't think you'll - I don't think he'll have anything to worry about. I don't think I'll ask her out," Harry said uncomfortably.

"Why not?"

"I don't have time for - I just want to focus on the NEWTS and getting back into Quidditch again. And on what's going on outside of school. I don't want to get distracted."

There was an uncomfortable hush as everybody tried very hard to not think of the latest news from the Prophet. Another disappearance. Disturbing rumours of Death Eater activity in the Highlands, disturbingly close to Hogwarts. Hermione glanced at a paper lying on the nearest common room table, "Convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy Returns From Mysterious Absence" blazed across the front of it.

"Well." Ginny cleared her throat. "That was a very nice way to bring down the room, Harry," she said, and the others laughed uneasily. "If you wanted us to stop talking about your love life, you might've just said so."

"Sorry."

Ginny pulled the Prophet closer. "I wonder if he's thought of legally changing his name to 'Convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy'," she mused.

"What d'you think Malfoy's father's going to do?" Neville said quietly.

"I don't know," Harry said heavily. "And I don't think I want to."

"What'll you do?" asked Neville hesitantly. "If war comes, and you have to... go against Malfoy. Fight him."

"I don't know," Harry said, his voice low.

Hermione gazed at him thoughtfully. Though Harry had hardly ever talked about it, he'd probably wondered just that a thousand times in the last few months. They all had. But it had been different then, because he and Malfoy had been bonded and there was no way Malfoy could've fought Harry without committing suicide, and Malfoy really wasn't the type to selflessly sacrifice himself for any cause.

Now, though...

"I don't know if I could either." Neville shook his head.

They all looked at him in surprise. "Really?" said Hermione.

"He's not his father," Neville said quietly.

"No, he's not."

"He's our classmate. He's not the enemy. None of them are, really."

"Not right now, they're not," said Ron. "But what if one of them attacked you?"

"If I had to defend myself, I would. But attacking them first..." Neville shook his head.

"Well, let's hope we never have to find out," Ron said, closing his eyes and effectively signalling the end of the discussion.

Hermione stroked Ron's hair, thinking as she stared into the flames in the fireplace, losing track of the conversation as the rest of them moved on to cheerier subjects.

Esposito had been right. Harry and Malfoy could've done a lot of people a lot of good, had they stayed together. In fact, they had done some good, even in four short months. Though it had been hard at first, quite a few people from both houses had made the effort to get along and had succeeded, to varying degrees. Zabini and Ron, Dean and Tracey Davis - even Hermione herself had been able to put aside animosity and get along with Pansy Parkinson, not just for truly important things like saving their friends' lives, but even for simpler things like organizing a surprise to make it possible for Harry and Malfoy to participate in the Yule Ball.

"Some of us can be human," Esposito and Parkinson had both said, and Hermione had finally seen it. And she was almost sure some of the Slytherins had seen it too.

How much farther could they all have gone, if Lucius Malfoy hadn't found Parnassus McKay?

ooooooo

Day 129, Thursday

Harry sighed, trudging back to the Quidditch hut to retrieve the books he'd forgotten there after early morning practice. He rubbed his head, trying to will away a headache that had been worsening in the last few days.

Damn it, he had to snap out of this. This was getting ridiculous. He wasn't concentrating terribly well, and he needed to, if for no other reason than the coming NEWTS. Odd, that he hadn't realized how much Draco's study habits had rubbed off on him, since a lot of the time when they were together, Draco was studying and unless Harry wanted to sit and watch his hair grow or re-read Quidditch Through The Ages for the fiftieth time, the only thing for him to do was study too. But it was not easy to keep up that kind of discipline without a live-in academic conscience. Hermione's nagging just didn't quite measure up any more.

It was too easy to get distracted from the tedium of studying. If it wasn't the nearest game of Exploding Snap, it was Quidditch, and if it wasn't either of those, it was the news.

He should probably go back to doing what he'd done right after the bond: just stay as far away from he Prophet as possible. Because it was too easy to get pulled into useless speculation as to which parts of the news had to do with Voldemort and which didn't. Or spend hours wondering what the hell Lucius Malfoy was up to now. Just today there had been a quote from him about not trusting Muggles - it matched other conservative rhetoric he'd been spouting since coming back from his mysterious absence, and Harry had no idea what that meant.

And he was still waiting for whatever "ugliness" Draco had half-warned him about the day they'd dissolved the bond.

Which led to the other thing distracting him lately. It was definitely not easy to keep up with studies as he got more and more annoyed at how slowly he seemed to be getting over the bond. The Healer had warned of "some disorientation for the first few days", but it had been almost two weeks and the only thing he could be really sure of was that he was getting bloody tired of missing Draco. The feeling that he was walking around with part of himself absent had subsided somewhat and he no longer felt off-balance by the lack of a constant companion, but the feeling of wanting to talk to him in class, wanting to fly with him, or simply to hear his voice, wasn't going away at all as far as Harry could tell.

And the whole lack of sex thing... was not exactly making it easy to get on with his life. Half-aroused was becoming an almost permanent condition these days. What with that, and the absent-mindedness and moodiness, it was no wonder he had a headache.

Perhaps he should ask Hannah out after all, even though the idea didn't exactly fill him with enthusiasm. Which was odd; Hannah was quite pretty and he had been interested in her, once. But now he felt utterly uninterested, as well as... well, it was ridiculous, but he almost felt like he was cheating, or something, even thinking of asking her out.

Even more ridiculous, the thought of doing anything romantic with Hannah almost frightened him. He'd had sex more times and in more ways than he'd even known to be possible four months ago, and yet here he was, acutely alarmed at the thought of snogging Hannah Abbot.

And the absolute height of ridiculousness was that part of him was even frightened of not snogging or sleeping with Hannah Abbot. What if she didn't want sex? What if she wanted to talk instead? Talking to Hermione and Ginny was one thing, but he'd made an utter hash of communicating with the only girl he'd ever tried to talk to in a romantic setting, and wasn't eager to try again.

That had been one nice thing about being with Draco. Draco never particularly wanted to talk, and he always wanted sex. And when they did talk, Harry never had to worry about what to say. Except for the brief period when they were trying to work out how to be together in a non-hostile manner, their communication had been relatively stress-free. For the first little while, they'd had a well-established pattern of hatred and mutual insults, and after their suspension, they'd grown comfortable with each other. Besides, he never had to spend half of a conversation trying to guess what Draco was thinking or feeling; he either knew, because of the bond, or he didn't know, but didn't much care.

Unbelievable. Here he was, thinking with fond nostalgia of his mistake of a marriage to Draco Malfoy, while terrified of the idea of dating a Hufflepuff girl. He could almost hear Draco's sneering voice making remarks that involved the words 'pathetic' and 'unfathomable' and 'twit'. And he could hear himself agreeing wholeheartedly.

No, he really should make the effort with Hannah. After all, apparently Draco had had a bit of a fling with Pansy not long after their bond was broken, and if Draco could move on, so could he.

He turned the corner of the hut, nearly colliding with somebody coming the other way.

"Oh - sorry!" he blurted, fumbling to keep his books from falling as a familiar voice snapped "Watch where you're-"

He and Draco froze, staring at each other wide-eyed.

"Oh. Erm. Sorry, I, I wasn't paying attention-" Harry broke eye contact first, reaching down for the books Draco had dropped.

"No, that's all right - my fault, I wasn't, erm..." Draco trailed off.

"Here." Harry stood up, handing Draco his books.

"Thanks."

They both stared at the ground for a moment.

Harry cleared his throat. "Erm... it's nice seeing you-" he winced at how stupid that sounded as it left his mouth. They saw each other all the time. "Outside of class, that is."

Brief smile, quickly stifled, from Draco. "Yeah." He cleared his throat too. "How... how've you been?"

"All right, just fine," Harry said quickly. "Erm... you?"

"Yeah, good."

"I heard... I mean, I read, your father's back."

"Yeah."

"That's... good, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, it's... it's good."

Fuck, this was so incredibly awkward. Harry cleared his throat. "I guess we better, erm..."

"Yeah." Draco nodded, and Harry started to move off, then looked up as Draco cleared his throat.

"How... how are you really?" Draco asked quickly.

Harry shrugged uneasily, but gave him a small smile. "Erm... all right. It's... it's still weird though, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Are things... all right, in Slytherin?"

"Erm... more or less," Draco said evasively.

"Really?"

Draco shrugged. "Nott's still being a bastard, but..."

"But you'd know something was wrong if he wasn't."

Draco chuckled. "Yeah."

"Did... don't tell me, obviously, if you can't, but I, I just wondered... did you ever find out anything about McKay..." he trailed off, uncomfortably aware that Draco might not be able to tell him anything even if he knew.

Draco shook his head. "He was a Death Eater. That's as much as I know. I don't know how Father found him... or how he managed to turn him over, or if he had anything to do with anybody here."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah."

And there was nothing more to say, really, Harry realized. Despite the fact that neither one of them seemed in a hurry to get away from the other, they had nothing else to talk about.

And that was a good thing. He gave himself a small shake and nodded. "Well. I better go get my..."

"Yeah, me too."

They stepped past each other, then Harry thought of something and half-turned. "Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"I saw you're back on the team. They're doing better already."

Draco smirked. "We'll fly you into the ground in the last game."

Harry smirked back. "They're not doing that well."

Draco shrugged. "Your team may have the better players, but your Keeper's abysmal. And your Seeker can't compare to ours."

"I'm better at matches, remember? And I've learned a bit about your style of Seeking, too."

"Won't do you any good," Draco said easily. "Best of luck against Hufflepuff, though."

"Thanks."

And they walked past each other.

Harry entered the hut and leaned his back against the door. God, this was ridiculous. He was... his headache was forgotten and he was a little flushed and actually a bit shaky, with an oddly warm feeling in his chest like something wonderful had happened instead of just having a stilted, horribly awkward conversation with his... ex.

Carry on. Carry on, and get a grip. Nothing to see here. He squared his shoulders and went to retrieve his books.