Of Love and Ley Lines

Author's Notes:

Wow! I guess this must be a record time between posts! Hopefully you'll all forgive me. I've arranged with my beta, Alexa Black, a way to try and churn out chapters more regularly now for both this story and When in Rome.

Please accept my apologies. I have had quite a tedious year filled with bereavement, exams and a very heavy workload-- not a great combination!

Here's wishing you all a happy 2008. If you want to join my mailing list for update information, email a request to [email protected]

Chapter 3

Harry felt different. It was as though he was in an entirely new body. He felt light and fluid, like he was both within the confines of his body and yet free of it completely. His gaze was filled with a golden light so pure, so perfect, and unlike anything he had felt before. Yes, it wasn't like seeing anymore, he concluded. He could feel the haze of light. He was part of it. Not all of it though. The other part of the light came from somewhere else. From Harry's opposite. From Draco.

Harry floated through the iridescent fog, searching for the source of his completion. He was timeless. It felt like he'd been looking for hours yet, somewhere within himself -- the part still connected to his physical presence -- he was vaguely aware of feeling his body leaning forwards slightly. His breath caught in his mouth and the golden cloud infused with energy and emotion as soft lips met his own. A kiss that lasted a few seconds ignited a binding that had been in existence since the dawning of time. Two souls fused and the cloud ebbed in a flash of power.

Harry could see a beautiful creature before him; a face carved from silver and sunlight. The creature smiled softly at him and Harry heard its musical voice inside his head. "Natura Mundi Penitus Sanare." The light flowed back as naturally as the tide and as forceful as a tidal wave. Harry slipped from consciousness, or whatever masquerade of consciousness he had been experiencing. And, as he did, he was internally aware of the same thing happening to Draco.

*~*~*~*~*

Ron and Hermione had made their way down two flights of stairs before they realised that Harry was nowhere in sight. They turned to walk back up the stairs, but it was like trying to climb in the opposite direction of a stampede. Impossible. Conceding defeat, they stood at the bottom the staircase to wait for Harry. He never came.

Five minutes went by, then five more. That was when they had felt it. A ripple of energy so potent swept the pair clear off their feet as they were standing so close to its source.

A pulsation of magic exploded across Hogwarts. Everyday spells that were being cast quadrupled in their efficiency and potions burnt through their confining cauldrons. Ghosts found their bodies momentarily distorted into wisps of unidentifiable structure. A young Ravenclaw who was having his broken arm healed in the infirmary suddenly found himself with two extra arms. Pandemonium broke loose.

Over the raucous noise of excited squeals and terrified yelps from the third year Charms class just down the corridor, Hermione somehow managed to get Ron's attention.

"Harry!" she yelled, frantically starting towards the History of Magic room and the source of this magical surge.

Her mind was racing; how could it not be after what she'd spent her lunchtime reading? Magical surges were only caused by phenomenally powerful magical beings under exceptional circumstances, such as the completion of a bond. Logic was forgotten for the first time in the young woman's life and she began to wonder who Harry was with and what bond they shared. She knew her theory was insane; she knew that even if she was correct, Harry might not have been involved, but as she ran pell-mell towards the room, hastily dodging a floating suit of armour and with a bewildered Ron in tow, it was the only solution that she could think of.

Her running came to an abrupt halt. Standing by the door to the classroom was an elated Dumbledore, his eyes glistening and his hands clasped together in apparent delight. A tapestry opposite the doorway had been pushed aside to reveal a passageway, through which stumbled a very out of breath Severus Snape.

"Rushing off like a mad man...How many stairs?!...Twice my age and yet, double the energy....Bloody Headmaster trying to kill me..." Snape's laboured breathing and dark muttering ceased when he saw Hermione and Ron standing a few feet away. He glared at them sullenly before pulling himself up to his full height and walking over to Dumbledore.

"What did I tell you, my boy? I knew it!" Dumbledore's voice was awestruck and his eyes never left the door window.

"Then why did the idiot boys activate it before they knew all the details, Albus? Surely Draco isn't as stupid as Potter. He'd never agree to something like this if he'd known the consequences."

"I don't think either boy had much of a say in the matter," replied the old man, giving the Potions Master a conspiratorial glance before nodding towards Ron and Hermione and beckoning them closer. Both Gryffindors craned their necks to see into the classroom but Dumbledore blocked it from view.

"I know that you are concerned about Mr. Potter. I will be escorting both him and his companion to an isolated room where Madam Pomfrey can carry out some tests. You needn't worry about him; he isn't injured. He merely lost control of his magic. He will need bed rest to recuperate but that should be all."

"Companion?" Hermione enquired, her voice laced with an interest that the Headmaster didn't fail to notice.

"Astute as always, Miss. Granger. But please keep your suspicions to yourself until we can confirm their nature."

Hermione nodded and turned to a confused Ron. "Let's go. Harry's in safe hands."

Ron's face momentarily flickered with doubt before Hermione quickly stood on tiptoe, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before leading him away, glassy eyed and unquestioning. At top of the stairs, Hermione shot a look over her shoulder to see the two teachers engaged in urgent conversation. Snape looked more vexed by the second and Dumbledore more jubilant, something which dissolved Hermione's worries for now. Anything that could make Snape look so angry and Dumbledore so pleased had to be a good thing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Hogwarts rumour mill was working overtime. The surge of magic had led to widespread panic once the hilarity of the situations the students had found themselves in had worn off. They all waited anxiously for an announcement from Dumbledore at their meal that evening to reassure them, but none was given.

The actions of the students couldn't have been more predictable: the Hufflepuffs panicked and made sure that their entire house was well and accounted for; the Ravenclaws researched; the Slytherins pondered the possible darker cause of the surge; and the Gryffindors ignored it as they knew nothing could be done about it. That characteristic of Gryffindors had always been lost on Harry. He never took things at face value. He followed his gut instinct at all times. Gryffindors were brave, sure enough, but they were a dependable sort of spontaneous brave, not a calculating, plotting, loose-canon brave.

Harry always supposed that it was his hidden Slytherin attributes that the Sorting Hat had seen within him, making him a free-radical of sorts, enigmatic and with characteristics at a complete, stark juxtaposition to others. In one moment, he could be both selfish and selfless. It was what made him dangerous because quite honestly, not even he knew how he was going to respond from one moment to the next.

Of course, none of his fellow students saw this. Everyone was so sure they knew him, so certain of his motives that they never questioned him when he turned full circle and did something sly or manipulative. They were so preoccupied with this persona of Gryffindor goodness that they had built up around him. This image worked for Harry because it gave him the element of surprise, the upper hand at all times.

That's why when he found himself in an unfamiliar room with a splitting headache and the sensations of everything flowing through him, around him, part of him, he felt doubly out of control. He strained to remember something to indicate where he was, but all he could think of was a haze of emotion, colour and intensity. The room was pitch black. Straining his eyes, Harry could see a sprinkle of colour opposite him. Focusing on it, he found that he could feel it -- a faint tingling of calm rest as someone slept deeply. Ignoring this, Harry tried to work out where the rest of the sensations he felt were coming from. Some were his own emotions, he decided, and others were traces of magic and emotion left like wisps in the air. But that wasn't all.

He could feel the emotions of another, not his sleeping companion across the room. These mystery emotions were more clear-cut and strong. He turned to the other side of the room and saw a wash of colour. Metallic hues of concern and disorientation left an astringent taste in the back of Harry's mouth but he knew these were not his own feelings.

Seeing clearly was difficult. It was as though Harry had to combine his vision with his feelings to get a clear picture, like his body no longer trusted his eyes. After a few moments of practice, Harry could make out a figure. He couldn't see the person himself -- that would have been impossible in such darkness. Rather, he pinned the emotions to their source and saw a silhouette of the person. Colours flared and faded as the person's thoughts changed but the overall aura of the person was a pearly, iridescent silver.

Stumbling towards the shape, Harry was aware of it looking towards him. He wondered if it could see him too or whether it could only hear him. A sharp pain induced a spark of red light and a curse from Harry as his knees collided with the side of something on which the figure was seated. A grumbling came from the person across the room. The figure turned towards Harry, directly this time, as the other person lit the magical lights with an incantation. Blinking and swaying slightly as he adjusted both to having normal vision as well as this new vision -- and the tingle of the magical lights -- Harry recognised the figure in front of him and remembered what had happened.

All in all, it was an overwhelming sequence of realisations and sensations to adapt to in such a short time period. Harry's head gave an almighty stab of pain and he keeled over onto Draco's bed, welcoming the peaceful abyss of unconsciousness once more.

Draco winced and shook himself fully awake. He never had been able to sleep when someone was watching him -- but whatever Harry had been doing, it hadn't been normal watching. Flashes of Harry's sight had forced their way into the forefront of Draco's mind. Taking note of his surroundings, he relaxed slightly upon noticing Snape. The disgruntled looking man muttered under his breath bitterly as he rose, stretched and crossed the room.

"Professor?"

"It would seem that passing out is becoming a bit of a habit for him," the dark man snarked dryly. "At least now that you've finally deigned to join us, you can help him."

Draco looked confused. Snape hated that. If people could only understand things, his teaching life may have been bearable. Maybe. He sighed and resigned himself to yet another tedious explanation.

"I presume that you've heard of the Elemental Healers...."

*~*~*~*

"So, let me just set this straight...I'm just supposed to think him awake?"

"To put an extremely complex process into layman's terms -- however much I may despise doing so --- yes. He is you, you are him. You cannot control each other's bodies but you, as the Healer, have the ability to Heal your beloved with as little effort as 'thinking him awake'."

"Beloved?! He's Potter! I don't love him!"

Severus smiled slightly at Draco's typical objection. The boy was an Elemental. He had just found his Soul Mate. He still couldn't get over the fact that it was Potter.

"I don't mean love in an allusion to a romantic attachment between the two of you -- that may or may not occur. I refer to love in the sense that you are one. I can't begin to comprehend the attachment you two will share, but the fact of the matter is that you are bonded together through pure love. So yes, Mr. Malfoy, the traditional name for those bonded elementally is 'beloved'."

Draco looked down at Harry bemusedly. He couldn't feel him as he did earlier. When they'd kissed -- he cringed at the memory -- he had felt a whole new world of sensations; it was clichéd to even think it, but Draco's world had been moved.

However, the fact remained that the figure laying unconscious before him was the same boy he had resented for so long. The boy who had turned down his friendship; the boy who always came out one better than Draco, no matter the situation. The Boy Who Lived. Conflicting images flashed through Draco's mind -- Harry raising the Quidditch Cup, a smug grin reserved for Draco; Harry sitting alone in the library, unaware of Draco's watching gaze, and crying silently over what appeared to be a photo album. There was a rational portion of Draco's mind that realised that he didn't know Harry at all -- the vision he had witnessed proved that. But did he want to know him? As his beloved, did he even have that choice?

Severus watched the blond in silence. He could see the boy trying to come to terms with his new situation. He watched him debate whether or not it was possible that Harry wasn't just the Wonder Boy everyone, Severus himself included, took him for.

"He isn't just the Boy Who Lived, Draco. That is but the side of him we have been forced to suffer through. Without him, you are nothing. You have no choice but to try."

Confused grey eyes finally looked up from Harry. Snape was being rational, calm and not paranoid about the situation. His eyes narrowed. "Why are you here with us, sir? Why not Dumbledore or Potter's Head of House?"

"There are many types of bonds, Draco, not just Elemental. I myself have been subject to one. As the only member of staff here who has, and as your Head of House, I am merely the best choice to help you adjust."

Snape's expression became closed and Draco knew from experience that that meant that the conversation was firmly over. He vaguely wondered about Snape's bond, but cast his speculating aside.

With a resigned air, he squatted down fluidly. Biting his bottom lip in concentration (a very un-Malfoy-esque trait, which had been the bane of his father's annoyance for many years), he brushed his hand softly against Harry's brow. It felt like clicking the pieces of a puzzle back into position, then easing the gaps between the pieces until a flawless image remained.

Harry drew in a ragged breath and eased back into consciousness. His eyes opened and he met Draco's gaze uncertainly. Draco found himself half-thinking that Harry's eye colour reflected his very personality. Green -- youthful and tender and yet jaded somehow though a lack of childhood innocence, innocence that had been torn from him. Draco almost felt defensively protective of those eyes. They shouldn't hold so much hurt. But then he tried to extend such a notion to Harry in his entirety, and he stumbled. Harry was the Boy Who Lived. He didn't need defending no matter what ridiculous connotations Draco and his love of words had given to his eyes.

Harry, meanwhile, was looking at Draco in a similarly analytical manner. His gaze was fixated on the boy's lips. He watched as sharp, perfectly white teeth bit down onto his bottom lip. He could see the rose pink of the lips with his normal vision, but the new layered vision he had gained made the lips change to a slow purple-red smudge against a perfect silver aura.

Snape cleared his throat in the background. Harry felt the intention behind it was to bring the boys back to there senses. He realised they'd been staring and blushed slightly. But the smudge was annoying him. Tentatively, he reached his hand up to Draco's mouth and eased the lip from between the teeth. "Don't," he said softly, "it'll bruise."

Now it was Draco's turn to blush. He stumbled backwards and landed without dignity on his arse. He snapped his gaze onto Snape, who was chuckling slightly. Snape levitated an unresisting Harry back onto his bed before pointedly glaring at Draco, who hurried to return to his own bed.

"Try to get some sleep. I've set an alarm to alert me should you have need of me. In the meantime, I must leave for breakfast. The school is not to become aware of my disappearance. Your own disappearances will be dealt with by the Headmaster." With that, Severus swept from the room.

Breakfast? Draco wondered how long they'd been unconscious. Harry wondered how anyone could possibly tell the time in the dungeons without the dawn light glaring through a window. Draco caught Harry's train of thought and sniggered with a role of his eyes. What a Gryffindor.

"Am not!"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Well I am, but only through choice."

Draco raised both eyebrows as he caught a flash of disjointed memory coming from the raven-haired boy.

"I haven't a clue what is going on in our heads, but it certainly makes arguing easier if it means I only have to think the truth." Harry sat up and stretched. "Care to explain what's going on?"

"Not particularly, beloved," Draco spat, suddenly riled by the idea of Harry being a Slytherin.

"Beloved?!" Harry was completely confused now and he knew that Draco was not intending to help. He sighed heavily and tried to sleep.

He knew Draco wasn't asleep, but the boy was certainly pretending to be. Harry felt suffocated. He was out of his depth and needed to be alone. So why did the prospect of leaving the silvery ghost, whose purple smudge had faded since his intervention, trouble him so much? As Draco had related to Harry's eyes, Harry related to Draco's aura in a way that was still impossible to apply to the person. Beloved? Harry asked again, only to himself this time. He looked at Draco's still form and focused on his new vision. Beloved? Surveying the silvery glow, he couldn't help but wonder.