Checkmate

You and I
We've seen it all
Chasing our hearts' desire
But we go on pretending
Stories like ours
Have happy endings

Lyrics from "You and I" from Chess by Benny Anderson, Tim Rice and Björn Ulvaeus

* * *

Harry felt the sudden restoration of the Ti'kira binding as a surge of emotional warmth that poured into his heart and flowed outward, spreading out through his body in waves of tingles he felt down to his fingertips. It was a flood of warmth and love and comfort so familiar and cherished and essential to him now, that it made his breath catch as it washed away his fears, filling all the empty loneliness he'd felt in its absence. For the most fleeting second he envisioned what he would see through the Aurascope, and knew it was true as certainly as if he could actually see it, that the thin diaphanous cord that linked him with Draco was now a two-way connection, with shining beads of gold running from himself to Draco, and a second stream of crystal white beads, like tiny prisms, diamond-bright, flowing from Draco into himself. He couldn't help feeling a rush of joy, even while blinking back the tears of profound relief that welled up when Draco moved and sighed. Harry rose up on one elbow to look down intently into Draco's face, waiting, hoping, barely daring to breathe.

Then Draco opened his eyes.

"Harry?" Draco's query was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, barely audible, but both wonder and confusion sounded in it. "Where . . . ?"

For a moment, all Harry could do was simply gaze, speechless, with his lower lip caught behind his teeth, into those beloved gray eyes. A deep thrill went through him at the sight of them for he'd almost despaired of ever seeing them again.

"We're in the hospital wing," said Harry, at last, his voice choked with emotion. "You were . . . hurt." He remembered that Madam Pomfrey had readied a dose of the Reviving Potion for if Draco regained consciousness and he sat up. "C'mon," he said gently. "Try to sit up a little. There's a potion here you need to drink."

Draco winced with pain when he tried to move, so Harry slipped one arm behind Draco's shoulders and slowly and carefully helped him sit up, propping the pillow behind them so that he could lean back and let Draco lean against him.

Suddenly Draco drew a sharp intake of breath as memory came crashing back. "My father . . .?" he asked in alarm.

"The Aurors took him," said Harry, holding Draco tightly within the circle of his arm. "You're safe."

Draco nodded and closed his eyes for a second, obviously relieved, then he looked back up at Harry, slightly startled again, his gray eyes filling with dawning astonishment as more memory surfaced. One trembling hand came up to hold weakly onto Harry's arm. "How did I . . . ?" he whispered.

Meeting Draco's questioning eyes with his own, Harry wondered where in the world to begin to explain. There was so much that he didn't understand himself, and looking into Draco's eyes, he felt his awareness of all of the connections that had been severed come flooding back, almost overwhelming in intensity. He felt their magical auras rejoin and the reconnection of the Ti'kira binding, both so wonderfully welcome, but in this moment, suddenly frightening too. Their loss and restoration were a very vivid revelation of the contrast between his life before Draco and what he had gained . . . and nearly lost.

Harry was suddenly overcome with the magnitude of all that had happened. Abruptly his arms went around Draco's neck as if in reflexive response to an impulse he was scarcely conscious of, and he pressed his face against the side of Draco's face. "We almost lost you," he breathed, agonized, into Draco's hair. An edge of accusation that Harry had meant to keep to himself lay revealed in the sentence, exposed by the tone of his words to hang suspended in the air between them.

"I'm sorry," said Draco, a raw sound like unshed tears in his voice.

Harry heard the tremor in Draco's voice and sat back, blinking, sorry himself, his heart too full of conflicting emotions and his thoughts too jumbled with things that needed to be said but that had to wait, to know what else to say now. He took refuge in remembering what he should be doing. He reached over Draco to pick up the cup of Reviving Potion Madam Pomfrey had filled earlier. "You need to drink this," he said, willing a calm neutrality into his tone. "It tastes terrible, but it helps a lot."

With one arm still around Draco's shoulders, Harry held the cup for Draco, tipping it just enough so that Draco could drink slowly. Draco's eyebrows went down in a frown at the taste, but he didn't argue.

However, Draco had only managed about half of the dose before the screens beside the bed were pushed hurriedly apart and Madam Pomfrey rushed in. "Is he . . . ?" she began, then she stopped mid-sentence in surprise, shocked not only to find her patient awake and sitting up, but Harry in bed with him. "Harry!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper. "What in the world . . . !?"

"I . . . I had to help him sit up," stammered Harry, thinking furiously and blushing, equally startled at being discovered in Draco's bed with his arm around the other boy. He'd completely forgotten about Madam Pomfrey and her Summoning Charm. "He woke up a minute ago," he explained hurriedly, "and . . . couldn't sit up by himself . . . to drink the Reviving Potion." Then Harry saw Draco watching him sidelong, under his lashes; saw the barest hint of an amused smile curl at one corner of Draco's mouth and his heart lightened so suddenly that he had to suppress an inclination to grin.

He took his arm out from around Draco and moved to let Draco lean back against the pillow. "I think he's okay now," he said hopefully, as Madam Pomfrey pressed her fingers worriedly to Draco's wrist to check his pulse and tipped up Draco's chin to look into his eyes. "Isn't he?" he asked, watching intently for her confirmation.

"I'm completely at a loss to explain how, but yes, it would seem so," Madam Pomfrey said, the relief in her voice very audible. "Though I suspect he's going to be rather weak and need to stay in bed for a day or two," she added, fixing Draco with a stern but caring eye. "I don't mind saying you gave us quite a scare, young man."

"Yes, ma'am," said Draco in a very subdued tone, and he looked down contritely. "I'm sorry."

"Never mind being sorry," she scolded gently. "Just drink the rest of that potion now. It will help you get your strength back. Everything else can be sorted out in the morning." She motioned Harry to hand the cup of potion to Draco, but Harry ended up still having to help Draco hold the cup while he finished drinking it.

"I want to do a more thorough check with the Aurascope, but I think that can also wait until morning," said Madam Pomfrey to Harry as he handed her the empty cup. "And I want you," she said to Draco, "to try to get some sleep now."

Draco nodded and he turned to look at Harry, a silent appeal in his eyes.

"If you wake up and need anything," Madam Pomfrey went on, "we'll both be nearby to help. I'll be in my office and Harry just across the room."

"Don't make him go," said Draco softly, reaching out to lay one hand on Harry's arm as if to hold him there. He looked up at Madam Pomfrey. "I don't want to sleep alone."

Harry startled a little at the boldness of this request, and also turned to Madam Pomfrey. "I can put him to sleep," he volunteered, hoping to forestall her answer.

Madam Pomfrey hesitated a moment, looking from one boy to the other, then nodded at Harry, though her expression was frankly perplexed. "Go ahead and use the Sopire Diuturnus Spell, Harry. I want him to sleep through until late morning if possible." She watched while Harry gently helped Draco lie back down and saw their eyes meet with a look that she was at a loss to understand.

And when Harry did the spell, there was such an understated, subtle, but indescribable tenderness to the way he touched Draco that she was moved unexpectedly to smile. Harry did the spell so flawlessly that she couldn't help feeling quite proud of him, even if he had overstepped proper protocol by climbing into bed with his patient.

"Very nicely done, Harry," she said a moment later, when Draco was sleeping peacefully. Then she regarded him more sternly. "And now that he's asleep," she said, "I think an explanation is in order. Will you please tell me what's going on here?" She waved her hand in a gesture that seemed to include not only Draco's recovery, but also Harry's current location in Draco's bed and Draco's hand that still rested with a possessive intimacy on Harry's arm.

"I . . . well, that is, we . . . ," Harry started, feeling his face go warm, knowing he was blushing again. He needed to tell her the truth, but now that he was faced with having to actually do it, how could he explain it? He looked down at Draco's sleeping face and his heart contracted with affection and the smallest bit of lingering fear. It was still only moments ago that he'd been afraid those eyes would stay closed forever. "He is going to be okay, isn't he?" he asked instead.

"With a couple of days rest, I believe he will be perfectly fine. His pulse feels normal and strong now," said Madam Pomfrey, "though when I left to go to bed, I could barely find it." She pinned Harry with a very direct though puzzled gaze. "I can't believe that that somehow happened spontaneously, especially since none of the spells I tried earlier worked. Just tell me what happened, Harry. What did you do?"

Harry took a deep breath. This more specific question he could answer. "I used the wandless healing method you taught me," he said, "and I . . . that is I didn't plan to - it just happened - and it wasn't actually a spell . . . I just thought maybe if he was aware at some level, he might be in pain or scared and I wanted to try to reach him somehow, to let him know he wasn't alone and that I -" The words spilled out in Harry's earnest effort to explain, until he caught himself about to say: I love him. He paused, grasping for a different explanation. "- that . . . that we were trying to help him," he continued after a second.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, though that explanation had made little sense to her. "Go on," she said. "Just take your time and tell me everything from the beginning."

"Okay," said Harry, trying to put his thoughts in order. "I had examined him earlier with the Aurascope like you asked me to," he started. He shuddered a little at the vivid memory of the strangling net of green light that had shrouded Draco's body and of the horrible black wound in the aura over Draco's chest.

"So you saw the terrible damage the Killing Spell had done to his magical aura?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I saw why you said he was still dying."

"Then what did you do?"

"I did the Calming Spell you taught me. And it was while I was doing the spell that I felt him respond a little."

"You felt him respond?" asked Madam Pomfrey, amazed. "How?"

Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember exactly what had happened next, searching for the words to explain it to her. Very quickly, he realized he would not be able to explain it at all without telling her about his relationship with Draco and the way their magic was joining. He gave a small, resigned sigh, then looked up at her, meeting her eyes squarely. "I guess I should explain that Draco and I have been . . . seeing each other," he said slowly. "Not many people know - it hasn't been going on very long."

"Seeing each other?" repeated Madam Pomfrey, not immediately understanding. "You mean . . . romantically?" she asked, her eyes widening first in surprise and then sparking with sudden comprehension as some of the puzzling things she had seen began to make sense.

"Yes," said Harry. "I was planning to talk to you about it anyway after the holidays," he continued, "because something is going on between us . . . with our magical auras . . . that we don't understand. I can see our auras joining, and I can feel him through that connection."

Madam Pomfrey sat down in the chair next to the bed and regarded Harry with interest. "And you think this . . . connection . . . was involved in Mr. Malfoy's healing?" she asked.

"I don't know how else to explain it," said Harry. "But there's more," he added, then hesitated, feeling his face flush with heat at what he was going to have to tell her. "I found out a couple of days ago that I can do wandless magic other than healing," he said self-consciously, his voice quiet, "and without actually using a spell."

"That's a very significant thing to find out," said Madam Pomfrey slowly, but wondering if Harry truly realized how incredibly significant it was.

Harry nodded, grateful for her low-key response. "So, when I felt Draco respond to the Calming Spell," he went on, "I thought maybe it worked because it was wandless healing. I knew the usual spells you'd tried earlier hadn't worked. I also knew I hadn't learned any wandless spells that would help, since they're all so specific. But I was desperate to do something, and when I remembered that I'd done transfiguration magic before with just a thought and not an actual spell, I just reacted. As hard as I could, I pictured him with the all that green light disappearing and the wound gone. I pictured him being healed in my mind and used that visualization to direct the wandless magic." He paused for a second. "And it worked," he said simply.

"And it was an extremely dangerous thing to do, Harry!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. "To try something untested like that, with no one here to back you up in case you got into trouble."

Harry looked away, stung by her sudden scolding, and his eyes fell on Draco, relaxed now in sleep. A little color had returned to Draco's face, but bluish shadows still remained under his eyes. "I had to try," said Harry very softly, fighting back tears that once again welled up from the overload of emotions he felt. "No matter what the risk." He looked back up at her, sniffling quite unheroically. "I . . . I couldn't let him die."

Madam Pomfrey's expression softened considerably. "No, of course you couldn't let him die," she said. "But I'm just thanking all the powers that be right now that what you did worked and that we're not faced with losing both of you. If your auras are connected, you could just as easily have been pulled under the same spell."

She watched Harry nod and impatiently wipe his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve.

"Harry," said Madam Pomfrey gently, "you did an incredibly amazing and wonderful thing, and there's no question that you saved Mr. Malfoy's life tonight. But please promise me you won't be so careless of your own safety again."

Harry sniffled once more and swallowed at the lump in his throat. "I promise," he said. The sudden surge of energy provided by his elation at Draco's recovery was now running thin. He felt overwrought; all the raw emotional ups and downs of the day, as well as the expenditure of his magic in healing Draco, had worn him out, and it was this he knew, not so much Madam Pomfrey's deserved scolding, that had brought back the tears. And the sleep spell he'd put on Draco was probably affecting him, too, because he was beginning to feel drowsy.

But now that he'd told Madam Pomfrey about their auras, he was very curious to know what it meant. "I've never heard of auras joining," he said. "What would cause that?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head with a small smile, stood up and poured the last of the Reviving Potion into Harry's cup, then handed it to him. "Harry, you look done in," she said. "I think you need to finish this. I can make a new batch in the morning for Mr. Malfoy." She ignored his grimace and waited while he drank it. "There's only one reason I can think of," she went on, in answer to his question, "only one type of circumstance, if you want to call it that, where magical auras have been known to be joined. But it's really, well . . . quite rare, and I'd rather consult Professor Dumbledore about it in the morning before we jump to any conclusions. He'll be the best one to help me confirm it or not." Then she looked at Harry questioningly. "Does he know about you and Mr. Malfoy. . . ?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure he does," said Harry, stifling a yawn. He felt much more settled now as the potion took effect, and much sleepier.

"Then tomorrow will be soon enough to sort everything else out," she said. "I dare say you've been through quite enough for one day. A good night's sleep is what you need most."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry wanting nothing better, now that he was reassured Draco would be okay. He shifted down in the bed, getting ready to lie down next to Draco.

"Harry!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. "You can't sleep with him!"

Looking down at Draco's hand still resting on his arm, Harry decided to be assertive. "I want to," he said, "if I may . . . and you know, he asked me to." He glanced back up at Madam Pomfrey. "The truth is," he said, blushing again slightly, "I've done the sleep spell on him before when we've slept together because he has trouble sleeping. And I was . . . well . . . lying here intending to sleep with him tonight when I ended up doing the healing magic . . . because I was afraid to be so far away."

She eyed him sternly. "I don't even want to know how you two managed to arrange to be sleeping together," she said, "but I'm quite certain Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall would not have approved if they'd known. And this is a hospital. It's highly improper. . . ."

Harry met her strict gaze steadily, pouring every ounce of entreaty he could muster into his eyes. "Please," he said. "He seems to sleep a lot better when I'm with him, and I don't think I could sleep at all otherwise. I'd be too worried that he might have a relapse . . . and I wouldn't know."

"I'd much rather you didn't," she said, then paused. "However, since he's under a sleep spell . . . and considering the other circumstances," she said, finally relenting, "I'll allow it. But just for tonight," she added quickly as Harry grinned his thanks.

After she left and turned out the lamps, Harry, at long last, was able to lie down and relax. Draco was going to be fine. The pleasure and relief of that knowledge washed through him in the way a first warm rain washes away the last remnants of winter's ice. He eased down in the bed next to Draco and gently pulled the other boy close, into his arms. Draco stirred in his sleep, not waking but moving to settle into Harry's embrace, his head on Harry's shoulder, one arm going around Harry's waist. Harry sighed, content and grateful for so many things, not the least of which was that this long and horrible day had finally come to an end. He breathed in and out, feeling the glorious, matching rise and fall of Draco's breathing, and let sleep take him.

* * *

Harry woke gradually, stirred slowly out of sleep by the sound of quiet voices close by, his first sensation the awareness of warmth and Draco's soft hair tickling his cheek. Harry recognized Madam Pomfrey's voice.

"Our Harry is an incredibly talented natural healer, Albus," she was saying. "What he did for Mr. Malfoy last night is nothing short of a miracle. I never could have done it. In fact, I don't know anyone who could."

Harry didn't move, but two things suddenly jolted him fully awake. First was the realization that he was in bed, holding Draco in a very intimate manner, and that Madam Pomfrey and the headmaster were standing right there. The second was simply that Draco was there, alive and warm and holding him back. A wave of mixed elation and embarrassment raced through him and he kept his eyes tightly shut, hoping fervently that he would not blush and give away the fact that he was awake and listening.

"But he told me the most puzzling thing last night," Madam Pomfrey continued. "So besides letting you know that Mr. Malfoy appears to be recovering just fine, that's why I asked you to come in so early this morning."

Hazarding a peek, Harry opened his eyes just enough to see Professor Dumbledore turn to look at Madam Pomfrey as she handed him the Aurascope. "As you can see, all the curse damage we observed last night is gone," she went on. "Harry told me that their magical auras were joining. I hardly believed that was likely, but it's true. Their auras are joined - I studied them myself just before you arrived - and the only thing I can think of to explain that is a Magebond. But, of course, given how rare they are, I've never actually seen one. I wanted your opinion of it."

"Ah," said Dumbledore, gazing through the Aurascope. "I couldn't be sure before, but I had suspected this myself. In fact, it was Fawkes that first suggested the possibility to me - perhaps he was even able to see the beginning of the connections between their auras - wonderful birds, phoenixes, you know - but yes, this certainly confirms it. Not only are their auras joined, but if you look closely you can see the small sparks of energy-transference between them where they are touching. That's both of the definitive diagnostic characteristics."

"So it is a Magebond," said Madam Pomfrey. "I just didn't think it could happen between . . . well, that is historically, I've never heard of a Magebond existing between two males. Aren't the pair involved usually lovers?"

"Yes, they always are," said Dumbledore. He lowered the Aurascope and faced Madam Pomfrey. "It's only been known to happen when an exceptionally strong love is shared between the two people involved and is only fully established if the couple become lovers."

"But, Albus," she said, "as far as I knew, Harry and Draco Malfoy were always fighting with each other. Even after what Harry told me last night, that they were seeing each other, I hardly believed. . . ." She paused and turned back to look at the sleeping boys. Caught up in studying them clinically, she hadn't noticed, but now she looked at the way they were lying together, and really saw how they were holding each other. Harry's arms were around Draco as if doing that was something he was deeply familiar and comfortable with, and treasured. Draco's face was turned toward Harry's, his head resting in the hollow of Harry's shoulder, his body nestled against Harry as if even unconscious in sleep, he knew with certainty that he belonged there. Her hand went up to her cheek. "Harry said they had slept together, but I never imagined he meant . . . It must be true, though, that they're lovers."

Dumbledore's bushy silver eyebrows went up and he looked at her over the tops of his glasses. "That would seem to be the most likely explanation," he said, a hint of drollery in his voice. He raised the Aurascope and looked through it again. "Most likely indeed," he added thoughtfully, "especially since there also appears to be a Ti'kira binding between them."

"A Ti'kira binding!? But . . . that's virtually a marriage!" gasped Madam Pomfrey. "Harry said he and Malfoy hadn't even been seeing each other very long . . ."

"A Magebond is virtually a marriage too," said Dumbledore, still looking through the Aurascope. "And if the right combination of energies is present to create it," he added, "it's hypothesized that it only takes a first kiss, perhaps only a shared touch, to trigger the initial stages of aura-joining. Judging from the personal accounts I've read on this subject, the developing Magebond then becomes intensely emotional and immensely compelling. Some Magebonded couples have stated that they could barely tolerate being separated. So once Harry and Draco allowed it to start, it shouldn't be surprising that their relationship naturally progressed quite quickly. I think we may have reason to be thankful that they were at odds with each other for as long as they were. If this had happened when they were younger . . ."

"Oh my, yes," said Madam Pomfrey. "That doesn't bear thinking about."

"The energy-transference sparks are mostly quiescent now while the boys are sleeping, but I believe I can just make out the colors," said Dumbledore. "They appear to be gold and . . . a very clear crystal white. How would you interpret those colors?"

"Diamond and gold . . ." said Madam Pomfrey thoughtfully. "Well, they're both strong, pure elements, though one is hard and the other soft. I would say it indicates that the power between them is evenly matched. Neither is likely to overshadow or break the other. In fact, I think they would be a good balance to each other."

"My thoughts exactly," said Dumbledore, as he handed back the Aurascope. "It appears we are going to have quite an interesting situation here."

Harry smiled secretly into the pillow at that and snuggled slightly closer to Draco. He didn't want them to find out he was awake just yet; he wanted to stay here close, holding Draco for as long as he could, feeling the other boy's strong heartbeat under his hand like a joyous shout. Then suddenly, the sound of the corridor door flying open and swift footsteps approaching caused both Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey to rush out from behind the screens still in place around Draco's bed. Harry cautiously opened his eyes, and through the gap left by the headmaster and the nurse's hasty exit, he could see Professor Snape sweeping across the room toward them, followed closely by Professor McGonagall.

"I'm quite certain I asked you both to meet me in my office . . ." said Dumbledore with a significant pause. He fixed both of the professors in turn with a mildly critical and questioning gaze over the tops of his half-moon glasses.

Snape, clutching a small, crumpled piece of parchment in one raised fist, completely ignored the reproach implied in that pause. "Why wasn't I told about this yesterday?" he demanded. "Why am I only just now finding out that Draco Malfoy was injured and brought here?"

Dumbledore raised his hand for Snape to lower his voice and Harry saw McGonagall eye her fellow professor severely. He wondered if she had tried to stop him from coming.

"I did not tell you until this morning," said Dumbledore very quietly, "because Madam Pomfrey wanted no one else in here. At first the situation was much too urgent, and then she felt that complete quiet was required. I know you care about him, Severus. If there had been anything you could have done, I would have called you immediately. In any case, I intended to let you know first thing this morning."

Snape scowled and folded his arms across his chest, turning his glare on Madam Pomfrey. "May I see him now?" he asked in a terse voice.

"Now is not a good time," replied Madam Pomfrey stiffly. "They're still sleeping."

"They . . . ?"

"Yes. Both Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are still asleep and given what they've been through, I won't have them being disturbed."

"Potter?" snapped Snape. He turned to Dumbledore. "Your note said only that Malfoy was brought in last night from Hogsmeade. What has Potter got to do with it?"

"It's a rather involved story, Severus," began Dumbledore. "Surely we can discuss this over tea in my office . . ."

But Professor McGonagall interrupted. "Is Potter all right, Albus?" she asked, looking worriedly around the room. "And where is he? I don't see any other bed taken . . ."

"They're both there," said Madam Pomfrey, indicating the screened-off bed.

"What!?" Snape's eyes narrowed furiously. "You let them sleep together!?"

"I was not very pleased with the idea myself, last night," said Madam Pomfrey, huffily, "but they both insisted, and well, considering the circumstances we've discovered this morning . . ."

"Circumstances?" hissed Snape, his voice getting louder and angrier. "Circumstances? What circumstances could possibly - "

"Severus," said Dumbledore, "lower your voice. This is not the right place or time. If you'll just come with me, we - "

Snape cut him off. "I will not be shooed off to some piddling tea party, Albus! I want those two separated. Immediately. If Potter was mixed up in this somehow, then I have no doubt it was his fault that Malfoy was injured in the first place. They should never have been allowed to get involved - "

"Severus," repeated Dumbledore, more sternly, "it's much too late for that. You are not in possession of all the facts." He paused. "You see, Draco was a lot more than merely injured. Lucius cast the Killing Curse on him."

There was a shocked silence. "He's dead?" whispered Snape. "I thought you said - "

"He's not dead," said Madam Pomfrey, breaking in irritably, "but that's only because Harry intervened."

Harry heard Professor McGonagall gasp and there was another shocked silence.

"So Potter's dead, then," said Snape acidly. "What did he do - act the hero and step in front of the spell? He would be so stupid."

"No one is dead, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "I only meant that it's much too late to separate them. What they have with each other is very rare - "

"Oh, please," snarled Snape. "Don't tell me you've been taken in by some ridiculously silly romantic notion and fallen for all of their foolish, nonsensical drivel about refusing to stop seeing each other. It just simply can not - it must not - be allowed. It's too dangerous - as this incident proves!"

Dumbledore regarded Snape silently for a couple of seconds, his eyes showing just a hint of amusement. "And just how do you propose we dissolve a Magebond, Severus?" he asked. "Or a Ti'kira binding?"

Snape stared at the headmaster, dumbfounded. "A Magebond?" he managed to choke out finally. "A Ti'kira binding?" He turned slightly green, like he'd swallowed something unpleasantly gristly again. "Malfoy and . . . and Potter?"

"Yes," said Madam Pomfrey decisively. "And it was that Magebond, coupled with the fact that young Harry is a gifted class-seven mediwizard," she added with not a little pride in her voice, "that appear to be the major factors in what saved Malfoy's life."

There was a third shocked silence.

"I need to sit down," said Snape in a faint, strangled whisper.

"Albus, I really think you need to explain what is going on," said McGonagall, her tone strained, bordering on exasperation. "I didn't even know Potter was that advanced in Magical Medicine."

"Which is exactly why I summoned you both to my office this morning," said Dumbledore. "There are plenty of comfortable chairs there," he added, raising one eyebrow at Snape, ". . . and we can all sit down together and talk about the implications of this unexpected occurrence over tea and breakfast." Dumbledore spread his arms and herded Snape and McGonagall toward the door. "I summoned you both there this morning to do just that, because there appears to be many things we need to discuss about the future of these boys."

"I'll be along in a moment," said Madam Pomfrey, heading back behind the screens around Draco's bed.

Harry watched her set the Aurascope back down on the table and sat up, careful not to wake Draco.

"Did you hear any of that, Harry?" asked Madam Pomfrey quietly.

"A little," he said. "I heard something about a . . . a Magebond?"

"I'm certain the headmaster will want to talk to you about that himself, right after we've met with the professors, so I strongly suggest that you get up and get dressed before he comes back." She gathered up the empty potion pitcher and both cups, then turned back to Harry. "After the meeting, I'm going to go down to the dungeons and make up more of the Reviving Potion. I want to be sure Mr. Malfoy drinks a dose of it when he wakes up. Will you be all right here alone for a bit?"

"Sure," said Harry. "Is there anything I should do . . . if he wakes up before you get back?"

"No. Just let him sleep as long as he will, and keep him quiet if he does wake up. I'll have the house-elves bring you up some breakfast."

Harry waited until she left and then got up, easing out of the bed so that Draco wasn't disturbed. He crossed the room and sat on the opposite bed, drawing his feet up and staring absently at the floor, absorbed in thought about the conversation he'd overheard. He'd never heard of a Magebond and had no idea what it was or what it meant, but evidently it was the cause of their auras joining. The sparks he had been seeing between them - energy-transference sparks, as Dumbledore had called them - were part of it, too. And it was, judging from everyone's reaction, something very significant.

A house-elf appeared with a breakfast tray laden with two plates of food and Harry suddenly found he was starving. He ate hurriedly, then dressed, wishing he had clean clothes to put on instead of the damp-feeling, rumpled ones he'd worn yesterday.

Harry had just finishing tying his shoes and stood up to go back to Draco's bedside when the door to the hospital wing opened and Professor Dumbledore came back in. "Ah, Harry," he said. "Precisely the person I wanted to talk to." He came across the room to stand by Harry's bed. "Draco is still asleep?" he asked.

"Yes," said Harry. "I put him under a pretty powerful sleep spell last night."

"Ah," said Dumbledore again. "Madam Pomfrey should be back shortly," he said. "She went to the Potions lab to brew more Reviving Potion, but I suspect now that Severus knows it's for Draco, he will insist on doing it himself." He drew up a comfortable chair out of the air with his wand and sat down, motioning Harry to sit as well.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed and looked expectantly at Dumbledore, both curious and anxious to hear what the headmaster wanted to talk about.

"Madam Pomfrey has told me a great many surprising things this morning," said Dumbledore. "First of which is that you are responsible for Draco's amazing recovery. And second, that you used wandless magic without any spell."

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "But I didn't really know what I was doing. It just happened."

"Yes, she explained that, too, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "Which is why we want you to begin working with Professor McGonagall privately instead of continuing with your regular Transfigurations classes in the next term. Draco will also be asked to attend, since we not only need to determine the extent of this new talent of yours, but you both need thorough training in how to use the Magebond effectively."

"Sir?" interrupted Harry. "What is a Magebond? I know it has something to do with our magic combining, but I've never heard of it before. What does it mean?"

"To put it simply, it's very rare for wizarding folk to be able to combine their magical energies," explained Dumbledore. "When it does happen, we call it a Magebond, and the couple involved are referred to as Mages, but," he cautioned, gazing seriously at Harry, "a Magebond is not a simple thing." He paused a moment noticing Harry's very puzzled expression. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Harry, and as soon as Draco is well enough, I intend to sit down with both of you and explain it in more detail. It's very important that you both understand and learn to handle the magical energies you now share safely. The effect of combined magic can be extremely powerful and without proper control, it can be quite unpredictable. One of you could be critically weakened when the other does magic."

Harry nodded, understanding, remembering how Draco had said he felt drained when Harry had unexpectedly transfigured the snowball into butterflies.

"In the mean time, Harry," Dumbledore went on, "this is something else that we need to keep very strictly to ourselves. As you and I and Arthur Weasley discussed yesterday, it is imperative for Draco's protection that we keep his involvement in his father's arrest as quiet as possible, and the Ministry has agreed to that as well. Most importantly, we must keep the fact that the Killing Curse was used a secret. I explained everything to Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall this morning, and it is essential that no one else be told. Far too many questions would be asked if that was known since Draco is still alive. The last thing we need is to have the Daily Prophet get hold of that story."

Harry nodded, recalling his distressing experiences with Rita Skeeter.

"Arthur contacted me this morning," Dumbledore went on. "Your friends, Hermione and Ron, are begging to be allowed to visit and I took the liberty of giving them permission. Now that Draco's condition is no longer critical, I thought you might like to see them."

"Yes," said Harry. "Thank you, sir."

"But I'm going to ask you not to confide even in them about any of this. And though it's asking a lot of you, that includes keeping the way Draco was healed a secret, too."

Harry gave Dumbledore a relieved smile. "It's not asking a lot," he said. "I really would rather not tell anyone about it yet."

"Very well, then," said Dumbledore, still looking quite serious, but pleased as well. "Now, let me tell you quickly what has happened since last night and let you visit with your friends."

Harry listened to Dumbledore's very brief explanation of the events that had taken place since the confrontation at the Portkey hub, and then the door to the hospital wing opened just a little. Ron cautiously stuck his head in. "Can we come in yet?" he whispered.

Harry nodded but put his finger to his lips to indicate they should be quiet.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore, standing up with a smile and waving away his conjured chair. "Arthur tells me that felicitations are in order."

"Yes, sir," said Ron, his ears turning rather pink. Hermione smiled but her eyes were fixed anxiously on Harry.

Dumbledore rested his hand for a moment on Harry's shoulder. "I'll let you know if there is any more news," he said. With a telling look at Harry to remind him of what they had agreed and a nod to Ron and Hermione, he left.

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione when Dumbledore had closed the door behind him. "We were so worried." She hugged him tightly. Ron had his hands shoved in his pockets as if he didn't quite trust himself not to hug Harry, too. "We wanted to come yesterday after Mr. Weasley told us what happened," continued Hermione, pulling back to look at Harry's face. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm okay," he said. "Now that I know Draco is getting better."

Hermione spoke very softly and earnestly. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Mr. Weasley told us he was almost killed, and that last night they thought he might not survive. Is he really going to fully recover?"

"Yes," said Harry. "It looks like he'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, too," said Ron, "for doubting him. My Dad said Malfoy risked his life to expose his father and that now the Ministry has a very good chance of arresting all of the Death Eaters. He's ecstatic and is talking like Malfoy is some kind of a hero, but . . ." Ron paused, his mouth going tight. "I know what he did was good, but God, Harry, he took an awful risk with you, and I can't like that. I told you I was sure he was up to something. Maybe he wasn't plotting with his father exactly, but he was plotting. So I was partly right."

"Hush, Ron," said Hermione, tugging at his sleeve. "Not now."

But both Harry and Ron ignored her. "I know," said Harry, facing Ron seriously. "He lied to me and he used me." The tone of Harry's voice was laced with a subtle bitter edge. "For a few minutes," Harry went on, "when Lucius Malfoy showed up, I thought you were completely right. I really thought he'd betrayed me just like you said he might. Now . . . well . . . he has a lot of explaining to do." The anger that Harry had been feeling since yesterday surged closer to the surface, but again, he pushed it down, willing it aside for the time being.

"You know he loves you, Harry," said Hermione. "You're not doubting that now, are you?"

"No," said Harry. "This isn't about love; it's about trust. I trusted him and even if he didn't betray me to his father, he did put me . . . both of us . . . in a very dangerous situation. I just need to know that I can trust him again."

Ron shook his head. "Well, if you ask me, trusting any Malfoy is a mistake, so I for one still plan to keep an eye on him. But," he amended quickly, intercepting a very pointed glance from Hermione, "even I have to admit that he's proved which side he's on."

"You'll work it out, Harry," said Hermione, patting his arm. "I'm sure of it. Just give him a chance to explain."

Harry met her concerned gaze steadily. Even with everything Draco had explained in the letter, Harry had been left with many unanswered questions. But he also vividly recalled the joy he'd felt when the Ti'kira binding between them had been restored and he remembered the promises he'd made as Draco lay dying. Whatever you did, whatever happens . . . I'll still love you.

"Of course, we will," said Harry resolutely. "Nothing's changed. We just need to talk, that's all."

Ron turned away as Hermione smiled reassuringly at Harry and his eyes fell on a strange tangle of blackened metal lying on the bedside table. "What was this?" he asked, lifting up Draco's ruined necklace to look at it.

Harry groaned softly and held out his hand. Ron laid it on Harry's palm and Harry closed his hand around it. He couldn't bear to look at it, and somehow he was going to have to tell Draco that it was gone. "That was my Christmas present to Draco," he said quietly. "It was a necklace. Draco was wearing it yesterday when . . ." Harry paused, remembering that he had agreed not to talk about this.

But Ron finished the unspoken sentence. "You mean the spell that wounded Malfoy hit it and . . . did this?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

Ron whistled. "That must have been some nasty kind of Dark Magic."

"Thank goodness you were able to get him to Madam Pomfrey in time," said Hermione, looking grim.

"We barely did," said Harry, and that was the truth.

They were all silent for a moment, then Hermione reached over and touched Harry's closed fist. "Let me see the necklace, Harry," she said gently. "Perhaps it's not completely ruined." Harry shook his head, but opened his hand, and she examined the tangled mess thoughtfully. "Well, I'll start with the simplest question, first," she said. "Have you tried casting Reparo on it?"

Harry glanced up at her, startled, sudden hope leaping up inside him. "No!" he said. "I was too upset. I never thought of it."

"I know an advanced version of the spell. If that doesn't work, nothing will." Hermione pulled out her wand. "May I?"

"Of course, yes!" said Harry eagerly.

"Reficio," she said firmly, with an authoritative flick of her wand.

For a half-second, nothing happened, then there was a shimmering flash of light and a sizzling sound. Harry felt the necklace wriggle in his hand and in the next second it was whole and lying coiled, all smooth sliver and bright crystal, in the palm of his hand.

"Oh, God, Hermione," breathed Harry. "Thank you!"

"It's really beautiful," said Hermione, then she laughed. "It's shaped like your scar, Harry!"

Ron craned over to look. "Hey, I remember seeing those. So that's why you knew about that jewelry shop," he said grinning. He turned to Hermione and took her hand. "Harry went with me to get your ring."

Harry tucked the necklace into his pocket and grinned back as Hermione extended her left hand to show off the pretty ring he'd helped Ron pick out. "Congratulations on making it official," he said, thumping Ron on the back and hugging Hermione. Ron blushed and looked quite pleased with himself.

"I should go back and sit with Draco," said Harry. "I don't want him to be alone when he wakes up."

"We need to get back to the Burrow anyway," said Ron. He rolled his eyes. "Mum has invited all the relatives over this afternoon to announce our engagement."

"We'll be back to visit tomorrow, Harry," added Hermione apologetically. "Will you tell Draco that we're very glad he's safe?" She glanced at Ron expectantly and raised one eyebrow.

"Oh. Right," said Ron, after a second's delay. "Yeah, we're glad."

"Thanks," said Harry with a lopsided smile and Hermione hugged him once more briefly. "See you tomorrow, then." He slipped back behind the screens around Draco's bed as soon as they left. Draco was still asleep, but when Harry sat down carefully on the end of the bed, he stirred. A moment later his eyes fluttered open.

Draco lifted one hand and rubbed his eyes, brushed the hair from away from his face and looked up to find Harry looking back. Their eyes met with questions on both sides. "You are here," Draco whispered. "I wasn't sure . . . if I dreamed it."

"I'm here," echoed Harry. He'd held Draco all night, but now that Draco was awake, Harry felt a distance between them that he didn't know how, or maybe wasn't yet willing, to bridge. His feelings were still so unsettled; he felt suddenly awkward, and made no move to touch Draco. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Draco moved as if to sit up, then winced and laid back. "Like you used that rusty Muggle spoon on me after all."

Harry smiled slightly at that. If Draco could try to be witty, that was a very good sign. "Do you think you can eat something?" he asked. "Madam Pomfrey had some breakfast sent up. She's gone right now to make more of that potion. She wanted you to drink it as soon as you woke up."

"That nasty stuff?"

"'Fraid so."

Harry brought in the breakfast tray and helped Draco sit up, and though Draco's hands were somewhat unsteady, he was able to eat by himself.

"What happened to my father?" asked Draco when he had eaten as much as he could and Harry had set the tray aside. Harry returned to sit at the end of the bed.

"Dumbledore just told me he's being held for the moment at the Ministry," explained Harry, "though he'll be sent to Azkaban once they're through questioning him. Last night they used Veritaserum on him and this morning quietly arrested all the Death Eaters he named. He gave a location for Voldemort, but they didn't find him." Harry paused a moment. "Draco, you should also know - they went through your house last night confiscating papers, and anything else that might be evidence. But Dumbledore made sure they didn't damage anything, for your sake."

"What about . . . my mother?"

"They've taken her to St. Mungo's. Things were pretty crazy at the Portkey hub after your father cast the curse. Everyone there heard it and saw you fall, but then the Aurors were too involved in getting Lucius under control and transported away to see what happened after that. Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley and I were the only ones that knew you hadn't been killed. It was the three of us that brought you back here using our two brooms. Unfortunately though, when the Aurors went to your house . . ."

Draco closed his eyes and his mouth formed a thin tight sorrowful line. "They told her I was dead?"

"Yes. She fainted when she heard what Lucius had done and when they couldn't revive her at the house, they sent her to the hospital. Dumbledore sent private word to the hospital first thing this morning that you'd survived and they think she'll be fine, once she finds out you're alive. But they may keep her there anyway for a while, for protection's sake, at least until all the arrests have been made." Harry could feel Draco's worry tugging at his heart, and tried to sound encouraging. "As soon as you're well, Dumbledore said you can go visit her."

Draco nodded, staring down at his hands, and said nothing for a long moment. Then he sighed unhappily. Finally he looked up, meeting Harry's eyes staunchly, though he seemed guarded. "And what about you?" he said in a voice that shook slightly.

"I'm fine," said Harry, hoping that sounded believable.

But Draco was studying Harry's face intently. "No, you're not," he said at last. "You're angry."

Harry exhaled audibly, vaguely annoyed that Draco would have to see through him just now. "It can wait," he said in a low voice.

"No, it can't." Draco crossed his arms over his chest protectively. "I can feel it. And it hurts. I need to know what it means." He faced Harry with a mixture of appeal and distress and defiance in his eyes. "Yesterday, I thought I would never see you again," he said, "but this hurts worse. To see you and feel this and . . . now you're sitting so far away and I don't know why."

Harry stared at Draco in silence. He hadn't expected to have to talk about this yet. He'd tried to keep these feelings suppressed and hadn't had time to understand himself what he was feeling. Now, faced with Draco's undeniable perception, he had no idea even where to begin.

"Just tell me," said Draco, barely over a whisper, "whatever it is. I need to know."

"When you started this game you played with me," said Harry finally, "you promised you would be honest with me." His voice broke slightly, and he looked down away from Draco. "No one in my whole life, Draco, has ever been as open and honest with me as you were those first days we were together. Or so I thought. I trusted you completely. And then . . ." Harry stopped talking, a terrible lump in his throat. He swallowed and looked back up at Draco.

Draco's head was down, his long blond hair falling forward, covering his eyes.

"And then . . ." continued Harry, his voice becoming increasingly taut as he spoke, "then I find out you lied. That you betrayed my trust in the worst possible way. How did you think I would feel? I don't think angry even begins to describe how I feel right now." Harry saw Draco shrug slightly or perhaps flinch at his words, but he was too upset to stop. "And you didn't expect to have to deal with any of this, did you?" he asked heatedly. "All of that 'Can't it wait until after I come back from the holidays?' crap you said to me. You didn't think you'd have to face any of it. Not me, not Ron, not Pansy, not leaving the Quidditch team in the lurch . . ."

"No, I didn't expect to still be here," Draco said softly, ". . . and I still don't understand . . . I don't know how that happened . . ." He paused, looking up at Harry for a moment through that fine pale fringe, hopeful perhaps that Harry would answer his implied question. But Harry said nothing and he went on. "Right now, I'm just trying very hard not to be terrified that I am." Draco raised his head and pushed his hair out of his eyes with one hand. "I not only betrayed my father," he said gravely, "I took their vows and then betrayed all the Death Eaters. That act carries a death sentence I may not ever feel safe from."

A cold vise seemed to grip Harry's heart. Draco had said something about this in his letter, but Harry hadn't really let it sink in. "You took the Death Eater vows?" he asked now, horrified. "Draco! Did you let them mark you?"

"No," said Draco, his stomach turning at memory of the grisly, repugnant ordeal he'd gone through. "Only Voldemort can make the Dark Mark. My father had planned for that to happen when we took you to him. But . . ." He paused a moment and a shadow of apprehension crossed his face. "I don't know how binding those vows are by themselves. My father said something . . . about them being preliminary vows . . . that would bind me to Voldemort after I took the Dark Mark. Maybe the vows don't have any real power by themselves; maybe the power of the binding is only in the magic of the Mark. But what if they are? What if I am sworn to the Dark Lord now? Either way, they will want to punish my betrayal. That's partly why my father tried to kill me. And why I didn't try to avoid it."

"Then you wanted to die?" asked Harry, shocked.

"No!" said Draco, raising his voice for the first time. "Nothing about this had anything to do with what I wanted. Don't you understand? I was forced into this." He looked away for a moment, getting control again and then went on, his voice still full of emotion. "I was as honest with you as I could possibly be. I never lied to you about my feelings for you. There were just . . . some things . . . I couldn't tell you."

"Why not?" asked Harry curtly. "I don't understand. Why couldn't you tell me?"

"First, because my father is not so easily tricked," said Draco flatly. "You are a terrible liar, Harry. There's no way you could have pretended the look you had on your face in that first moment when you thought I had betrayed you. I knew my father would be waiting for that, would be watching your reaction closely. He would never have committed himself to using the Imperius Curse on you unless he was convinced by your expression that I'd done exactly what I'd been told to do." Draco's chin came up slightly. "And second," he said challengingly, "I didn't think there was any way you'd agree to do it."

"Well, you were certainly right about that," said Harry tersely. "But ignoring for a minute the fact that you did betray me by tricking me into doing what you knew full well I wouldn't have agreed to . . . Even if you couldn't tell me, Draco, you didn't have to do it alone. You didn't have to take such a risk by yourself. You could have gone to Dumbledore and asked for help - "

"No, I couldn't! Do you think for one second that Dumbledore would have agreed to allow me to use you as bait in a trap to catch my father? That anyone would? But you were the only thing my father would have fallen for. I always intended to ask for Dumbledore's help, just as I did - at the last minute - after it was too late for him to stop me."

"God, Draco," said Harry. "That's the whole point! You used me! As bait! And then risked your own life like that - "

"I did what I had to do," continued Draco insistently. "I made sure you would be safe. But my father had to be stopped. He was completely obsessed with the idea of being the one to give you to Voldemort." Draco stared at Harry, increasingly upset now by Harry's continued refusal to understand. "Don't you remember I told you that he had given me an ultimatum over the summer and was forcing me to do something to prove my loyalty? Well, that was it. I was to figure out a plan that would get you captured for him by the end of the school year or he said he would get you anyway and give us both to the Dark Lord! My life was already at risk!"

Draco's last words seemed to echo in the empty hospital ward and both he and Harry sat silent for a long moment.

"I was the only one who knew how determined he was to get you," said Draco, trying very hard to speak calmly again. "The night I first kissed you, I realized that I was the only one who could stop him. That because I loved you, I had to stop him. He gave me no choice. If he had been willing to leave you alone, I never would have done this. But neither of us could ever have had any kind of future, whether we were together or not, as long as he was determined to take you. And I had to make him believe I was on his side until he had implicated himself in front of witnesses or he would have been putting that Imperius Curse on me in private and would have forced me to hurt you. I would rather have died than let that happen."

Harry had been staring down at his hands while Draco talked, but he drew in a sharp breath at that and looked up.

"I didn't have much to live for back when I made up this plan," said Draco more softly. "My father had made it very clear that my only options were to join the Death Eaters or be turned over to the Dark Lord as a traitor. So, willing or unwilling, they intended to use me to get you. Dying seemed my only way out . . . and if I was going to die, I intended to do it with some purpose. After we got involved, of course I didn't want to die. I just didn't think I could be saved. I didn't know anyone would try to."

"Didn't you think I would try to? Or Dumbledore?" asked Harry, though the truth of Draco's words stung. No one had kept him safe.

"I couldn't depend on anyone else," said Draco defensively. "There were too many uncertainties. I was taking a terrible chance as it was, counting on Dumbledore getting my message and arriving in time. And even then, I was only thinking of having him there to be a witness and to make sure you were safe. It wasn't until I arrived at the Portkey hub about five minutes before you did that I found out he'd anticipated the danger I was in and had Aurors stationed there in advance."

Draco looked away from Harry's hard, unyielding expression for a second and took a deep breath. "You have to understand," he said going on resolutely, "that the only thing I was certain of is that I know my father. I knew he'd lash out and try to kill one of us when he realized what was happening, and I couldn't assume that Dumbledore would be able to stop him. As many times as he threatened my life in the last couple of years, I had no doubt he'd go through with it. I just made sure to goad him enough that it was definitely me he was aiming for, not you." He paused, glancing back up at Harry, meeting the angry green gaze levelly. "The entire wizarding world would have been badly demoralized if he had killed you, Harry," he said bluntly, "but I wouldn't have been missed."

Harry made an inarticulate sound. "I would have missed you! Did you really think you could just . . . apologize and . . . and die . . . and I would get over it?" he asked incredulously. "I would have never gotten over it!"

Draco's brave front seemed to crumble at Harry's words, his shoulders sagged and he stared down at his hands, silent for a long moment. "I know," he said finally, quietly. "That's what the apology was for. I just never imagined, when I started this, that you would want . . . us. And it wasn't until you told me about that girl that I realized how much I would be hurting you."

"So your real plan," said Harry tautly, "was to use me to trap your father into getting himself sentenced to life in prison to keep him from hurting me . . . and it didn't matter if you died in the process because you didn't think anyone would care. Is that it?"

"Essentially, yes," said Draco with a weary sigh. He looked up at Harry, sadness creeping into the straight line of his mouth.

"Draco, what you planned would have hurt me even if I'd never started to love you!" said Harry, barely containing his need to yell this. "God, it would have hurt me even if I'd never known you. I don't want anyone . . . else . . . to die for me!"

"But people will die in this war, Harry," replied Draco softly. "Including people you love. Either one of us could still die. You must know that."

"I do know that! That doesn't mean I want to accept it," said Harry furiously. "Bloody hell, Draco! I don't know what I'm more angry about - that you used me like this or that you deliberately took such a terrible, idiotic, thoughtless chance with your life!"

"I did what I believed I had to do," repeated Draco in a very low, hurt voice. Underneath the sadness in Draco's mist-gray eyes there was still a grim determination that reminded Harry of steel. "I promise you it was anything but thoughtless. But if you want to think it was reckless and stupid and . . . and hate me for it, then that's no more than what I expected."

A wave of heat crossed Harry's face and he sat staring at Draco, speechless.

In the long moment of silence that followed, they heard the door to the corridor open and close. A few seconds later Madam Pomfrey, carrying a pitcher of freshly made Reviving Potion and a cup, came in between the screens around Draco's bed.

"Awake then, I see," she said cheerfully to Draco. "How do you feel?"

"Okay, mostly," said Draco in a tight voice. "Pretty weak. And it hurts . . . here." His hand pressed a spot in the center of his chest.

Harry stood up abruptly.

"Well, that's probably to be expected," said Madam Pomfrey, "as that was the entry site of the curse. The pain should go away in a day or two, but I'm afraid you're going to have a small curse scar there." She poured a cupful of the potion and held it out to Draco. "Here. This will do a lot to help the pain and weakness."

But Draco didn't take the cup. At the mention of the curse scar, his hand had traveled up an inch or so to just below his collarbones and he'd glanced up at Harry with a stricken look in his eyes.

"I have to go," said Harry.

Madam Pomfrey turned to look questioningly at Harry.

"I . . . I need to go back to my room and . . . change clothes," said Harry. "I just . . ." All at once everything had become overwhelming, and he'd had enough. Enough of wearing dirty clothes. Enough of being in the hospital wing. Enough of Draco. "I just have to go," he said again softly, and fled.

"Well, that seemed a bit sudden," said Madam Pomfrey, still holding the cup. She looked down at Draco and saw that his face had gone even paler than it had been a moment ago. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm afraid he's rather . . . upset . . . with me," replied Draco, staring into the empty space where Harry had been. His hand was still at his throat, lying empty and bereft over the spot where Harry's beautiful gift had once hung.

"I can't say that I blame him, you know," she said. "Not after what you put him through yesterday and last night." She held out the cup again. "Here now," she said. "Drink this down. I'm sure it will all come right, you'll see."

Draco's hands trembled slightly as he took the cup from Madam Pomfrey. He took a tiny sip and gave a small, involuntary shudder at the taste. "No, it won't," he said, rather mournfully. "He hates me again."

Madam Pomfrey laughed a short, light laugh. "I'm quite certain that's not the case," she said. "I think it's more likely that he's just now reacting to the terrible fright you gave him. He's been far too busy taking care of you to let himself think about it before now." She shook her head at Draco's sorrowful expression, but smiled kindly. "Come on now, drink that. You'll feel a world better for it."

Draco took a deep breath and drank it down quickly. It tasted positively vile, but warmth and strength flowed into him as it went down. "Did he really stay . . . to take care of me?" he asked, as he handed the empty cup back.

"He did a lot more than that, dear," said Madam Pomfrey.

A faint flush of color crept back into Draco's face at the unexpected endearment, and he looked up at the nurse, his heart in his eyes. "Will you tell me what happened?"

* * *

Harry raced back to the Gryffindor dorm, his feet pounding down the deserted corridors and up the empty staircases, his heart pounding, too, as loud in his ears as his running footsteps. He'd known the instant Draco had realized the necklace was missing. A wrenching, sinking feeling of loss had swept through him just before Draco had looked up with confusion and grief in his gray eyes, and Harry had suddenly needed to get away. He needed to be out of the hospital wing, he needed space, he needed time to think. The fact that he was also badly in need of a shower and a change of clothes really had nothing to do with it.

The Fat Lady looked startled as he ran up, and Harry gave a second's thought to the fact that she hadn't seen him since Christmas Eve. "Plum pudding," he said quickly, giving her no time to comment on it. He went straight to the boy's bathroom, stripped off the clothes he'd been wearing since yesterday and got in the shower. The hot water felt good; it could have been calming if he'd let it, but he didn't. Instead he soaped and rinsed as quickly as he could and got out. Then, with a towel wrapped around his waist, he gathered up his clothes and went to his dorm room. He dropped his dirty clothes on the floor by the end of his bed and put on clean clothes from his trunk. Finally, he sat down on the side of his bed, his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head down into his hands. His damp hair, which he hadn't even bothered to comb, stuck out haphazardly between his fingers. All the thoughts, fears and emotions he'd held at bay since yesterday came tumbling and crashing into his mind.

He was furious with Draco for so many reasons: for putting him in jeopardy, for risking his own life, for planning something like that so secretly, for putting him through such a scare and emotional turmoil, and most of all, for refusing to admit he'd been wrong to do it. Harry recalled what he had said to Hermione: "Nothing's changed. We just need to talk, that's all." Well, they had talked and though Harry hadn't expected that talk to be so soon or so volatile, nothing had changed. Harry wanted Draco back in his arms, wanted to talk to him softly and laugh with him and look in his eyes. He wanted to hold him and kiss him, all with an intensity that easily rivaled his anger. So why did I walk out? he asked himself angrily.

He exhaled a long breath and laid back on the bed, trying to put his emotions into some kind of understandable order. Maybe all he needed was the time to be alone long enough to sort everything out in his mind. The most obvious thing he felt was the anger - for all the reasons he'd told Draco - but underneath that anger was a seemingly bottomless well of fear and uncertainty. Harry felt very badly shaken. Breaking up with Cho so suddenly had not even come close to ripping his world apart the way Draco's dying would have.

Draco's near-death had violently catapulted Harry's awareness of their vulnerability, of their frail precarious futures, out from that nebulous, shadowy, unknown time-yet-to-come which Harry had much preferred to ignore into the very immediate present. Was he going to have to live every day faced with the imminent prospect that it could be their last together? That idea was more unsettling than anything else he felt. He'd completely given his heart - that wasn't something he could easily take back - but how could he stay in a relationship that he knew might irrevocably shatter his heart at any unforeseen moment?

Yet, how could he not, when separation from Draco was unthinkable? Even now, as angry as he was, the distance between them gnawed at him with a kind of restless ache that was drawing him inexorably back. He'd known the risks from the first, and thought he was willing to take them . . . but now, suddenly, everything felt so much more perilous and unpredictable. And to have Draco treat the prospect of his own death so lightly, so carelessly. . . . It was like a slap in the face. Would he do it again? Could Harry ever really trust him not to?

Harry remembered the times he'd tried to talk to Draco about his hopes and plans for the future, only to be told, "I try not to think about the future." Harry finally understood the reason behind Draco's previous reluctance, but how did Draco feel now? That night, after they'd danced the Ti'kira, Draco had said, "I can't imagine I would ever want anything else." Was that still true? Would Draco still want a future with Harry now that he was free of his father? Harry hadn't given him a chance to say and that, too, was deeply unsettling.

Another thing that bothered him, Harry acknowledged, was simply that Draco had felt his anger so acutely. Harry was used to keeping things to himself until he was ready to talk about them. Having Draco as someone to talk to, someone who would keep things private between them, had been immensely appealing. But there had still been an element of privacy in that. If he didn't want to talk about something, he could keep it to himself, and so far, Draco had been very respectful of that. But the idea of having no emotional privacy at all had badly unnerved him.

He hadn't wanted Draco to know he was angry - at least, not yet. Not first thing this morning when Draco was just waking up, barely recovered from an almost fatal injury. It made Harry feel rather mortified that he'd subjected Draco to such a barrage of questions, quarreling with him before they'd even touched each other again. He certainly hadn't done a very good job of keeping Draco quiet as Madam Pomfrey had asked.

He wondered if Draco could feel what he was feeling now. And if he let himself relax and concentrated, would he know what Draco was thinking or feeling right now? Somehow this felt like very private eavesdropping and Harry didn't like it. The . . . Magebond . . . if indeed that's what was allowing them to feel each other's emotions so vividly, was going to take a lot of getting used to.

On the other hand, thought Harry with a very fleeting smile, the experience of sharing Draco's feelings when Harry did the magic, or especially during their lovemaking, had been exquisite. This connection they shared, might be occasionally uncomfortable, but it was also incredible and breathtaking and not something he would ever share with anyone else. Even Dumbledore had said how rare it was. . . . And that thought only served to emphasize how irreplaceable Draco was in his life.

Thinking again of the necklace, Harry got up and found his jeans in the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. Gently, he took the necklace from the pocket where he'd put it while talking to Hermione and Ron, and laid it across the palm of his hand. It gleamed softly in the sunlight from the window by his bed, smooth silver and bright clear crystal. Hermione's spell had worked perfectly. To see it now, no one would ever know it had been blackened and mangled, nearly destroyed, and Harry was very glad that Draco would never have to see it that way. But Draco's stricken look, when he'd realized the necklace was gone, came back to Harry forcefully and he regretted allowing Draco to be hurt that way. Carefully, he folded the necklace and tucked it into the pocket of the jeans he was wearing. Very soon, he told himself, he would see it safely back around Draco's neck where it belonged.

Harry bent and picked up his shirt from the floor and took the two letters, one from Cho and the other from Draco, out of the chest pocket. Cho's letter he tucked into the pocket of the shirt he was wearing, briefly acknowledging that he still needed to talk to Draco about that.

Going back to the bed, he unfolded Draco's letter and sat down to read it again. The tone of it was so much more apologetic than Draco had been this morning. Draco, Harry saw now as he read, had been sorry for what he was doing. Very sorry. But Harry's anger had put Draco on the defensive this morning and Draco, Harry knew, was not ever going to back down from him just because he was angry about something. Harry wished now that he had insisted on waiting to talk until he'd been able to sort out his emotions. He really hadn't intended to let things get so out of hand, but once he'd started, the anger had gotten the better of him.

Harry reread the paragraph that had upset him so much last night:

I tried not to think about dying, about never being with you again, but it was tearing me up to know that that was what would probably happen and that you might hate me when it was over. Harry, please try to understand. Please don't hate me for wanting you to love me, for wanting to be with you, even when I knew it would end.

Oh, God. Harry felt those words crash like an immense weight smashing into his heart as he recalled what Draco had said to him this morning: "But if you want to think it was reckless and stupid and . . . and hate me for it, then that's no more than what I expected." Last night, when he'd first read those words, they had brought him to tears to think that Draco would believe he could hate him. But Harry was forced to see that, this morning, he had acted exactly as Draco had feared. And he was horrified to think that Draco was most likely down in the hospital wing right now convinced that Harry hated him.

I always knew my death was inevitable - my father would have killed me eventually, because I would have denied him the loyalty he demanded and refused to help him give you to the Dark Lord. But my worst fear was that he would somehow force me to do it anyway. I could not have lived with the knowledge that my father had hurt you, or worse, used me to hurt you.

Draco had pretty much said the same thing this morning and Harry, too distracted by his own anger, hadn't fully heard it. But now, reading it in the letter again, he recalled something Ron had told him days ago.

"I don't think you get it," Ron had said. "Even if he didn't want to, don't you realize that they could make him do it? You're not safe with him. And I hate to say it, but if he's not on their side, then he's not safe with you either. What do you think they'll do to him, after they've used him to get to you?"

A deep sinking feeling filled Harry's stomach. He shuddered at the thought of what could have happened to both of them if Draco hadn't gone against his father and finally acknowledged the horrendous choice that had been thrust on Draco. Draco had been put in a no-win situation in every way and had done the best he could.

"I did what I believed I had to do," Draco had said, and Harry finally heard not just the commitment in those words but the desperation behind them. Draco had been forced to choose the unthinkable and had stood strong even though it denied him everything he wanted. He'd chosen to protect Harry over having Harry, even over his own life. Harry suddenly felt an tremendous sense of admiration for what Draco had done, for the choice he'd made and the strength with which he'd persisted regardless of all the pain he'd obviously felt.

Harry remembered standing in the Portkey hub, facing Draco and knowing with bone-wrenching certainty that he had to have faith in Draco, had to trust him even when everything seemed to cry out that he shouldn't. He'd believed Draco then, and with a rising ache in his throat he realized he could not stop trusting Draco now. With a sudden sense of urgency, Harry reached for his shoes. He needed to get back to the hospital wing.

He'd gotten only one shoe on when there was a frantic tapping at the window near his bed. Harry looked up, puzzled, and saw something small and gray fluttering outside the glass. Pigwidgeon? Sure enough, when Harry opened the window, the tiny owl swooped in and whizzed madly about, circling his head. A small letter dropped to the floor at Harry's feet, actually it landed on his bare foot, and with an excited twitter, Pig whizzed back out the window and was gone.

Harry scooped up the letter and opened it, surprised to find it was from Ginny.

Dear Harry,

Hermione and Ron just got back and said that you're okay and that Malfoy is recovering. After what Dad told us last night, I was so scared for you and for him, and I felt terribly guilty. Ron may never quite stop being suspicious of Malfoy, but I'm sorry now for doubting him. I would have felt horrible if he had died. Dad says that he risked his life to turn his father in to protect you - and that he said in front of all of them that he loves you. I know I told you that he was going to have to prove that he deserves your love. I just wanted you to know that I think he did. I am so glad you have him, Harry. You deserve to have someone love you that much.

Love, Ginny

Harry read the short note through twice and smiled at the way Ginny had over-romanticized the situation, but he was also very touched. To have her acceptance meant a lot to him. And to have Mr. Weasley's support of Draco was entirely unexpected and very, very welcome. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been like parents to Harry, and Ginny's assertion that they would be terribly upset by his relationship with Draco had been a lingering, troubling thought in the back of his mind. But if Ginny and Mr. Weasley could accept and forgive Draco, Harry suddenly wondered what he was doing up here in his dorm room when Draco was in the hospital wing all alone.

Harry jumped up, hurriedly tossed Ginny's letter on the bedside table, then refolded Draco's letter and put it in his pocket. They might still disagree about the wisdom of what Draco had done - and the fact that they loved each other, Harry knew, certainly didn't mean they would suddenly start to agree about everything - but Ginny was right. Draco did deserve his love; he did not deserve to be left alone, believing Harry hated him. Hastily, Harry scrambled to get his other shoe on, then bolted out of the dorm room, banging the door sharply behind him.

* * *

Harry clattered down the tower stairs, taking them two at a time, and was halfway across the common room headed for the portrait hole when he was brought abruptly to a halt by the very unexpected sight of Professor McGonagall standing by the fireplace.

"Potter," she said in a clipped tone. "I'd like a word with you."

"But . . . I . . ."

"Now," she said in a voice that allowed no argument. She motioned to one of the chairs near where she stood.

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry and sat.

"I don't know whether to be enormously proud of you or shocked beyond belief. I'm appalled that you went to meet Malfoy - without telling anyone, without any thought to what you'd been warned about. My God, Potter, what were you thinking?"

Harry opened his mouth, but she waved her hand dismissively, which was just as well since he really had no answer.

"Never mind," she said tartly. "Don't answer that. It's quite clear that you were not thinking at all." She paused, her lips pressed in a tight disapproving line. "Do you have any idea where you would be right now if Draco Malfoy had not been acting against his father?"

Harry bit down on his lower lip and looked away, staring into the cold, empty grate of the fireplace. Heat spread up from his collar to the tips of his ears and he shuddered at the thought of what would have happened to him under Lucius Malfoy's control. "I know," he said after a long moment of silence. And it occurred to him then that this was another reason he'd been so angry. Draco had scared him badly in this way too - that he'd trusted someone only to find that he could have been so easily tricked, could have been just a hair's-breadth away from the most awful betrayal imaginable. It was an extremely disturbing and unpleasant thought. It almost made Harry vow on the spot never to go outside the castle again.

Going to the Portkey hub had been a very stupid thing to do, and yet, his trust in Draco had not, as it turned out, been misplaced. Harry looked back up at Professor McGonagall. "I know I shouldn't have gone, but I knew I could trust Draco. I could feel it," he said. "And I wasn't wrong," he added quietly.

"Whether Malfoy was trustworthy or not is beside the point," said Professor McGonagall fiercely. "The fact that this whole fiasco somehow miraculously turned out . . . for the best . . . is also not the point. I trusted you not to do something so incredibly foolish. You both came very close to being killed!"

"I know," said Harry again, miserably. The vehemence of her words ripped away the last small bit of self-assurance he'd managed to hold on to. He understood, though, that she was angry at him for the very same reasons he had been angry with Draco - from the shock and fear of what had almost happened, and that it was because she cared. "I'm really sorry," he added in a very quiet, repentant voice.

"Good," she said, crossing her arms, "because you're going to sit right here for the next two hours and think about how sorry you are."

Harry looked up at her, scarcely believing what he'd just heard. Two hours?! "But what about Draco . . ." he started and trailed off at her stern expression.

"Don't think Malfoy is going to get off," she said firmly. "As soon as he is properly recovered, Professor Snape will deal with him as he sees fit. You will both be put on detention for a week and neither of you may leave the castle grounds without permission from the headmaster."

"That's not what I meant," protested Harry. "He's alone in the hospital wing and I was on my way down to be with him right now."

Professor McGonagall's expression softened a little at Harry's distressed face. "I just came from there, looking for you," she said, "and he was fine. Madam Pomfrey is there if he needs anything." She paused. "I don't think it will hurt either of you to spend a couple of hours apart thinking about what a dangerous, foolhardy thing you did."

But we just spent two days apart! thought Harry helplessly. His need to see Draco suddenly became overwhelming. If he hadn't let his anger get the better of him. . . . But McGonagall was not going to give in on this and he knew it. He slumped down in the chair, defeated. "Yes, ma'am," he said in a very low voice.

She nodded at him, relenting finally. "I am proud of you, Potter," she said in a gentler tone. "We are all grateful beyond words that you were able to save Malfoy's life." She paused, eyeing him more kindly. "Have you had any lunch?" she asked.

"No," said Harry, feeling very empty.

Pulling out her wand, McGonagall conjured a plate of ham and chicken sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice on a floating tray next to Harry's chair. "Two hours," she repeated, walking toward the portrait hole. "Then you may go."

Harry sighed as he heard the portrait close behind her. A week of detention for both of them. His lovely idea of spending the next week before the new term started lazing about with Draco evaporated. And Draco was alone right now wondering if Harry hated him. Harry sighed again, picked up a sandwich and munched on it halfheartedly. He felt completely wretched and very, very sorry. It wasn't going to take him two hours to figure that out.

* * *

Draco, too, was feeling very, very sorry. The nurse had done her best to reassure him about Harry, and Draco had allowed himself to hope just a little, but she had also informed him in detail what he had put Harry through. Then both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall had come in to see him, though McGonagall had left almost immediately after finding out Harry wasn't there. Snape, however, had lectured him quite thoroughly and let him know that he and Harry were not to leave the castle grounds and that there would be detentions to look forward to when he was recovered. None of that had done anything to make him feel better.

Now, he sat in his hospital bed alternately reading the book Madam Pomfrey had given him to study and finding himself staring at it, not reading at all, his mind having wandered off. Draco hadn't expected to actually have to deal with Harry's outrage over what he had done. Of course he'd known Harry would be justifiably furious, but this morning, having to face Harry's angry questions and accusations had made him defensive. What Madam Pomfrey had told him had made him feel very small and quite deserving of that outrage, and had left him feeling more desolate and doubtful than ever.

He felt raw inside and more than anything he wanted Harry's touch. Did he even dare hope that Harry would forgive him and want him again? He needed to feel Harry's arms around him, to feel that profound sense of comfort only Harry could give him. His memories of last night were very hazy, but he did remember that Harry had been in bed with him and had hugged him desperately when he'd first regained consciousness. He even had a fleeting memory of waking slightly during the night to find Harry asleep with him, holding him. But these memories did little to soothe him now or diminish the deep empty longing that sat like a heavy lump in his heart.

After a bit, Madam Pomfrey stuck her head back in to check on him and a little while later a house-elf brought him a lunch tray. Draco picked at the food, his appetite gone, wishing Harry was there to eat with him. But there was no sign of him. Turning back to the book, Draco tried to read another page. If his thoughts had not been in such a turmoil, he would have found it quite interesting. But even reading this book had everything to do with Harry, and his concentration faltered again.

He found himself thinking back to the first night Harry had come to his room, of how Harry had said, "I can stand up to a lot worse than that from you, Malfoy." That statement had meant the world to him. And the night after that, he remembered how Harry's kindness and understanding, his gentle words and touch had broken through all the walls Draco had built around his heart. There was no person, no event in his life that came close to matching the impact Harry had had on him. Until his relationship with Harry, he had never truly realized how profoundly, terribly alone he had been, and he did not want to find himself there again.

Harry had put up with so much from him, had already forgiven so much - had weathered his storms. Now it was Draco's turn. Harry had every right to be furious with him, and Draco was just going to have to wait this storm out as dutifully and respectfully as possible. He smiled wryly to himself. If he and Harry were actually going to be together, weathering storms was probably going to be a common occurrence - for both of them.

But - if? God, how could he even think if? Now that he had lived through this terrible ordeal his father had forced on him, he couldn't imagine going forward without Harry. He'd been afraid to let himself wish for that future before, but now he was alive and he knew he didn't want anything else. If he survived, but lost Harry . . . well, that was simply unthinkable. He couldn't bear the thought that Harry might not love him any more. He had to believe that Harry was still the same boy who could be understanding enough to stand and knock at a door slammed in his face; that same boy who had said, "I love you," with words, with his eyes, with his stirring magical touch. He had to have faith in that.

Draco sighed and picked up the book again. He managed to read several pages by keeping focused on how important this book was to the new future he wanted when he heard the corridor door open. He froze, listening intently. Soft footsteps came across the floor toward his bed, and he felt his heart skip a beat, recognizing the sound of those footsteps. Staring at the book, not even pretending to read, he waited.

* * *

When Harry walked back into the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was not out in the ward so Harry assumed she was in her office. The room was completely quiet and he wondered if Draco was asleep. But when he slipped behind the screens around Draco's bed, he found Draco was sitting up, leaning against a stack of pillows, looking at a book.

Draco glanced up and immediately set the book aside. The look in his misty gray eyes was withdrawn and sad, though a tiny flicker of hope had kindled at the sight of Harry's face.

"Hey," said Harry very softly, standing just inside the screens.

"Hey," echoed Draco. The awkwardness Harry was feeling was very apparent and Draco looked down after a few seconds, determined to wait, to be calm, and to let Harry say whatever he needed to. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest; he wasn't used to holding himself so open and vulnerable for anyone. It was hard, and it hurt. But this was Harry and he had to.

Harry hesitated a moment more. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wanted to come back sooner but McGonagall made me sit up in the Gryffindor common room for two hours to think about what a stupid thing I'd done." He'd intended to talk more, but Draco's downcast eyes and sad expression yanked urgently at his heart, sparking an intense longing he was powerless to resist. He remembered how yesterday afternoon he had held on so carefully, desperately, to that precious fragile connection between them, frantic to keep it safe, and he realized that he held their future in his hands now in much the same way. Apology was evident in every line of Draco's body and Harry's heart turned over. Whatever remnant of his anger was still left, melted away in an instant. He took the two steps that brought him to the side of the bed, sat on the edge close to Draco and laid his hand on Draco's wrist.

Draco looked up and their eyes met. A thousand things were said in that one instant of eye contact and Harry's arms went around Draco's neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. His own need for this was so strong and he realized that the words he'd said, Whatever you did, whatever happens . . . I'll still love you, was not so much a decision or even a promise, as it was an imperative command of his innermost self. He could not possibly stop loving Draco now, or stop wanting him. They belonged to each other in the most elemental way. Whatever pain or happiness their future entailed, however short or long, Harry knew they had to be together.

Draco's arms came up around Harry's back and he dropped his head down on Harry's shoulder, his face against Harry's neck. For a long time neither of them spoke, letting the heartbeats that echoed between them speak for them, then Draco lifted his head and whispered in Harry's ear.

"I haven't lost you, then?"

"No," whispered Harry back. He lifted one hand and smoothed the hair down the back of Draco's neck. "I just needed some time . . . to sort myself out," he said.

"And?"

"I promised you forever, remember?"

Draco pulled back to look into Harry's eyes, velvet gray meeting vivid green with candid, searing honesty. "I remember," said Draco.

"And you promised me that, too," said Harry softly. And though he meant not to, a bit of gentle accusation came through the tone of his voice. This was the crux of everything he had been upset about. "Draco," he said earnestly, "I need to know that you meant that. That you won't do this - that you won't go off secretly and risk your life again. I . . . have to know . . . I won't lose you like that."

Draco looked steadily into Harry's eyes. "I've always only depended on myself," he said quietly. "I never trusted anyone; I never wanted to have to need anyone else." He paused. "But I need you," he said in a hushed voice. "I need you so much it scares the hell out of me." He took a deep breath. "So, can you promise me that you won't do that either? That you won't disappear one day without warning, that the Dark Lord won't take you, or that you won't die in this war?"

"No," said Harry, his voice low. "You know I can't."

Draco nodded and sighed. "I don't think either of us can promise the other that," he said. "I can promise you that I want to be with you; that I want that future you were wishing for - that I want every minute of every day with you for as long as we can be together."

"That's enough," whispered Harry and he leaned forward to kiss Draco.

There was a tentativeness in Harry's kiss that Draco felt keenly, but there was also tenderness and forgiveness in it, and apology, and the exploration of a new kind of trust, a trust that accepted uncertainty. Draco held on tightly and kissed back, his heart thrilling with the quiet, profound knowledge that they were both alive, he had not lost Harry, that it seemed they might have a future after all.

Harry pulled out of the kiss gently. He was smiling. "I have something that belongs to you," he said, and went up on one knee so that he could reach into his pocket. He took Draco's necklace from of his pocket and held it out, then laid it gently in Draco's hands.

"I missed this," said Draco, cradling it carefully. "I thought it had been lost . . . or worse," he added softly.

"It almost was," said Harry.

Draco held it out, handing it back. "Will you put it on me?"

Harry took it and undid the clasp and reached around Draco's neck to fasten it. His fingers traced the chain back down and he laid his hand lightly against Draco's chest, next to where the gleaming pendant hung. "Does it still hurt?" he asked.

"Not so much, now," said Draco. "It's a lot better. But . . . I'm going to have a scar. Madam Pomfrey put something on it while you were gone, to numb it and make it heal faster."

Nodding, Harry undid the top two buttons on Draco's pajama top to look. Just under the place where the pendant lay, the skin of Draco's chest was marked with a pale red zigzagged gash. It wasn't lightening-shaped like Harry's scar; it was more like a slightly skewed letter M. Harry was suddenly amused to think that Draco was going to be marked with his own last initial. He looked up at Draco and grinned. "The girls are really going to want to sleep with you now," he teased. "Scars are irresistible, you know."

Draco sniffed disdainfully. "Unlike some people," he said, refastening his buttons, "who shamelessly flaunt their scars by wearing them around on their foreheads, I don't intend to let anyone see mine."

Harry laughed, and it felt great to laugh. Somehow things had eased back into being normal again, and that felt wonderful. "What were you reading . . . when I came in?" he asked, seeing the edge of the book poking up from the blanket on the other side of Draco's leg.

Draco picked up the book and held it so Harry could see the cover.

"Hey," said Harry, surprised. "That's my text book for Magical Medicine."

"It is not," replied Draco with a smug possessive air. "It's mine. Madam Pomfrey said I could come to class with you, that is . . ." He paused. "That is, if you don't mind," he continued earnestly. "I thought if we were going to be working together, I should know more about it."

"Draco, that's fantastic!" exclaimed Harry. "Of course I don't mind." He broke out in a huge grin. "You really are planning to work with me?"

"I said I wanted to, didn't I? If I could." Draco raised one pale eyebrow and gave Harry an arch look. "Madam Pomfrey seemed quite relieved to find out that you weren't going to be doing your own potion-making."

Harry just grinned, too excited to take offense, and anyway, he knew that Draco was teasing. "That'll make two classes we'll have alone together," he said. "Dumbledore told me this morning that we're going to be dropping our separate Transfiguration classes and taking private classes together with McGonagall."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure," said Harry slowly. "It has to do with something they called a Magebond - that we need proper training with it. Dumbledore is going to talk to us about it later."

"A Magebond!" Suddenly, the little bit of color Draco had regained drained from his face and he looked shocked. "Us?"

"That's what Dumbledore said this morning. He also said we shouldn't tell anyone about it." Harry noticed how pale Draco had gone. Why?" he asked, suddenly worried. "What's wrong?"

Draco seemed unable to speak for a moment. Then he whispered, "God, Harry."

"What?" asked Harry, becoming increasing alarmed. "What does it mean?"

"It's a . . . binding of one person to another physically and emotionally through their magic . . . but . . . when you said you saw our magical auras joining . . . I never thought. . . ." Draco looked ashen. "It's an irreversible life-bond, Harry. In the wizarding world it's treated even more seriously than a marriage, because it's so rare." His voice trailed off and he stared at Harry, visibly shaken. "God," he said, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry."

"You're . . . sorry?" whispered Harry.

"With our magic connected, if I had died, you might have too. What I planned could have killed you too!"

"It nearly did," said Harry solemnly. "I felt the curse, Draco - everything went black, my heart stopped and I couldn't breathe. We shared it between us. But I think that's also what kept you alive. The spell you put on my ring drew some of the power of the curse away, and . . . this might have helped, too." He reached out and brushed his fingers over Draco's necklace. "But then I could breathe again and I felt you leaving me . . . and I couldn't let you go. I don't know how . . . but I just held on."

Draco nodded, his eyes serious. "The last thing I remember," he said quietly, "was seeing the Portkey hub lit up with red and green light. I thought maybe the Aurors' Stunning Spells interfered with my father's curse and that Madam Pomfrey healed me. But she told me what you did." Draco reached out and took Harry's hand, lacing their fingers together. "I don't know what to say, Harry. I owe you my life."

"No more than I owe you mine," said Harry firmly. "If you hadn't gone against your father like you did . . ."

". . . we might both be dead," said Draco, finishing the sentence somberly. He looked up and saw the concurrence in Harry's eyes and knew that finally Harry truly did understand. And then another thought broke through like a startling, joyous revelation - if they were Magebonded . . . "You really want to be with me," he said, as if somewhat astonished. There was no hint of a question in his words, rather it was a statement, a declaration of simple fact, and suddenly belief shone, brilliant, in Draco's eyes. "You really do love me," he said in a breathless whisper.

"I really do," said Harry with a light laugh. "I keep telling you that."

"Don't stop," murmured Draco, as his lips met Harry's.

And Harry wasn't sure if Draco meant don't stop loving me or don't stop telling me you love me, but it didn't matter because Draco was kissing him with an intensity that sent shock waves through him. And suddenly Harry couldn't hold him tight enough, or close enough, or kiss him deeply enough or touch enough of him. His hands had just found their way under Draco's pajama top, palms skimming over soft skin, exploring the enticing curves of Draco's back -

A loud, startling crash from right next to the bed caused the boys to jump apart. Harry turned around to see Madam Pomfrey standing just inside the bedside screens with a mixture of surprise, embarrassment and annoyance on her face. In her arms was a stack of books, two of which were now on the floor, having slid off the top of the pile due to her abrupt halt at the sight of what she'd walked in on. She paused a moment more, collected herself, then set the books she was holding on the chair. Scooping up the books that had fallen to the floor, she turned to Draco with a knowing look. "So," she said. "Was I was right?"

"Yes," said Draco, giving her a slow smile. "Exactly right."

"Well, then," she said, setting the fallen books back on top of the stack, "perhaps you won't be needing these right now after all. But," she added, her voice implying a question, "if you are going to study Magical Medicine with Harry, you'll need to read them."

"I'll help him get caught up," volunteered Harry.

"Good," said Madam Pomfrey, turning then to Harry. "I'm glad to know you're amenable to that." Then she fixed him with a teasing twinkle in her eye. "And if you can stop molesting the patient for a moment, Harry, would you please see that he drinks that last dose of potion?"

Harry felt heat rush to his face. "Yes, ma'am," he said sheepishly.

"And if he's feeling well enough after that," continued Madam Pomfrey, "you should get him up to walk around and exercise a little."

"I will."

She nodded her approval. "Then I'll be back later this evening."

There was a few seconds of silence after the nurse's departure, then Harry turned back to Draco. "What did she mean, was she right?" he asked.

Draco reached out and straightened Harry's glasses, pausing for a moment before answering. "I wasn't sure you were going to come back," he said finally. "I thought you hated me again . . . but she said you just needed time to get over how much I'd scared you."

"Draco, I don't think I could hate you now, even if you had handed me over to your father," said Harry emphatically. "But do you remember when you shoved me in the shower because the potion exploded?" He didn't wait for Draco's answer. "You said I scared the hell out of you. Well, you almost died. You scared me a million times worse than that."

"I know," said Draco. He slumped down, looking sorrowful again.

With a sigh, Harry pulled him back into a hug. "I don't want you to go away again, maybe ever," he said softly.

"I'm not going anywhere," said Draco.

Harry hugged him tighter. "Speaking of potions . . ." he said, rubbing Draco's back, then letting him go, "you need to drink this one." He leaned over and poured the rest of the Reviving Potion from the pitcher on the table into Draco's cup.

Draco rolled his eyes, but took the cup and after eyeing it with utter distaste for a moment, drank it down. "One of the first things I'm going to do in Magical Medicine," he said as he set the cup back on the table, "is find a way to make this stuff taste better."

Harry laughed at that. "She made me drink it, too," he said, giving Draco a commiserating look. But he also noticed that the potion had already put some color back in Draco's face. "C'mon, then," he said, teasing a little. "I'll race you to the window down there and back."

Harry took a moment to push the bed screens back out of the way as they no longer seemed necessary, then Draco got up slowly with Harry's help.

"You'd think he'd cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx on me instead of the Killing Curse," said Draco scornfully, taking his first few unsteady steps. But the potion worked quickly, and by the time they had walked all the way to the window, Draco was feeling much stronger.

"You need to know that Dumbledore is trying to keep what really happened to you secret," said Harry, his arms going around Draco as they both looked out the window, "so we're not to tell anyone that your father cast the Killing Curse, or that I healed you." It was snowing hard again, light fluffy flakes swirled past on the wind, brushing the window pane and melting instantly. "He's trying to keep your involvement in your father's arrest as quiet as possible, for your protection. Once all the arrests have been made, Dumbledore told me that the Ministry is going to take full public credit for 'a brilliant undercover sting operation' without mentioning either of us. Even Fudge is fully in support of it now. The full truth will be known only by the few people who will sentence your father."

Draco leaned into Harry, feeling suddenly like he might cry. He hadn't believed he would still be alive right now, standing within Harry's embrace, and if he had, he never would have imagined that Dumbledore, and even the Ministry, would go to these lengths to protect him. The realization that had been growing ever since he'd woken up yesterday - that people did care about him - hit him hard now, and he turned his face into Harry, momentarily overcome by his unexpected emotional reaction.

Harry seemed to understand and simply held him closer, watching the snow fall; its silent, steady accumulation erasing all the violent tracks they'd left behind at the Portkey hub, covering everything with a blanket of clean white, like a blank piece of parchment on which the future had not yet been written.

"It's a shame, though," said Harry after a minute or so. He reached up and ruffled Draco's hair lightly. "I would have loved to have seen what the Daily Prophet would have done with the story. You could have been a hero, you know. The Boy Who Lived, Too. Or maybe . . . The Boy Who Lived II." He held up two fingers, and Draco had to laugh.

They walked several times up and down the ward, until Draco was tired, but Harry could see that this last dose of potion was quickly helping him regain his strength, and the small knot of worry that Harry had not quite let go of, loosened and slipped away. There seemed to be no doubt now that Draco would fully recover.

Once back in bed, Draco was curious to look at the books Madam Pomfrey had brought in, so they spent the next couple of hours before dinner absorbed in the myriad mysteries of Magical Medicine. Harry proved that he could be a good teacher, but Draco was also an interested and enthusiastic student. It was evident that both of them were going to deeply enjoy studying this subject together.

When their dinner came, Draco ate with a good appetite and Harry was even more pleased. He found himself hoping that Madam Pomfrey would let Draco leave tomorrow. He was just thinking they might manage to have some time alone together after all, in spite of the threat of detentions, when Professor Snape showed up.

He looked at Harry through narrowed eyes. "I see you came back," he said in a slow disdainful drawl, his upper lip curling with distaste. "What a pity."

Harry was opening his mouth to say something when he saw Draco smirk at him. Snape knew they were Magebonded and there was nothing he could do about it. Harry shut his mouth and smirked back.

"Madam Pomfrey told us at dinner that you were nearly recovered," Snape said, turning to Draco, "and I see that you are." He waved his hand at the books spread out over the bed. "What's all this?"

"Harry's helping me get caught up in studying Magical Medicine," said Draco. "I plan to work with him when he becomes a mediwizard, as his Potions master."

"Hmmm," grumbled Snape. "Another pity. Quite beneath your talents. Though you will undoubtedly prevent a great many poisonings since the patients won't be subjected to Potter's substandard potion-making." He wrapped his robes around him and looked down his nose at them. "I'll expect you both in my office first thing Monday morning for detention assignments."

"Yes, sir," said Draco with a sigh in his voice.

"Potter?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, a little horrified to find out that Professor Snape, rather than McGonagall, would be assigning his detentions.

"Very well," said Snape tersely. "Don't be late." He fixed them both with a dark, baleful stare and swept away with a swirl of his black robes.

Harry and Draco exchanged matching glances of resignation, and then the happy realization hit that this was Saturday and that meant they had all day tomorrow free and they grinned.

Draco set his dinner tray aside and picked up the book he'd been reading before dinner. Turning to an illustrated page, he frowned at the faded drawing a moment. "I recognize this," he said, "but it's almost impossible to read."

"Well, it's really old," said Harry. "A couple of centuries, at least."

"Yes, but I've seen a good clear copy somewhere recently . . ." He glanced up as a house-elf popped in to collect the dinner things, and memory, as well as a somewhat startling realization, kicked in. "Hey!" he said, looking back at Harry. "I know where I saw it. And now that my father is under arrest, I think I can call . . ." Closing his eyes, he concentrated for a second, and -

Crack!! Nobby, wearing a stained, monogrammed Malfoy tea towel appeared next to the bed. He took one look at Draco and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

"Oh, Master Draco!" he wailed. "You is alive!" He fell to his knees, clutching the bedclothes and burst into tears. "We believed you was dead!" he bawled. "The nasty Ministry wizards told our mistress so when they took away Master Lucius's books and papers. Then they took away our mistress . . ." He sobbed louder. "We was not knowing what to do!"

"Stop howling!" demanded Draco, completely taken aback by this unexpected spectacle. "Now, then," he said in a quieter voice, when Nobby had at last managed to compose himself, though the elf still sniffled noisily every few seconds. "As you can see I am not dead. And," he added in a very stern voice, "I want to make it very clear that you are not to address my father as Master." He eyed the trembling house-elf severely. "Not ever again. Do you understand?"

"I is understanding perfectly, sir," said Nobby, with another loud sniffle. He bent down and wiped his long nose on the hem of the tea towel then stood up straight. "Mr. Lucius was a very bad, very cruel man. And even though Master Draco tricked and tormented us when he was a child, we was all knowing it was really Mr. Lucius's idea. All the Malfoy house-elves is glad he is arrested. We will be most happy to serve Master Draco instead."

Draco heard Harry stifling a laugh and gave him an annoyed look. Then a thought occurred to him and a devious glint blossomed in his eyes. "Ah, but that's not the only change there will be," he said decisively. "From now on," he declared, "in addition to me, you will also have a second Master. I expect you to treat him in every way the same as you would me." Draco was quite gratified a second later when Harry abruptly stopped laughing and looked back at him with a mildly horrified expression.

"And who is this new Master, sir?" Nobby asked.

Harry groaned. "Draco, no!"

Draco held out his hand to Harry, and reluctantly Harry took it. "Nobby, this is Harry Potter," said Draco. "We are Magebonded. I trust you know what that means?"

Nobby turned to Harry and his eyes grew huge and round. "The Harry Potter, sir?" he squeaked. "You is Magebonded to the great and famous wizard Harry Potter, sir?"

Draco's eyes went up to the ceiling and Harry's face got decidedly pinker. "Yes," said Draco. "So you will treat him just like you would me."

"It is a great honor to meet you, Master Harry Potter," said Nobby in a hushed, reverent voice. He clasped his hands together in front of his chest. "My brother was always speaking of you with the most highest respect, sir."

"Your brother . . . ?" said Harry, at a loss.

"You set my brother free, sir," said Nobby.

Harry stared at the house-elf. "Dobby is your brother?" he asked finally.

If it was possible, Nobby's eyes got even bigger, his voice even more hushed. "You is knowing Dobby's name, sir?"

"Dobby?" said Draco, before Harry could answer. "Isn't that the elf that spelled the table in my room for me? He used to work for my father?"

"He did, sir," said Nobby solemnly. "He was Mr. Lucius's special servant before me, until Master Harry Potter tricked Mr. Lucius into handing him a sock."

"Oh, my God," said Draco on a breath and started laughing. "You really did that to my father?"

"Yes," said Harry in a rather martyred tone. This had turned decidedly embarrassing. "It was the end of second year. Dumbledore gave him a job in the kitchens here."

Nobby let out another awed squeak. "Dobby is working for the great Dumbledore at Hogwarts?"

"You didn't know?" asked Harry.

"No," said Nobby. "I is not seeing my brother for almost five years, sir. We was only knowing Mr. Lucius's side of the story. Dobby could not dare to come see us." He looked imploringly from Draco to Harry and back again. "Would sirs allow . . . ?" he asked tentatively.

Draco had somehow managed to stop laughing during this conversation, though he was still immensely amused at the thought of Harry getting the best of his father in that way. Lucius Malfoy had always been insanely obsessed with his servants. "Of course you can visit him," he said. "But first," he added hurriedly, before the happily beaming Nobby could disappear, "the reason I called you here to begin with was that I needed something from home."

Nobby's smile went unbelievably wide. "I is getting you anything you is wanting as fast as possible, Master Draco," he declared fervently.

Harry started laughing again and now it was Draco's face that turned a shade pinker.

"There were two books in my room," said Draco. "They were Christmas presents from my father. Would you bring them here?" he asked.

With a crack the elf was gone and Harry and Draco barely had time to draw breath before he was back again, loaded down with the two heavy books. Harry jumped off the bed to take them and Draco gave permission for Nobby to go visit Dobby in the kitchens.

Then Draco gave Harry a look. "Kept that little tale to yourself, did you? Not good dinner conversation, indeed."

Harry grinned. "I didn't want to spoil your good mood or the lovely romantic dinner by bringing up your father. Now you can laugh at it. Before, it might not have been so funny."

"True," said Draco. "He never said a word about it to me, but God, he must have been furious. No wonder he had it in for you all this time. Well, that, and using you to further his excessive ambition to be the Dark Lord's favorite Death Eater." Draco picked up one of the books Nobby had brought and thumbed through it. After a moment, he found the page he was looking for and handed the book over to Harry with a triumphant grin. "There," he said. "I knew I'd seen it."

Harry examined the picture and was suitably impressed. "These are beautiful books, Draco. Did you say your father gave them to you for Christmas?"

"Yes." Draco sighed and leaned back against the pillows behind him, his face taking on a far-away, sad expression. "He was . . . good at some things . . . now and then."

Setting the book aside, Harry moved to sit next to Draco and put one arm around his shoulders. Draco leaned into him and they sat quietly for a time, just absorbing comfort from each other's presence.

"I'm sorry," said Harry finally, not knowing what else to say. He couldn't imagine the inner struggle Draco must have gone through to make him decide to betray his father. "I thought I knew," he went on softly, "what you'd been through. But now . . . I think I only understood a little."

"You have no idea how many times I wanted to change my mind, how close I came to giving up those last few days," said Draco. "Every time I thought about dying, about losing you, I felt I couldn't possibly go through with it. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to leave you." He paused to take a deep breath. "But then the alternative was always right there, staring me in the face - that my father had vowed to give you to Voldemort. I had to keep telling myself that nothing, not my pain or my mother's, or even yours if I died, could be worse than that."

Harry tightened his arm around Draco and turned his face against Draco's soft hair. "You were right," he whispered. Memories of the conversations they'd had before Draco went home surfaced, more and more of Draco's confusing responses during the last days they'd had before Christmas made sense now. "I feel so awful," said Harry, "that I was happy and talking about how we would get a house together and all the time you thought you were going to die. Why didn't you stop me?"

"I did try, you know," replied Draco, his voice showing a hint of its usual teasing scorn. Then it softened. "But I liked hearing you talk about us."

Smiling, Harry lifted his head. "We could talk about it again, now . . ." he said. And as the words left his mouth, Harry caught his breath, remembering with the suddenness of a small electric jolt what he still needed to tell Draco, and was more than a little shocked at himself that he'd let it slip from his mind at all.

"Well, you won't have to worry about finding a big house," said Draco. "The fact that I was able to call Nobby here shows that the Malfoy estates have already passed to me. With my father condemned to life in Azkaban, I inherit everything, including Malfoy Manor, whether he likes it or not." He paused. "There's just one thing, though . . ." he said slowly. "I don't want to live there again. I don't think I could, after this. And I don't know if my mother will either," he added with a sigh. "If that's true, you can have your orphanage there . . . if you want, because, to be honest, I'm not sure that I can see myself actually living with a houseful of kids. I wanted that for you, if I couldn't be with you, so you wouldn't be alone." He met Harry's green eyes apologetically. "If it was my wish, I would want someplace small and quiet, for just us."

And although he was anxious about what he needed to tell Draco, a quiet thrill went through Harry to hear Draco talk so definitely about them living together. "I would like that, too," he said hesitantly, "except . . ." He trailed off. Here it was then, the moment of truth.

"Except what?" asked Draco, when Harry didn't continue.

"I . . . while you were gone . . . I got a letter from Cho."

Draco frowned. "Don't tell me," he said flatly. "She didn't get married after all and wants you back?"

"No, she did get married, but - "

"She hated her husband and left him . . . and wants you back?"

"No! She doesn't want me back. Stop interrupting. This is hard enough for me to tell you as it is."

"Go on then . . ."

Harry took a deep breath. "She's pregnant."

Draco shrugged. "So? That's a revoltingly common occurrence after a girl gets married, you know."

"But it didn't happen after she got married. That's what I'm trying to tell you. The baby . . . is mine."

Both pale eyebrow went up. "Yours? They're sure?"

"Yes." Harry pulled Cho's letter from his pocket. "It's complicated," he said. "It would be easier if you just read her letter." Harry sighed as he handed it over. "Some of it is really . . . embarrassing."

Draco's intense curiosity was kindled by that last statement and he took the letter with avid interest. He didn't have to read very far to see what Harry was talking about. And that was just the first paragraph.

Then he read further and nearly choked trying to stifle a loud laugh. "Oh, God, Harry!" he said, looking up to find Harry's face turning bright crimson. "She says: 'You don't have to worry about my husband being upset about it. Lian is actually thrilled that I'm going to be the mother of your baby. He's really proud of it.'" Draco snickered. "Oh, that's just priceless." He laughed again, immensely enjoying the mortified look on Harry's face. "You could rent yourself out," he said, teasing. "I can see it now. Authentic Offspring of the Boy Who Lived! Every woman will want one and their husbands won't mind!"

"Draco!" gasped Harry, appalled. "That's not funny!" This was not at all the reaction he'd expected. "Would you really want me to do that?"

"Of course not," said Draco, still laughing. "But it is funny! The entire wizarding world could be overrun by little myopic, messy-haired Potter babies."

"It is not funny," said Harry, becoming exasperated. "I was really worried about telling you this. I thought you'd be upset."

"Why?" asked Draco, genuinely puzzled. "It happened before we were together . . . and you told me yourself that you wanted to have kids. It was the one thing you told me you couldn't give up. This way, you get the child you wanted and I still get you. I think it's a perfect arrangement." He studied Harry's frowning face. "Aren't you happy about it?" he asked. "It is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Some time in the future, yes," said Harry on a sigh. "But not now, not like this. It isn't right. It was completely irresponsible . . . to bring a baby into this world now . . . with a war starting." He hesitated, then voiced his greatest fear. "What if I die?" he asked softly. "What if she loses me the same way I lost my parents? That isn't what I wanted at all."

"Even if you die," Draco pointed out reasonably, "it won't be the same as your situation. She will still have her mother and step-father. She won't be left alone."

"I know," said Harry, "I just. . . ." He gazed at Draco for a moment silently, then a small smile appeared on his face. "You really don't mind?" he asked.

"No," said Draco. "I'm actually rather pleased - and for purely selfish reasons. I won't have to worry now about you pining away for something I can't give you."

"But once the war is over and it's safe, they want me to be involved with her. So that affects you too," warned Harry. "It means that if we live together, maybe sometimes she'll come stay with us."

"So she'll come for short visits," said Draco. "Then she'll go home and it can be just us again. I think I can deal with that." He gave Harry a teasing grin and went back to reading the rest of the letter.

Harry finally relaxed and allowed the thought that he was going to have a daughter sink in. He felt such an incredible mixture of excitement and worry and anticipation.

Draco looked up after finishing the end of the letter and regarded Harry thoughtfully for a few seconds. "As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with what they're doing. They've kept your involvement secret between the two of them and their parents, and they seem to have everything worked out quite carefully with the baby's safety in mind," he said. "She says it's traditional in her husband's family for the father to name the first born. Have you given any thought to what you will name her?"

"Yes," said Harry. "My mother died for me . . . and I always planned to name any daughter I had after her. So I want to name her Lily."

Draco groaned.

"What?" said Harry. "You don't think I should?"

"No, no," said Draco, "it's not that. I think you should - it's just that it's . . . it's another one of those bloody flower names."

"And what's wrong with flower names?" asked Poppy Pomfrey, a tone of mild insult in her voice as she walked across the room from the door. The boys had been too engrossed in their conversation and hadn't heard her come in. Harry felt his face go hot, wondering how much she had overheard, but when she reached the bedside, she just gave Draco a quizzical look.

Both boys stared at her for a second, then realization hit. Draco turned back to Harry with a hilariously horrified look on his face that said very clearly, Oh my God, we forgot one!

"Nothing's wrong with flower names," said Harry in a constrained voice, trying hard not to laugh. "We were just talking . . . er . . . about how many there were. Like my mother, Lily, and my aunt, and his mother, too."

"Can't go wrong with a flower name, my mother always said," she replied, nodding. "I have three sisters: Amaryllis, Iris, and Daisy Rose."

Draco moaned softly.

"Are you feeling all right, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, sudden concern showing on her face. "Maybe you've overdone things."

"I'm fine," said Draco. "But actually, I am feeling just a bit tired."

"Hmmm," said Madam Pomfrey. "I think perhaps you should make an early night of it, then. In fact, we all had a very trying night last night and could use the extra rest." She turned to look pointedly at Harry. "I know you two are bonded and I know it's not what you would like," she said, her tone both understanding and firm, "but this is a hospital. So Harry, I'm putting you on your honor that if you stay here tonight, you will stay in your own bed."

Reluctantly Harry agreed, for Draco's sake. He didn't want to go to sleep early, and he definitely didn't want to sleep apart, but Draco was looking tired. Those light blue smudges were reappearing under his eyes.

"I'll leave you two to get ready then," said Madam Pomfrey. "I'll be back in a little while to put the lamps out."

Draco declared that he could not possibly sleep another night without taking a shower or brushing his teeth, so Harry rummaged through the cupboards until he found a clean pair of pajamas and a couple of spare toothbrushes. But Draco also insisted that he could do it by himself, thank you very much. "You're not my bloody house-elf, Potter," he said with an affronted sniff, when Harry followed him into the small hospital bathroom, evidently with every intention of helping him bathe. "I think I can manage a bar of soap and a toothbrush on my own."

Harry had to settle for surreptitiously checking on Draco every few minutes by quietly poking his head in the bathroom door, though all he got for his trouble was to have his glasses steam up. He finally decided to neaten up Draco's bed instead. He set Draco's rare books carefully on the night table and stacked the ones Madam Pomfrey had brought in separately on the chair. He fluffed the pillows and pulled the rumpled bedclothes straight. Shortly after that, he heard the shower stop and the water in the sink turn on, and then Draco came out, smelling of sweet lavender-herbal soap, looking refreshed and much happier.

While Harry quickly brushed his own teeth, Draco walked down to the window again to look out. The thick snow clouds of the afternoon had mostly cleared away, leaving only thin tattered wisps that stretched like gauzy wind-blown veils across the dark star-studded sky. A slim waning crescent moon cast a pale, eerie light over the pristine snow-covered landscape below. Draco laid his hand against the icy cold glass and felt a moment of stark awe that he should be here on the inside, warm and alive and loved, when he could have so easily been lying out there, cold and lifeless, buried under the earth and snow. Harry joined him, his arms going around Draco from behind to hold him, and Draco let his bleak thoughts slip away in the comfort of that embrace.

Over Draco's shoulder, Harry looked out at the unbroken blanket of snow and memory hit him with a momentary pang of loss. "I guess the Quidditch pitch is all covered over now," he said wistfully.

It took Draco a second or two to think what Harry meant, then he turned within the circle of Harry's arms to face Harry, his arms going around Harry's waist. "You saw my note?" he asked, smiling.

"I did," said Harry, smiling back.

"It was a silly idea . . ." said Draco deprecatingly, but he looked quite pleased.

"I loved it," said Harry.

Draco answered that very simply by kissing Harry.

"C'mon," said Harry, still smiling, when they pulled apart a long moment later. "Let's get you in bed."

Harry had just finished tucking Draco into bed, when Madam Pomfrey came back in from her office wearing her robe and night cap. "Ready for lights out?" she asked, seeing Harry still dressed and sitting on the edge of Draco's bed.

"Almost," said Harry. He turned back to Draco while she waited, and not caring that she watched, he kissed Draco good night. "See you in the morning," he said softly.

Draco held Harry's hand for a second longer, then let him go, and Harry walked to the opposite bed. "Okay," he said. "I can get undressed in the dark."

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand to put out the lamps. "Good night, then," she said and disappeared into her office.

Harry didn't bother with the hospital pajamas he'd worn the night before, but simply stripped down to his boxers and got into bed. Settling onto his back, he lay still, letting his awareness stretch out across the room, feeling Draco's presence like a prickle along his nerves or static hovering over his skin, like something magnetic pulling at him. He wondered if he should have done the sleep spell tonight, worried if Draco would sleep all right without it. The light under Madam Pomfrey's door went out after another minute, leaving the room lit only by the silent pools of watery moonlight that stretched across the floor under the window at the far end of the room. He closed his eyes, finally feeling the tiredness of the long day, and was just starting to drift off when . . .

"Harry?" A whisper in the dark. "Are you asleep?"

"Not yet." He heard Draco's bedsprings creak softly, and a pale form, almost ghostly in the dim moonlight, hurried across the room to stand at the side of his bed.

Draco stood for a moment, listening, then quickly slipped into bed with Harry.

"Draco," Harry protested feebly, as he shifted over to make room. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

"Technically speaking," said Draco, snuggling up against Harry, "I'm not out of bed."

"You shouldn't be out of your bed," amended Harry, but he couldn't help putting his arms around Draco to pull him closer.

"Shhh," whispered Draco. "She didn't say I had to stay in my own bed."

Harry laughed very softly. "I'll let you be the one to point that out to her if she catches us," he said.

Draco gave a short, quiet laugh. He took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh of pleasure. "I just needed to be with you like this for a little while," he said, turning serious, "and then I'll go back." His arms tightened around Harry in a hug. "I missed you."

"Missed you too," whispered Harry. He slid his hand down Draco's back and slipped it up under Draco's pajama top, hearing with small inner thrill how Draco responded with another soft sigh at the touch of his hand. This was the first time they'd had a chance to be together, just to hold one another, since Draco had left to go home for Christmas, and Harry felt immensely grateful for this moment of calm pleasure. The quiet of the room settled around them, instilling a sense of serenity, comforting in its simplicity; a new, very welcome tranquility filled them, replacing all the many worries and stresses they'd battled lately, like the peace that follows the storm.

"So," said Draco in a hushed voice, breaking the silence finally. "I go away for two days and you are full of surprises. Freeing Malfoy house-elves and getting girls pregnant. Is there anything else you need to tell me?" He paused, the teasing quality of his voice changing to something more serious and just a little insecure. "Anything else you're still upset about?"

"No," said Harry. "Well, maybe . . . one thing," he admitted. "The chess game. You let me win. No, worse than that, you deliberately played to make me win."

Draco raised up a bit on one elbow to look down at Harry. "Is that all?"

"It wasn't fair," said Harry. "I want a rematch."

"You know I'll trounce you, don't you?"

"I don't know any such thing," said Harry.

"It'll be a bloody rout, Harry. I'm a much better player than you."

"You're going to have to prove that," challenged Harry.

"Okay, you're on," said Draco. "And I'll even let you play white." He grinned smugly. "Go on, then," he said. "We can start right now."

Harry thought for a moment. "Pawn to C4," he said. He pulled his hand out from under Draco's pajama top and tugged at the hem. "Take this off," he said.

Draco raised one eyebrow, but sat up after a second's hesitation and started on his buttons. "I thought you were worried about Madam Pomfrey," he said, his voice low and teasing again. "What if she does come back in? She'll be horribly shocked."

"She'll be angry, but I seriously doubt she'll be shocked," said Harry with a grin. "I mean she has seen you with your shirt off. Anyway, I thought you liked shocking people."

"That's quite true," said Draco. He grinned back and dropped his pajama top to the floor. "My turn now," he said, lying back down next to Harry. This time, he shifted down so that he could rest his head on Harry's shoulder, and Harry's arms came around him, skin brushing against bare skin with a silken electricity that caused them both to catch their breath.

Harry hugged Draco close again, and the silence of the room now held a hushed air of anticipation. He felt Draco's soft exhaled sigh feather across his throat as Draco's hand, trailing a shimmering path of crystal white glitter, slid up over his bare stomach and chest to lie, stirring and warm, just over his captivated heart.

"Pawn to E5," whispered Draco. His voice was earnest now, all teasing forgotten. "There were so many things I couldn't say to you before, that I wanted to say. I was afraid to want us too much . . . and I thought if I kept you from getting too close, maybe you wouldn't be so hurt in the end. I know now that I was wrong, that there wasn't any way I could have kept you from being hurt if I had died."

"I would have been terribly hurt," whispered Harry back. "But I never would have hated you . . . or regretted anything."

Draco came up on one elbow again, his fingers skimming up Harry's neck, then weaving into the dark hair. "Thank you," he said very quietly. "That means a lot to me." He leaned in to kiss Harry. It was a light kiss, full of tenderness and gratitude for all that Harry had done for him, but it was more than that. Expressing all of the devotion in Draco's heart, it revealed an unshakable commitment fully and honestly given. And it was enough to awaken the desire that had lain dormant between them since the harrowing events at the Portkey hub.

The air seemed to go heavy and tremulous around them with expectation. Harry felt his pulse quicken, felt Draco tremble in his arms.

"I want you," said Draco, a breath of words against Harry's mouth, before he kissed Harry deeply, igniting that initial spark into a spiraling flare of passion between them. "I want you," he repeated, "not just now, but for all of my life." His voice was hushed, barely audible from emotion, but there was no question of the certainty that resounded in his words. He brushed his lips over Harry's again softly, then bent his head to kiss the edge of Harry's jaw, his throat, the hollow between his collarbones.

"I want you, too," whispered Harry as every thought of objection, of where they were, of Madam Pomfrey, even of Draco's injury, fled from his mind in the wake of Draco's kisses. "I want you forever," he said breathlessly.

Draco lifted his head to look into Harry's eyes, shining with emotion and reflected moonlight. "The rest of my life has always belonged to you," he whispered, and his mouth found Harry's again, kissing him with a gentle delicacy that only inflamed the need they both felt.

Harry tightened his arms around Draco, pulling Draco down, so that Draco moved, shifting over to lie on top of him. Draco's weight pressed him down and the intimacy of their contact through the thin layers of fabric they still wore, sent waves of shivery tremors through Harry.

Draco dropped his head down, his mouth next to Harry's ear. "Will you do the magic, Harry?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"Things got a little out of control last time, remember?" whispered Harry. But his heart beat faster, stirred by his memories of that night, of how the magic had woven them together so closely that they'd seemed to melt into each other.

"Yes," whispered Draco. "That's exactly what I want to happen."

Draco's words made Harry smile. "So do I," he whispered and kissed the side of Draco's face. Closing his eyes, Harry let his awareness sink into the center of his own magic and found that Draco's magic was now an integral part of himself, joining and extending his own magic in a fluid fusing together of emotion and power. Without using a spell, Harry released this power, letting it flood through him and through his hands into Draco. A heightened awareness of Draco's physical presence echoed back to him in the pounding of heartbeats closely matched, in the synchronizing rhythm of their breath. An outpouring of love and magic flowed through both of them, overflowing from one to the other and back again in an endless circle through all the magical bindings that joined them.

Boundaries of self and other blurred and merged; all sense of separation disappeared between them, and like two streams of water flowing together, they became one. The cool fire of Draco's touch was indistinguishable from the touch of Harry's own warm hands on Draco's skin; Harry's low, murmured moan resonated with the sound of Draco's voice. Hands found hands, fingers lacing, wrist pressed to wrist, and time stood still as they lost themselves to each other in the power of their shared passion. The urgent tenderness of their kisses and the ardent, arching movement of their bodies built crescendos of compelling heat that burned in brilliant flashes of golden and diamond sparks until it seemed the world caught fire, dissolving bone and melting thought.

They clung tightly to each other, as the world gradually cooled and coalesced back into the silent, moonlit room around them, as time slipped delicately into being again. Racing breath and heartbeats slowed, the magic ebbed, and all their thoughts floated away for a moment, suspended in that hazy sense of calm, contented completion.

Harry finally stirred and kissed the side of Draco's face that was pressed against his own. He felt profoundly moved, profoundly in love and as if he could never find enough words or enough ways to say so. "I love you," he whispered, and Draco hummed softly in response.

Draco kissed Harry's shoulder, and raised his head to look into Harry's eyes. Even in the darkened room, the eye contact was intensely intimate; everything they had become to each other was expressed deeply and clearly. "I love you, too," said Draco on a breath, touching their noses together.

A little shivery thrill went through Harry and his heart skipped, turning over, as he realized that those words, said so simply and meant so genuinely, were enough to encompass all the overwhelming emotions he felt just now, because he suddenly knew that Draco understood them perfectly. Everything that Harry felt, he saw mirrored in Draco's moonlight-silver eyes. And Harry knew, too, that neither of them would have any regrets, not ever, no matter how long or short a time their forever would be.

For a few more minutes they lay together in a state of drowsy happiness, wishing the inevitable moment of separation could be delayed, but at last they both sat up, knowing that if they waited any longer they would fall asleep and Madam Pomfrey would surely discover them together in the morning. Harry tried a cleaning spell using wandless magic and found it worked surprisingly well, which gave Draco another excuse to kiss him.

"Do you want me to do the sleep spell tonight?" Harry asked, as Draco finally got out of his bed.

"No," said Draco after a moment's hesitation. He bent to retrieve his pajama top from the floor. "Somehow, I don't think I'll be needing that anymore," he said softly, giving Harry one last, long, lingering kiss before crossing the room to get back into his own bed.

* * *

Draco woke up slowly the next morning as yesterday's events sifted through his mind in small joyous revelations of startling freedom. All the anxiety and despair for the future of the past two years that had lain like layers of shadow over his heart lifted free and floated away. He felt light and well; he was alive, his father's callous domination broken at last. The future stretched before him now, clean and unwritten, unknown and stirring with unexpected hope. He thought about the things Harry had told him yesterday, especially about the Magebond. That in itself filled him with a thrilling sense of excitement. There were so many exhilarating possibilities. And, more importantly, it meant no one would ever question his right to be with Harry now.

Hearing soft footsteps, he opened his eyes just in time to see Madam Pomfrey quietly open the door to the corridor and go out. He waited until she had closed the door behind her, then sat up to look for Harry. Across the room, Harry sat up too, as if he'd been waiting for the very same moment. Harry reached for his glasses on the bedside table, put them on, and saw that Draco was awake. They grinned at each other, their thoughts full of memories of the previous night and anticipation for the coming day they would have to spend together.

This time, it was Harry who, after quickly pulling on his jeans and shirt, went to Draco's bed, certain that now that it was morning he'd kept his word to Madam Pomfrey. "How are you feeling today?" he asked.

"Much better," said Draco. "Like if I have to spend another day in bed, I'll go crazy. Or," he added, pulling Harry close for a kiss, "if I do, it had better be with you in it too."

Harry laughed and kissed back. "We'll talk to Madam Pomfrey when she gets back."

"I've been thinking about the Magebond this morning," said Draco, "trying to remember what I've read about it. Besides the emotional bonding aspect of it, I think it means we're able to cast spells together." He raised one eyebrow provocatively at Harry. "I think we should try it."

"Now?"

"Of course, now."

"I don't know," said Harry. "Dumbledore said we needed to be careful - that we needed training to use it properly. Remember how you felt drained when I transfigured that snowball? You're just recovering from a terrible wound in your magical aura. I don't want to do anything that will cause a relapse."

"I think I'm quite well enough," said Draco. "And I only felt drained for a few seconds that time. This time I'll be casting with you - that might make a difference. We'll just do something really easy."

Harry still looked doubtful. "Like what?"

"First, do something yourself - for practice." Draco looked over at Harry's bed across the room. "Do you think you could pop that pillow over there?"

Harry followed Draco's gaze and slowly grinned. "Maybe." He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing his concentration inward, into his magic. Then picturing the pillow bursting open in his mind's eye, he directed his magic toward it through his outstretched hand. There was a small audible bang! from across the room, like the sound of a balloon popping. Harry heard Draco's sharp intake of breath and short triumphant laugh, and opened his eyes. The pillow on his bed had indeed popped open, a small rip in the top and down one side spilling a cascade of feathers out onto the sheets.

"It worked!" said Harry, turning to Draco with a wide grin, but his excitement quickly changed to concern. "Did it bother you at all?"

"I felt it," said Draco honestly. "But only a little - like a slight tug inside me." He grinned back. "Try it again, but this time we'll do it together. Maybe if we both try, we can make the pillow on the next bed pop open even more." Then he looked questioningly at Harry. "What should I do?"

"Er . . . just visualize it, I guess," said Harry uncertainly. "That's what I do, then I send the magic energy out toward it like I learned to do with the healing magic."

Draco took hold of Harry's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Since I've never done it before, it might not work," he said. "That's something else I'll have to learn. But let's try it - just to see what happens."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes again. "On three," he whispered, focusing his magic again.

Draco closed his eyes too and concentrated as hard as he could on pillows popping.

"One . . . two . . . three . . ."

Ka-BOOM!!

Every mattress and pillow in the room exploded with a thunderous sound. A blinding blizzard of white feathers rained down from all directions.

For a moment, it was impossible to see, then as the feathers drifted down to settle over everything, Harry looked around, stunned at the disaster they had just created of the hospital wing. "Bloody hell," he said in a hushed voice. "I guess that's why we need training."

"That's putting it mildly," said Draco, equally shocked. Then he turned to Harry as if he'd just had a startling revelation. "You do understand what this means, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry, brushing feathers out of his hair. "Madam Pomfrey is going to kill us."

"Harry, be serious," said Draco. "Using our combined magical strength and your ability to do wandless magic without a spell, you will have a real chance against the Dark Lord. You do realize how dangerous you could be now, don't you?"

"I don't want to be dangerous," said Harry with a deep sigh of annoyance. "I told you, I don't want to fight any more."

Draco gave Harry a cool, disbelieving and slightly disapproving look. "You said you didn't want to fight Voldemort alone, and now you don't have to. It'll be brilliant."

"No, it won't," said Harry, stubbornly. "Don't you understand? It won't be brilliant or glorious or anything like that. It'll be horrible and dirty and sickening."

Draco nodded. "Of course," he said. "It'll be that, too. But he has to be stopped, Harry."

"I know he has to be stopped, Draco." Harry looked down at his hands, feeling almost that they had betrayed him. "I just . . . why does it have to be me . . . or us?"

"Are you telling me that you've just become the greatest secret weapon the wizarding world could imagine and you don't want to?" His tone was incredulous.

Harry sighed again. "Is that what I'm saying?"

"Yes!" Draco reached out and took Harry's hand again, holding it tightly. "This is forever," he said. "But forever isn't going to mean much if the Dark Lord takes over. He destroyed both of our families. Now we really have a chance to do something about that, to defeat him once and for all."

"I can't fight him for vengeance anymore, Draco."

Draco regarded Harry for a very long moment, then went on in a gentler voice. "What about your daughter's future? What about the family we are going to be?" he asked. "I want that future we talked about, Harry. I gave it up once and I won't again. Don't you think that's worth fighting for?"

"Yes," said Harry, very softly. "Of course. But. . . ." His words trailed off into a silence that hung suspended between them.

"I will fight with you, Harry," said Draco finally, "and I will fight for you. But I can't fight against you. I can't do this if you won't. We have to do it together."

Harry stared down at their clasped hands lying amidst the downy snowfall of feathers as he listened to Draco's words and the sight stirred a memory, fleeting and misty at first, then suddenly clear. Harry lifted their hands up between them. "Draco," he said in an awed, hushed voice, "I saw this. I dreamed about this. I just remembered. It was the first time I stayed all night with you and I had that nightmare. You woke me up, remember?"

At Draco's nod, he went on. "I was looking down at Voldemort's army and I felt so tired and sickened by it all . . . and so alone and terrified that I could never fight them all. But then I felt someone take my hand . . . and all this strength and confidence poured into me . . ." He looked up to meet Draco's eyes. "That was when you woke me up and you were holding my hand and I thought that's why I dreamed that . . . but . . ." Harry straightened up, his eyes shining. "This is what it meant," he said quietly. "I don't have to fight them alone now."

"No," said Draco. "You don't." His eyes met Harry's steadily and seriously, a solemn pact exchanged without words, but a moment later, one eyebrow went up and he gave Harry a small amused grin. "Didn't I just say that?"

Harry didn't answer. He just leaned in to kiss Draco.

The door to the hospital wing opened and there was a sudden muffled gasp. The boys broke apart and turned to see Madam Pomfrey standing in the doorway, one hand over her mouth. Feathers swirled around her feet and spun in lazy drifts across the floor in the draft from the open door.

"What on Earth happened in here!?" she demanded.

Harry gripped Draco's hand tighter, closed his eyes and, remembering the spell Hermione had used on Draco's necklace, thought, Reficio! A dizzying whirlwind of flying feathers instantly filled the room accompanied by a roaring, sucking noise. Then abruptly, with a loud POP! everything was put back together.

Madam Pomfrey, her nurse's cap blown askew on top of her head, marched over to the bed and looked down at the two boys.

"Sorry," said Harry, trying not to grin. "We just . . . er, sort of found out what a Magebond means."

Draco, though, was grinning without any pretense of apology whatsoever.

Madam Pomfrey looked from one boy to the other, then walked over to one of the cupboards and came back with Draco's clothes. "Get dressed, Mr. Malfoy," she said dryly. "It also means you're quite well enough to be discharged."

* * *

Only a short time later, Harry and Draco were walking slowly down the corridor, arms loosely linked around each other's waists, Harry carrying Draco's heavy winter cloak and his two rare Potions books. They had just set out from the hospital wing and were on their way down to the Slytherin tower when Hermione and Ron came around the corner at the end of the hall.

Draco's eyebrows went up. "I thought no one knew we were here," he said in an undertone.

With a small inward groan at his own forgetfulness, Harry turned to Draco, talking quickly. "Hermione went home with Ron for Christmas to announce their engagement, so they were there when Arthur Weasley was involved in helping us get you back here. He only told them you were hurt by a Dark Magic curse. They don't know about the Killing Curse or that I healed you." He paused to take a breath, and went on apologetically. "They came to visit yesterday, too, before you woke up, and said to tell you that they're glad you're safe. I forgot."

"Both of them?" said Draco, a little skeptical.

"Both of them," repeated Harry firmly. He was going to take every opportunity now to encourage Ron and Draco to put the past behind them, even if he had to embellish the truth a bit.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the four met in the middle of the corridor, then Hermione stepped forward. "Oh, hell," she said, "I don't care if you don't like it," and she threw her arms around Draco's neck and hugged him tightly. "I am so glad we didn't lose you," she added, and her voice quivered noticeably.

For a moment, Draco stood frozen to the spot, stunned, then he disentangled himself from Harry and hugged her back. "I'm glad too," he said softly.

Hermione pulled back to look him in the eye and he saw that her lashes were damp. "If you ever even contemplate doing something like that again," she said in her fiercest Head Girl Voice, "I will kill you myself."

"Yes, ma'am," said Draco in a very subdued voice, but he smiled at her teasingly.

"All right then," she said, smiling back and let him go.

Draco turned to Ron. "Will you tell your father thank you from me?" he said. "I understand he helped get me back here after I was . . . hurt."

"Sure," said Ron, studying Draco carefully, not quite certain what to make of this new contrite and serious Malfoy.

"Oh," said Draco, as if something had just occurred to him, "and you can give him this." He took his cloak from Harry and turned it over until he found the right hand pocket, then pulled out a folded up piece of parchment which he handed to Ron. "It looks blank," he explained as Ron opened it, "but it's an invisible list of names and addresses of so-called business connections, people who were acting as alibis for my father while he was doing work for the Dark Lord." He waited until Ron looked up from the paper and met the blue eyes steadily. "I'm guessing that the most secret of my father's records at the manor are under that same spell - to look blank."

"Do you know how to read them?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," said Draco, "although it's also possible he had more than one spell to do this. He didn't quite trust me with his secrets. The spell on that is the one our family used on private messages."

"I'll give it to my Dad," said Ron. He refolded the list and carefully pocketed it while Draco taught Hermione the spell that would reveal the hidden writing. "I'm sure it will help," he said, when Hermione had correctly memorized the spell, "but don't think that I've forgotten you nearly got Harry killed - no matter what side you're on."

"Ron, don't," protested Harry, but Draco laid a hand on his arm.

Hermione frowned, also ready to jump to Draco's defense, but Ron didn't look at her. He kept his eyes fixed on Draco. "So, just in case you have any more bright ideas about putting Harry in danger, Malfoy," he went on quickly, before she could say anything, "I'm still going to be watching you."

"Is that so, Weasley?" said Draco, returning Ron's stare boldly, a hint of his old infuriating drawl sounding in his voice.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Like a hawk."

"Well," said Draco, "since I have no intention of doing anything to endanger Harry, I'm sure I won't care." He paused. "In fact," he added thoughtfully, a mischievous smile playing around the corners of his mouth, "you can watch me all you want. But you might regret it."

"Would I now?" asked Ron huffily. "And why is that?"

"Because," said Draco, his eyes sliding over to Harry, "every time I see you watching me, I'm going to do this - " He suddenly hooked his arm around Harry's neck and pulled Harry into a rather demonstrative kiss.

"Oh, gah!" groaned Ron. He turned away and found Hermione watching that kiss with a knowing grin. "I bet you knew he was going to do that," he accused. "Didn't you?"

"I had a hunch," she said. "He does seem to like having an audience." She laughed. "And Harry certainly doesn't seem to mind."

"Bloody exhibitionists," muttered Ron.

At that, Harry and Draco broke apart, unable to stop themselves from laughing.

Ron watched Draco laughing with Harry with an odd mixture of jealousy and disbelief. The pang of jealousy he dismissed as beneath him - he truly wanted Harry to be happy and that meant he had to let Harry be with the person Harry loved just as willingly as Harry shared him with Hermione. But he'd never seen Draco laugh like this and for a moment he simply couldn't believe that this boy was the same infuriating, slimy git he'd fought with since first year. Surely it was not possible for someone to change so much. And though it was still at Ron's expense, Ron could see that even the way Draco laughed at him now was different. All the taunting animosity of their younger days was gone. It was clearly only harmless teasing, not meant to make fun or hurt.

All of Ron's firmly conceived notions about the Slytherin seemed to have been systematically challenged lately and found to be far from the truth. It was rather hard to swallow - that he'd been so wrong all these years - but he looked at the happiness on Harry's face and, he had to admit, on Draco's face too, and finally conceded defeat.

"Need another demonstration, Weasley?" Draco asked mischievously. He pulled Harry close again, grinning smugly as if he would be only too happy to oblige.

"No!" said Ron. "I've seen quite enough." He'd meant to sound put out, but he realized with surprise, he actually wasn't that annoyed anymore. Somehow, with that sentence, he knew he had seen enough, enough to cross over from the last lingering feelings of doubt to the first small beginnings of trust.

"What a shame," said Draco, feigning disappointment for a moment and still teasing, but it was clear that he'd somehow heard the undercurrent of change in Ron's words because he smiled, suddenly turning the full effect of that real, genuine heart-felt smile directly on Ron for the very first time.

That smile had always taken Harry's breath away and made his knees melt into jelly, and though Ron's response was not nearly so emotionally intense, he was far from immune to its power.

In spite of himself, he smiled back.

* * *

But as much as Harry and Draco had hoped to spend that Sunday alone together, it didn't happen. Ron and Hermione walked back with them to Draco's room. Ron even offered to carry Draco's heavy books up the Slytherin tower stairs so that Harry could help Draco up the long climb easier. Well, that is, he offered after Hermione had elbowed him meaningfully while Harry and Draco were not looking. But Ron was suitably impressed with the room, and Harry managed to keep him from looking out the window to see Draco's way-too-handy view of the Quidditch pitch by pointing out Draco's beautiful chess set. That proved to be a brilliant distraction as Ron and Draco sat in the chairs by the fire, resetting the pieces on the chessboard back to their starting positions, discovering a mutual passion.

Ron handled each piece with amazement written all over his freckled face. "I've never seen anything like this," he said. "These must be over a hundred years old."

"They are," said Draco proudly. "My grandmother inherited the set from her grandfather, and gave it to me."

"Maybe we could . . . er . . . play sometime?" suggested Ron, his ears turning rather pink, surprising them all, including himself, with this extension of goodwill.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, though Harry could tell he was pleased. "Maybe," he said. "But you should know, I've almost never been beaten." He gave Harry a sly grin.

"Well, you should know that might be about to change," said Ron, the light of challenge sparking in his eyes.

Hermione and Harry exchanged very pleased looks.

They might have started a game then and there, but Hermione reminded Ron that they needed to go. Since Harry and Draco wanted to talk to Dumbledore, the four of them walked together back to the headmaster's office. Ron and Hermione used Floo powder in the headmaster's huge fireplace to travel back to the Burrow. Then Harry and Draco sat down with Dumbledore, and over tea and raspberry muffins, Harry stammered out a very embarrassed confession regarding his impending fatherhood.

Dumbledore regarded Harry silently over the tops of his half-moon glasses, his expression quite enigmatic, because though his silver eyebrows seemed to be frowning, his eyes were shining. He nodded approvingly when Harry explained Cho's plans. "No one else must know about this, Harry," he said solemnly, when the whole story was told. "Until Voldemort is defeated, any child of yours will be in dreadful danger."

"I know," whispered Harry. He felt ready to sink into the floor as it was. Draco reached over and took his hand.

"But you were right to tell me," added Dumbledore. "I'll do everything I can to help keep her safe."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry with gratitude and relief, feeling that this was so much more than he had any right to expect.

Once that was settled, Draco asked for permission to go see his mother at St. Mungo's Hospital and Dumbledore used his Floo powder again and accompanied them there personally. It was a short and emotional meeting. Narcissa stood up shakily from her chair when she saw Draco and tears spilled from her closed eyes as she hugged him tightly for a long, long moment. She soon composed herself and Draco introduced her to Harry. She was rather shocked however, both dismay and disbelief flitting across her thin, pinched face, to find her handsome son explaining that this mop-headed boy was his chosen life partner. The fact that Harry was responsible for saving Draco's life, though, went a very long way toward softening her disapproval. But the emotional shock had tired her, and talks of what was to become of the manor and other arrangements could wait for when she was stronger. The boys left her to rest and returned with Dumbledore to Hogwarts and a much-needed lunch.

That afternoon, while Draco also rested, Harry sat at Draco's desk and wrote a letter to Cho. In addition to assuring her of his growing happiness about the baby and his approval of her plans, he devoted a lot of the letter to explaining as much as he could reveal about his new relationship with Draco. All of it had been hard to put into words and it took him well over an hour to write it, but he felt relieved and much more settled after it was done. He was just watching Hedwig fly away with it when another owl appeared, dipping and weaving, flying laboriously and headed on a wobbly line for Draco's open window.

Harry recognized Errol at once and ducked out of the way. The owl skidded across the sill on one foot and went over the edge, falling with a heavy thud and a belated flapping of wings to the floor below. There, he lay on his back with both legs sticking up, a note dangling from one of them. With a profoundly exhausted glance at Harry, he promptly fell asleep. Harry untied the note and quickly read it, then closed the window and went to wake up Draco. They had been invited to the Burrow for dinner.

Dumbledore gave them permission to go and allowed them to travel again by Floo powder from his office. The dinner was wonderful; Molly outdid herself with the cooking, and Draco, to his pleasure and embarrassment, was much made over. Luckily Harry had been on hand to intercept and confiscate the "peace offering" Draco was given by Fred and George. "We just wanted to welcome him into the family properly," they'd insisted with an innocent air that fooled no one as Harry returned the box of Ton-Tongue Toffees and Canary Creams.

* * *

Wednesday evening was New Year's Eve, and Professor McGonagall let Harry and Draco go early from their afternoon detention with her. It was really more of a class than detention - she had started working with them on mastering the intricacies of their Magebond - but for appearances' sake, they called it detention. Snape had kept them slaving away in the dungeons all day on Monday, until McGonagall found out. With tight-lipped authority as deputy headmistress, she'd insisted that for the rest of the week the boys had to be given a proper lunch break and would then serve detention with her in the afternoons. Since Harry felt very keenly that he'd scoured enough burnt and revoltingly gooey cauldrons in that one day to last a lifetime, especially while Draco was only restocking potions ingredients in the school storeroom, a job Snape declared Harry was not "qualified" to do, he was extremely grateful for her intervention.

They took full advantage of the mini-holiday and spent the time alone together in Draco's room, finishing the chess game they'd started in the hospital wing, and having another private romantic dinner. Dobby had fallen all over himself to be of service to "the great and honorable Mages" since his tearful reunion with his brother Nobby, and at Harry's request, had been delighted to re-spell the table in Draco's room to give them their meals. Harry suspected they also got extra-special desserts that the tables in the Great Hall did not.

Draco very neatly won their second chess game, just as he'd claimed he would, and after their delicious candlelit dinner, Harry quite willingly paid the price. Lying now in Draco's arms, he felt boneless and melted, poured out warm and languid as a puddle of sunlight. His pulse sang in his ears, heat pooled under his hands resting on warm skin, and air cooled the back of his neck where his hair was damp. He roused himself a little with effort and came up on one elbow to look down into Draco's face. His hand skimmed lightly up Draco's bare chest leaving a glimmering trail of golden sparks over Draco's skin. Light gray eyes, warm and sated and sleepy, opened to gaze back.

"Best New Year's Eve fireworks ever," whispered Harry.

Draco smiled lazily. "What fireworks?"

Harry bent his head and kissed Draco softly. "These," he said. "They were quite spectacular."

"Ah," said Draco, pulling Harry down into another slower, stirring kiss. "Who said they were over?"

And indeed, it was nearly midnight before they finally got up and dressed hurriedly to join in the castle festivities. Draco grabbed their brooms from the corner by the bookcase and they flew out through his opened window. It was a startlingly cold, clear night; the air was frosty and fresh with new-fallen snow, the sky lit up with stars and a bright silver sliver of moon. They took off in an exhilarating race, chasing each other once around the castle, mufflers and cloaks streaming out behind them, finally stopping to hover a little distance off from the top of the Astronomy Tower.

A faculty party was in full swing within the ramparts on the top of the Astronomy Tower. Hagrid, dressed in his best hairy brown suit and orange-striped tie waved at them with an enormous flagon of mulled mead in one hand and two smaller foaming tankards of hot butterbeer in the other. Harry and Draco swooped down to take their butterbeer, but declined to land. As members of next year's faculty they had been invited, but neither of them was quite comfortable yet with the idea of attending parties with their professors. In truth, the fact that their professors actually had parties had been enough of a shock, as that had been well concealed from them as students.

Hovering just beyond the battlements, Harry and Draco clicked their tankards together in a toast and drained them in one long swallow, then set the empty tankards on the edge of the parapet. Harry grinned to see Madam Trelawney, a glass of sherry in her hand and moonlight glinting off in all directions from her big thick glasses and beads, dancing with . . . well . . . no one. She was simply swaying and pirouetting happily to and fro as if to some lilting tune only she could hear.

Draco reached out and pulled Harry closer. "This job may not be as boring as I thought it was going to be," he laughed.

"I don't know," laughed Harry back. "Taking on the first and second years' Potions classes under Snape. . . ."

Any further conversation, however, was cut short as the bells in the clock tower rang out the hour of midnight and a great cheer of "Happy New Year!" went up from the parapet. Flitwick and McGonagall sent great flares of red-and-blue and purple-and-orange sparks up into the air with their wands, which popped and whirled in the dark violet sky. Professor Sprout sent up a flare of glowing green streamers that seemed to form a large growing vine that burst into blooms of pink and yellow sparks. Dumbledore even conjured a large dragon of firecrackers that took off into the sky and exploded into a shower of multi-colored whistling stars and spinning, fizzing wheels. Harry and Draco joined hands and sent up their own magical addition to the fireworks display. A huge, brilliant ball of gold and crystal-white sparks burst overhead with a loud bang to enthusiastic applause from the tower.

Other rockets and firecrackers and sparklers were set off then, but Harry, still holding Draco's hand, banked his broom and led Draco up higher into the dark, glittering night sky.

"P-K?" asked Harry in a hushed voice, when they stopped to hover again. "Do you think we'll still be here this time next year?"

"Shhhh." Draco pulled him close. "First kiss for the New Year, Harry," he said softly, leaning in to kiss Harry just as a great volley of rockets exploded above them in a streaming fountain of fiery colored stars. Harry was never entirely sure later if the flashing lights and booming noises had really been fireworks or merely the impact of that kiss and the pounding of his heart, but one thing was definitely certain. He'd found the love he'd longed for that lonely night not so long ago in the corridor. It was a new year now, and everything had changed.

"Happy New Year, Draco," whispered Harry, as they held each other tightly above the castle that would be, for the time being, their home.

"Happy New Year, D-W," whispered Draco back.

It was a new year full of both exciting and fearful possibilities. But whatever came, however uncertain the future might be, Harry and Draco knew without a shadow of a doubt, that they would face it all together.