Chapter 3
October 9 - October 14
Day 11, Friday
Draco woke up and groaned. Shit. That had been rather vivid. He turned over in bed, automatically checking that Potter was still asleep.
Thank god, yes. He'd been afraid he'd been talking in his sleep, and considering what was going on in his dream, that would've been awkward to say the least.
That was the second time these last two nights he'd woken up this dissatisfied; he'd given up counting the times he'd woken up to sticky sheets instead. Thank god for Marcus Flint's cleaning spells, or he'd have to explain to Potter why he needed to have his bedclothes washed every day. He tried to ignore the discomfort and go back to sleep for precisely ten seconds before getting out of bed and heading towards the washroom.
"Malfoy?" Potter's sleepy voice stopped him. "You all right?"
"Um, y-yeah," he stammered, cursing Potter's timing.
Potter sat up slowly. "No, you're not. What's wrong?"
"Er, nothing, I... I have to go," Draco mumbled, shutting the door and leaning his back against it before taking care of business as quickly and quietly as possible, relief flooding him as he finished. He stayed leaning against the door, floating down from the high, then cleaned himself up and waited for a few more minutes, hoping to find Potter asleep when he went back to bed.
He took a deep breath and quietly opened the washroom door, realizing as soon as he did so that Potter was still sitting up in bed, arms clasped about his drawn-up knees.
"Are you all right?" he repeated as Draco came back to bed. Draco nodded.
"Er... should we talk about this?" Potter said quietly.
"What's there to talk about?"
"I... I know what's happening," Potter said in a rush, "Pomfrey said-"
"Yeah, well, so now you know." Draco was grateful that the room was too dark for Potter to see the blush heating his face, and grateful also that his voice sounded perfectly matter-of-fact. "What's there to talk about?"
"I just thought - I mean, is there - um, is there anything, um... oh never mind." Potter lay back down and turned over, giving up.
Draco lay watching him, noting the tight, uncomfortable line of Potter's shoulders, feeling his restlessness and confusion.
He blew out his breath. "Potter."
"Yeah."
"Are you having dreams too?"
Potter sighed. "Yeah."
"Since when?"
"A few days. I don't know, it's hard to tell."
"What about?"
"What do you think? Pretty much what Pomfrey said." She had informed them with clinical detachment that they could expect the normal night-time teenage male fantasies to start becoming more and more specific and focussed on one another, instead of random images, sensations, or people.
There was a long, strained silence.
"I was really hoping this wouldn't happen," Potter said softly.
"You were hoping for a platonic bond too?"
"Yeah."
"You knew it wasn't likely. Almost impossible. We're not brothers, or lifelong best friends."
"I was still hoping, though." Potter turned over to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling miserably. "And apparently, so were you. Right?"
Draco sighed heavily. "Yeah."
"We'll have to tell Pomfrey."
"You don't say."
Potter closed his eyes. "I don't think..." His brow furrowed and he seemed to be searching for the right words. "I don't think I can do this," he finally said, very softly.
"I don't think we really have a choice," Draco pointed out.
"This is like... it's almost like rape, it's being compelled to have sex when you really don't want to-"
"Merlin, Potter, why do you think involuntary bonding spells are so very illegal?" Draco snapped. Deliver us from the interminably thick, he thought, but stopped himself before saying it out loud. Pomfrey had pointed out, quite rightly, that if he upset Potter too much, Potter might not be able to relax enough to let nature take its course. And while that hadn't bothered Draco in the least at first, he'd come to the grudging realization that it mattered, quite a bit. The more uneasy Potter felt, the longer it would take to get past his resistance. And any kind of pressure was not really an option. His nerves were jangling from Potter's discomfort right now; make Potter any more defensive, and Draco would feel it through their bond.
Wonderful. Here he was, getting seriously aroused more and more often, and the only person who could help him deal with his arousal was a pathetic loser too scared at the thought of losing his virginity and too scared of his own feelings to be able to do anything about either.
And even more infuriating, said pathetic loser was apparently also getting seriously turned on, more and more often, which was probably affecting Draco's own level of arousal, and his was probably affecting Potter's, and they were feeding off each other because of their constant proximity and their stupid, stupid bond, and there was nothing Draco could do to help this situation along. Other than try to conjure or at least fake superhuman patience in order to not frighten this bloody child he was bonded to.
"I really don't want to, to do... this," Potter stammered. "I mean - I want to, but I don't."
"You will, eventually. It's not actually rape, Potter. By the time you do it, you definitely want to. Otherwise the person you're bonded to won't even want to try anything, because they can feel your objection to it through the bond."
"You can feel it?"
"Of course I can, you-" Draco nearly bit through his tongue to stop the insults from pouring out. "I can tell. You're scared of both of us right now. Me, because you're afraid I'll come on to you, and yourself, because part of you wants me to come on to you."
"How did you know that?" Potter said after a startled moment.
"It's hardly Advanced Arithmancy, Potter." Draco rubbed his forehead, realizing that in the course of their conversation, he'd gotten turned on, again. He sat up. "So, this is marvellous. We're both feeling this, but your little moral scruples and emotional issues are going to conspire to keep us both on edge for who knows how long. That's marvellous. That's... that's just marvellous." Draco firmly shut his mouth and got out of bed before he could say anything else to upset Potter.
"Where are you going?" Potter said, surprised.
"I'm going to have a long cold shower, you git," Draco said, exasperated. "Go back to sleep."
ooooooo
Day 13, Sunday
"Harry... you can't be afraid of this forever," Lupin said gently that Sunday.
"It's not even that I'm afraid of it, it's, it's, I don't trust him, I don't like him-"
"But-"
"I know. But it's also - we've been fighting even more, ever since-" Harry bit his lip.
Too fast. Everything was out of control.
He desperately wanted to get rid of the dreams, the feelings, the need, the fact that instead of feeling normal, their touches was starting to mean something. Malfoy's hand on Harry's shoulder to get his attention stayed a little too long. Harry's push to get Malfoy out of his way had a bit more force to it, because part of him wanted to pull Malfoy closer instead. They were griping at each other more and more - Harry's clothing draped over their furniture and Malfoy's inability to ever remember where he put his tie were now major issues, and even that had a sexual aspect to it because Harry got distracted by how very alive Malfoy looked when he was really, really angry. Malfoy's snide remarks and drawling mockery were irritating and showed he was in control. His furious tirade at Harry for leaving his robe over an armchair and thereby hiding the essay Malfoy had spent three hours writing... there was no control or detachment there. There was nothing but spectacular anger over something relatively small, something that would never have driven him to such heights of fury had they not had this tension between them.
And Harry could feel Malfoy's desire and anger and frustration too. He no longer even knew which feelings were his and which were Malfoy's, he just knew there were a lot of them and they were intense and they were all wearing him out.
"You need to be around your other friends," Lupin said.
"But it's, it's embarrassing. In class, or at the library, we start fighting and other people hear it, and, and I hate that they're looking at us. And thinking about what's going on and why we're fighting. Some Slytherins actually have bets going on how long it'll take before..." He swallowed hard. "And Hermione says the Prophet and the Quibbler are still talking about us all the time..."
"Yes, I've seen that." Lupin shook his head in disgust. "Remarkably stupid stuff."
"I'm almost glad we don't eat in the Great Hall these days. People staring at us gets pretty tiresome after a while."
"I can imagine," Lupin said. "Are you having friends over to your place?"
"Not as much. I... we..."
How to explain this? How to explain the discomfort when they caught themselves looking at each other too long and realized people around them had probably noticed? It made Harry blush and stammer; it made Malfoy withdraw coldly or cut into Harry even more in class. It made Malfoy sullenly tell his friends he needed to study alone in their quarters, and made Harry turn his friends away too, not wanting to deal with their knowing glances at each other during his and Malfoy's fights, or their irritation at the way Malfoy treated all of them.
It was horrible. Feeling so isolated and angry and... and scared, so often. And aroused, mustn't forget that, aroused all the time. All the bloody time. Distracted by Malfoy's hair, his eyes, the clean line of his jaw... he found himself fantasizing in class so often he was getting used to it, and yet turning his fantasies into reality was just too awful to consider. He'd be in Arithmancy and he'd eventually realize he'd been thinking of touching Malfoy and his hand was actually resting against Malfoy's, and he'd think of lacing their fingers together and getting closer and then - then Malfoy would look at him with a raised eyebrow and he'd feel repelled and angry and scared.
"Harry?"
"I can't. I can't talk about this," Harry said, a lump forming in his throat. He glanced over to where Malfoy was studying, but Malfoy wasn't studying, Malfoy was watching him, and his eyes were dark and hungry and even as they gazed at each other Harry was feeling the need to move closer to him, to touch him and run away and pull him close and scream at him and-
"I can't. I'm sorry. I'll talk to you tomorrow," Harry stammered, and bolted from the sitting room without waiting for Lupin's response.
ooooooo
Day 14, Monday
This was some kind of bizarre psychological torture, thought Draco disconsolately. Potions had never been this dull in almost seven years. It was like Snape was conspiring with whoever set the curse to speak in such a monotonous tone and say such utterly uninteresting things that there was absolutely nothing for Draco's brain to do other than engage in yet another pointless fantasy about Potter. About touching, and holding, and undressing, and moving together, and...
He flushed darkly, unable to concentrate as Potter continued writing next to him, seemingly completely focussed on the lesson and completely oblivious to the turn Draco's thoughts were taking. Draco was rapidly becoming obsessed with the distance between his mouth and Potter's, and Potter was just taking notes. Not even affected through their bond. Draco's anger surged, which unfortunately caused other parts of him to surge too, before he tried to back-pedal and be grateful that Potter wasn't looking at him right now. Otherwise they just might do that oblivious drowning-in-each-other's-gaze thing again and they'd done it too many times and the amused looks on their friends' faces were getting a little old.
So. Potter was not distracted, which was good, because then Draco stood a chance of getting rid of his own distraction. For example, he could take notes, even though they made no sense because the most he could manage to do was write down every sixth or seventh word Snape said. "It recognize and Scandinavian will from turn moreso" were the last words on his page.
Or he could draw a little closer to Potter, just a bit, that would be enough for contact, they'd been doing that more and more lately, it would lessen the gnawing discomfort slightly, maybe...
Potter put his quill down and rubbed his eyes, and Draco glanced at his page.
Potter wasn't taking notes. He'd written out the Danish Futhark Runic alphabet three times and the Greek alphabet once, drawn a picture of a quill, a desk, a chair, Hermione Granger, and twelve little three-dimensional boxes, and set a simple spell to make them all dance across the page.
He elbowed Potter gently. "Pay attention," he murmured. Potter nodded slowly, swallowing hard and picking up his quill and meeting Draco's gaze. Draco felt his heart skip a beat, oh, god, Potter's face was flushed and his lips were slightly parted and Draco's gaze was drawn to them, and Potter was warm and close and his chest was heaving slightly, and the ache was getting worse, god, he couldn't just sit here and do nothing, not when he needed so much to move closer - and he looked down and saw he wasn't the only one showing physical evidence of what was going on inside him, he slid his leg a little closer to Potter, and their legs were pressed against each other, knee to hip, they'd been doing this more and more, lately, but now, now it wasn't comforting, it was maddeningly tantalizing, infuriatingly inadequate, he shifted slightly in his chair, trying to adjust himself discreetly but only succeeded in turning himself on even more, oh god, Potter was moving a little too and he slipped a hand below their desks, touched Potter's leg gently and stilled him. "Don't, that doesn't help," he whispered, and Potter slipped a hand between them too and laced their trembling fingers together and Draco bit his lip to stop a gasp from escaping him.
"We're in class, we can't..." he whispered, frustration growing by the second, this was intolerable, if only he could comfort himself by telling himself that he'd get some relief after class, but he couldn't, Potter was keeping them both at this unbearable level of need-
He clenched his eyes shut and tried to think of something else. No use. He opened his eyes again and Blaise was frowning at him, glancing between him and Potter and raising his eyebrows. Draco shook his head and closed his eyes again, but not before he caught Weasley's blue eyes narrowing, and Weasley reading the situation between them accurately.
"Harry?" Weasley leaned in. "You all right?"
Potter shook his head, letting go of Draco's hand under the desks and covering his face.
"Mr. Potter?" Snape drawled and Draco's stomach flipped over in dismay. "Would you care to tell us which of the properties of ginseng is crucial in this particular potion?"
"No, he wouldn't," Draco said before he could stop himself, distantly appalled at the husky, unsteady tone of his own voice. "Please ask somebody else."
There was a shocked silence, as students turned to look at them and Snape looked taken aback.
"Professor, please ask somebody else," Pansy repeated. Snape cleared his throat and smoothly picked on another student.
"Thanks, Pansy," Draco said quietly.
"You need to get out of class," Weasley was whispering.
"And do what, exactly?" Draco snapped, "Play chess?"
Weasley ignored him. "Look, you can't - Harry, come on. This is stupid. You can't go on like this, you're driving each other mental," he said, his tone worried. Draco felt a surge of gratitude mixed with indignation that Weasley should be the one to plead his case to Potter. Weasley was still talking urgently, but Draco could sense Potter's walls going up and knew Weasley was wasting his time.
"All right, I'm leaving," he decided abruptly, adjusted his robes and started to raise his hand.
"No, don't! Malf-" Potter grabbed at his arm and Draco shook him off.
"Professor?"
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"May I be excused?" he said as evenly as he could, and Snape's gaze flickered between him and Potter before he gave a curt nod. Draco stood up and walked out of the class, past a roomful of curious eyes, with a furious Potter in tow.
"What the hell was that - do you have no sense of self-control at all?"
"A damn sight more than you have - your own best friend is telling you to get out and get on with it, and you're too stubborn to-"
"Leave Ron out of this!"
"You're going to drive us both insane!" he shouted at Potter, losing all patience.
"You're the one who's driving us both insane! You insist on us being alone almost all the time and when we are around other people you're fucking impossible - how am I supposed to want to-"
"The curse does not say You Will Socialize With Other People, or You Will Coo Like Fucking Lovebirds, Potter! It does say, very specifically, what we're supposed to do, and if you weren't a half-blood Muggle-raised TWIT we would have done it by now!"
"FUCK YOU!" Potter yelled at him.
"Believe me, I'd love to! Unfortunately I'm married to 'I'm Saving Myself Forever For God Only Knows What' and I swear if you tell me this isn't a marriage I will kill you, this is exactly what marriage is all about, NOT fucking the person you're supposed to fuck, and not being able to fuck anybody else either!"
"I don't TRUST you and I don't LIKE you, can you get that through your thick head!"
"Why can't you get it through your thick head that trust and liking have nothing to do with a bond?"
"You-"
"All right!" Malfoy shouted. "Fine! Have it your way. Lunch is in an hour, we'll go to the Great Hall. And until then, if you'll excuse me I'm going to take yet another freezing cold shower and try to stay as far away from you as humanly possible."
ooooooo
By the time they arrived at the Great Hall for lunch, the anger between them was so thick they could hardly see. Potter headed straight for the Gryffindor table and on impulse, Draco dropped into a seat at the Slytherin table. Potter stopped, looking back at Draco in surprise. "What are you doing?"
"I said we would eat at the Great Hall. I didn't say where."
"I'm not sitting at your table."
"Fine. Have a nice lunch," Draco spat out, grabbing a plate and getting himself lunch. Soup, salad, pumpkin juice, all regular fare, back at his old table with his old house mates and it all would have felt wonderfully homey if only his head hadn't been pounding and his eyesight getting a little blurry.
He started to eat mechanically, not joining into the conversation around him, willing the physical and emotional discomfort away and trying desperately to focus on something, anything, else. Like, for example, the interesting way in which the conversation was ebbing and flowing at the Slytherin table, as his tablemates traded curious looks about his presence and dropped odd, awkward silences here and there.
Interesting, yes. Except that it was difficult to focus on that when the world seemed to be narrowing down to nothing but disorienting physical and emotional sensations and commands. Aching desire, buzzing, nausea, frazzled nerves, headache, itch, pit-of-the-stomach dread, weariness. Touch, lie down, get up, move, scream, give in, cry, sleep...
He gripped the edge of the table and focussed on the table top as the world started spinning and the voices around him got louder and softer and silent and screaming and
"Draco? Draco? Are you all-" and then the table swam out of sight and the world went black.
ooooooo
Snape looked up in time to see Draco Malfoy suddenly slump forward and Pansy Parkinson catch him on her shoulder, the rest of his tablemates getting up and exclaiming with alarm - and at the Gryffindor table, Potter stood up unsteadily, turning towards the Slytherin table and choking out "No-" before he too fell and was caught by Weasley. In an instant Snape and McGonagall were rushing towards their tables, wading into the small crowds of Slytherin and Gryffindor students. Snape caught Draco, taking in his ashen features, trembling form, half-closed eyes. Draco moaned softly, trying to move away from Snape's touch, his breath coming in shaking gasps.
"Severus!" McGonagall called out, "bring him here." But Snape was already doing so, muttering a lightening spell and picking Draco up in his arms like a child, and hurrying to the Gryffindor table where McGonagall had placed Potter. He gently put Draco down next to him, touching their shoulders together, and let out his breath with relief as both boys seem to sense each other's presence and relax, their breath less gasping, their shaking less pronounced.
McGonagall was watching them worriedly, and Weasley was saying something to her. "Yes, do," she said. "We need Madam Pomfrey." Weasley took off at a run. Snape smoothed Draco's hair back from his forehead, noting that his skin was damp and his pulse racing.
"Poppy warned us that this might happen," McGonagall said. "I should have insisted they sit at the same table, they weren't supposed to be out of contact, but they were both so fed up with each other-"
"Let me through!" Madam Pomfrey's brusque voice could be heard. "Come on, now!" She bustled into view, taking in the two unconscious boys on the table.
"What happened?" she demanded, touching their foreheads and beginning an examination of both of them.
"They were eating-" McGonagall began.
"Where?"
"Potter was at the Gryffindor table and Malfoy was with the Slytherins-" McGonagall faltered as Pomfrey's head snapped up and pinned her with an incredulous glare.
"They were at separate tables!" she hissed, and McGonagall and Snape quailed. Potter gave a small groan and moved and she murmured something under her breath that seemed to comfort him, before fixing McGonagall and Snape with her glare again. "Who allowed that to happen?"
"Poppy, they were driving each other mad, they-"
"Well of course they were driving each other mad, anybody would, forced to spend all day every day with somebody they hated, but that's not the point! They were not supposed to be out of close contact for more than five minutes at a time! What part of that was not clear?"
"They seemed to be all right-" Snape began.
"Do they look all right to you? Call yourselves responsible adults - you should have handcuffed them together before letting them do something this stupid! Do you realize that their progress may be set back by weeks? You are supposed to keep them safe from their own idiocy, and instead you let this happen!"
The students stood gaping as Pomfrey lashed out at two professors in public, and the two professors took it silently.
"Now, step back, all of you - out of my way! Minerva, Severus, pick them up, help me get them to the hospital. Honestly, I can't - that's all right, Mr. Malfoy," she said soothingly as Draco's eyes fluttered open and he made a small fearful sound. "We're just going to the hospital, you'll be all right - going to have nightmares for a week, that one, mark my words - no, that's all right, it's just us, Mr. Potter," she shushed him too. "You'll be all right in a few minutes..." and the small procession left the dining hall, Pomfrey continuing her tirade well into the hallway.
ooooooo
Day 15, Tuesday
Draco opened his eyes and groaned. The bloody hospital. And his head was killing him. In fact, most of him hurt abominably.
"Draco? Are you awake?" a soft voice said, close to his ear, and he turned to see Pansy next to his bed.
"I'm at the hospital again?"
"Yeah. How much do you remember?"
"Not much. We were at the dining hall and I felt dizzy-"
"You were positively grey. Then you fainted, and so did Potter, and Madam Pomfrey brought you both here."
Bloody hell. Sure enough, there was Potter, still unconscious next to him. He groaned again, rubbing his eyes and trying to think past the searing pain.
"Draco? Are you all right?"
"No," he managed to gasp. "Get Pomfrey-" she sped away.
"You're up now, are you Mr. Malfoy? Well you'll notice you're feeling a little less than 100 per cent. You did yourselves a lot of damage with that little stunt."
"I just wanted to get away from-"
"Yes, no doubt. But that splitting headache and other pains you're feeling right now are your payment for that little moment of separate peace."
"Didn't feel like peace - oh," he gasped, trying to muffle his gasps of pain.
"Here," Pomfrey grabbed Potter's shoulder and manoeuvred him around, much to Draco's confusion. "I'm trying to get him so that you have as much surface area touching each other as possible."
"What?"
"It'll make the pain lessen. Here, pretend he's a teddy bear, that ought to do it."
Blushing a little at Pansy being there to witness this, but willing to do anything that might lessen the pain, Draco took Potter into his arms, tucking Potter's head into his own shoulder and arranging himself against Potter's unconscious form. He sighed as the pain lessened perceptibly.
"Better?"
"Yeah," he mumbled, closing his eyes. God, yes, much better, but still horrible. He couldn't imagine ever wanting to let go of Potter again, not if it meant feeling the way he'd been feeling for the last few minutes.
A wave of resentment and weariness flooded through him. He wasn't supposed to have to deal with this. He was supposed to be thinking of NEWTs and the ascension of the Dark Lord, not worrying about whether his head would split open in agony if he didn't cuddle up to his family's - and, incidentally, the Dark Lord's - mortal enemy like a bloody teddy bear.
ooooooo
"Draco."
Oh, wonderful. Draco kept his eyes closed, in too much pain to really feel as mortified as he probably should. "Father."
There was a small scraping sound as Lucius Malfoy took a chair next to Draco's bed.
Then a long, long silence.
"Severus explained what happened." Lucius' tone was very mild. Draco nodded. "You look terrible."
Draco nodded again.
"Are you able to speak?" Lucius' mild tone held a hint of reproof, and Draco opened his eyes and tried to meet his steady gaze. He sighed, looking away.
"I would like to hear it from you," Lucius said, his tone still the epitome of reason and concerned fatherhood. "Because it appears that you brought this upon yourselves."
"We did."
"I see."
Another long silence.
"Has he regained consciousness yet?"
No need to ask who 'he' was, as 'he' was currently peacefully slumbering, his head resting on Draco's shoulder and his body pressed up along the length of Draco's.
"Not yet. Madam Pomfrey says he's all right, it just hit him a bit harder than me."
"I see."
These long silences were getting uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, Father," Draco said, closing his eyes again.
"I would imagine so," Lucius said. "May I ask why you decided to disregard medical advice and all common sense and allow yourself to be separated from your very newly bonded spouse?"
"I don't know."
"That seems unlikely."
Draco sighed. "I couldn't stand him any more. He's... he's impossible-" and with vague horror, he realized his throat was closing up and he was in real danger of starting to cry. He held his breath and sent his mind off to other places - Arithmancy tables seemed as good a place as any - to avoid ending up crying in front of his father, of all people.
Lucius waited patiently for Draco to regain his composure. "Your professors indicated that you have been rather hostile to one another lately. It's unfortunate that your mother and I had to hear it from them instead of you. I was under the impression that the sharing of accurate and relevant information was part of the reason that you were supposed to speak with us every night?"
Draco swallowed hard. "I didn't - I didn't want to... it didn't seem that important, we've been fighting the whole time, I didn't want to bother you with-" he cut himself off as Potter stirred.
Potter opened his eyes, blinking sleepily at his surroundings and raising his head off of Draco's shoulder. He drew in a startled breath at the sight of Draco's father staring at him dispassionately two feet away. He started to sit up and Draco tightened his hold on him.
"Don't. Your head'll feel like it's falling to pieces. Besides, we're supposed to stay in contact as much as possible." Potter's body felt stiff with resistance and discomfort, and Draco unthinkingly rubbed Potter's shoulder gently, trying to calm him a little. Potter, never taking his eyes off Lucius, gradually relaxed and settled back against Draco's shoulder with a sigh.
"How touching," Lucius said with mild disdain. "If you had conducted yourselves as responsible adults, this charming little public display of affection would not have been necessary, would it?"
"We can't know that, Mr. Malfoy," said Pomfrey, who had noticed Potter waking up and had approached their bed. "We informed you that Madam Pantere believes the spell was not cast competently. They might have ended up in the hospital eventually anyway, from side effects caused by the inadequacy of the spell."
"They might have. They did not. They ended up here because they behaved as children instead of grown men."
"They are not grown men, sir," Pomfrey stated firmly. "They may be legally of age, but they are still teenage boys forced to face a situation that would be difficult for anybody, adult or not." Pomfrey fixed Lucius with a level gaze. "In any case, it might be a good idea to save the recriminations for later, when they are more fully recovered. Now if you'll excuse us, I need to examine my patients." She waited a beat. "In private."
Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her, but stood and calmly left the hospital, not deigning to look at Draco or Potter as he left.
"Now then, Potter," Pomfrey said briskly, "We'll see how you're doing and then see about getting you some dinner."
"Dinner? How long was I out?"
"Almost thirty hours." Potter blanched. "Yes, that was quite a stunt you two pulled," she said dryly. "Don't worry about it, what's done is done. Now, sit up, please. Malfoy, you too, this won't take but a minute."
ooooooo
Draco sighed against Potter's shoulder, wishing he could just go back to sleep and forget any of this had ever happened. Unfortunately, Graciele Esposito, the Bonding Spell Disorders specialist from St. Mungo's, wanted to have a meeting with the entire merry band of parent-figures, professors and medical personnel who were part of their special 'case.' And so here they were. Still in their hospital bed, finally allowed to sit up but still forced to remain in very close contact or risk severe discomfort, with enough people arranged around them to hold a bloody séance.
"All right, let's begin," said Esposito. "Obviously, we're all very worried about what happened yesterday, and would like to make sure it doesn't happen again. You boys were lucky; you may have fainted, but you appear to be all right except for some minor discomfort. The damage could have been much, much worse. Either or both of you could have suffered a heart attack, or gone into a permanent coma." She fixed them with a serious look. "And in any case, your progress has been thrown off, which means that it will probably take you even longer than we thought to get back to a state where you can be apart safely and comfortably for longer than a few minutes. This is very serious, boys. It's no joke, messing around with a bonding spell."
Draco bit his lip, not needing a bond to feel Potter's resentment and fear, as Potter's body grew tense against his and Draco was feeling the same way anyway. Potter tightened his arm around Draco's shoulder slightly.
"However. I trust you've both been frightened enough by what happened that you will behave more responsibly in the future?"
Draco and Potter quickly nodded.
"All right then. Madam Pomfrey and I have spent the day discussing the situation while you were unconscious, and we've decided to make a few changes to deal with your particular situation. The most important change concerns your living arrangements." She cleared her throat. "After speaking to your friends from both houses, we believe part of the problem is that while we've tried to give you guidance and support from adults, we've isolated you from your peers at a time when you need them most.
"I... I think we may have been too hasty in treating you as adults. That, combined with the fact that your houses are generally considered rivals... well. At the time, we felt there was no viable alternative to removing you from your houses. We now feel that was a mistake. You were told when you came to Hogwarts that your houses were to be your families while you were here, and we removed those families without really replacing them with anything equivalent."
"But Malfoy can't come with me into the Tower, and I can't go with him into the Dungeons, there's nothing else to be done-" Potter began, and McGonagall spoke up.
"There is, Potter. We simply did not think it would be feasible when this first happened. In light of yesterday's events, Professor Snape and I have spoken to your house mates and explained the situation to them, and decreed that you both be allowed access to both houses. You are encouraged sit at each other's tables in the Great Hall, use each other's common rooms and even go back to sleeping in your dormitories if you wish. And if you choose to do that we will teach you a spell to put on the curtains to effectively make a separate room for yourselves once they're drawn, so that nobody will be able to walk in on you or overhear anything."
Draco was almost amused enough to smirk through his weariness at Potter's embarrassment at that last remark. Gryffindors. So prudish.
"We're also going to take the chance on other spells," Esposito told them. "Cheering charms, calming spells, things like that. We felt it wasn't prudent to do that, especially since we'd discovered your particular bonding was not done with the greatest of skill, but I think you've conclusively proven that doing nothing is disastrous. We'll simply have to take our chances and monitor you to make sure any spells we use don't react negatively with your bond."
"Any questions?" asked Pomfrey.
Draco shook his head tiredly, not wanting to prolong this discussion any further.
"I have a question," Lucius Malfoy said, and Draco was hard-pressed not to groan in dismay - not only because a question would mean he couldn't go to sleep yet, but because he recognized his father's 'I am going to get my way despite the fact that nobody here will like it' tone. And knowing the people gathered around them... he couldn't imagine his father would be able to bully them quickly and efficiently and let him get some rest anytime soon.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"It is my understanding that this current... breakdown in their bond was due in large part to Mr. Potter's reluctance in accepting certain aspects of the bonding spell?"
Draco could feel Potter's heart beat faster as Potter took a startled breath.
"I wouldn't say that's entirely accurate-" Healer Esposito began and Lucius interrupted her smoothly.
"I assume that you will be dealing with that reluctance by magical means as well?"
"What?" Potter sat up, outraged, and Draco ground his teeth in frustration as the room erupted into argument.
How completely typical, and what a complete waste of time. His father was, as usual, convinced that he could intimidate anybody into doing whatever he wanted, but judging from Potter's reaction, Potter would sooner agree to a Cruciatus curse than any 'reluctance-dispelling' magical spell, charm or potion. A brief glance around the room showed that nobody except possibly Snape felt that Lucius' suggestion had any merit.
And knowing Potter's deeply ingrained stubbornness, and knowing too that Potter would be fully backed by Dumbledore and McGonagall, to say nothing of a distinguished Healer from St. Mungo's and Madam Pomfrey, Draco knew without a doubt that his father would lose.
He rubbed his eyes tiredly, quickly losing the train of the discussion. He didn't need to listen anyway. Potter would say that he would not consent to any more spells that interfered with his personal life. His father would point out that it wasn't just Potter's personal life that was being affected, but Draco's as well, and that since any reluctance on Potter's part was solely a product of inadequate Muggle upbringing it certainly shouldn't be taken seriously. McGonagall would claim that there was no reason why they couldn't be patient, Pomfrey would point out that Lucius was not a healer and had no idea what he was talking about, Snape would say that Lucius had a point and Potter was insufferably stubborn, the Healer would no doubt say something profound, Dumbledore would mostly just observe, and Draco had no idea what the bloody werewolf would say but it didn't matter anyway because nobody but dotty old Dumbledore and Potter himself would put any weight on what Lupin said anyway.
Draco leaned back against the pillows, utterly uninterested in the ebb and flow of the arguments around him, and thought instead about the Slytherin common room.
Slytherin house... he'd just about reconciled himself to never returning, and had told himself it didn't matter. It was just a dormitory, after all. Rather better furnished than most, as Slytherin tended to attract slightly more wealthy and refined students than, say, Hufflepuff, but still merely a school dormitory. Not worth getting attached to, especially not for the Malfoy heir. He'd even told himself that, despite the lamentable circumstances and the horror of sharing his living space with Potter, it was actually rather pleasant to have a suite of his own. Rather more appropriate for his station in life than being jammed into a dormitory with seventy other students.
Except that a small part of his mind kept reminding him that he would have an entire lifetime of his own quarters. This was the last year he would have the opportunity to live with a group of people his own age; studying together, forging alliances that would influence his adult life, even having fun together once in a while, doing the stupid things teenagers were supposed to do before they settled down to familial duty.
That small part of his mind had mourned the sudden loss of all of that as much as other parts of him had mourned the loss of Quidditch, the loss of his freedom, the loss of any suitable match that would benefit the Malfoys, the loss of prestige to their family because of the dismal match he was stuck with, the probable loss of his father's influence among the Dark Lord's supporters...
And now he could have back at least a tiny part of what he had lost.
Or could he?
He could go back to Slytherin, yes. But he'd be doing so with his ever-present sidekick. What would that mean? Would anybody trust him - as much as any Slytherin could be trusted, that is? Would anybody lower their guard enough to speak frankly to him of things Potter shouldn't hear? Would anybody believe that when Potter said he had a silence spell cast, he really meant it? For that matter, did Draco trust that himself?
How would he fit in again? How would his house mates feel, having been forced to accept Potter's presence among them? Especially since they would be accepting it solely to help Draco, whose bond was killing him because he was... what? Lonely? The Malfoy heir, unable to handle a slight inconvenience like an unpleasant marriage because he was lonely?
Oh, shit. That wouldn't be good. His house mates would have less respect for him, and would probably feel that he was indebted to them for allowing him back amongst them.
Although that might depend on how Snape had 'decreed' that Potter was to be welcomed into Slytherin house. Snape was a shrewd player, and had always been supportive of the Malfoys. Draco should probably ask him how he'd put the situation across to the house. Hopefully he'd made Potter sound like the lonely scared child he was and indicated that since the Gryffindor needed his house, it would be unfair to not allow Draco access to his own house, whether Draco needed it or not. He should probably ask Snape-
"...Draco?"
Draco suddenly realized everyone was silent and looking at him, and he stifled his alarm at the realization that the last voice he remembered hearing was his father's and he had absolutely no idea what he'd been talking about.
"I'm sorry, Father, could you repeat that?" he said, trying to keep his voice casual.
"I asked what you thought," said Lucius with the air of impatient condescension that always stung Draco.
"About-"
"About using magical means to facilitate the sexual part of your bond," Pomfrey said bluntly.
"No," Draco said without thinking, and almost bit his tongue in horror as he realized he'd just done. Flatly disagreed with his father, in front of other people. Panic threatened to flood him as he met Lucius' incredulous gaze and desperately tried to maintain a casual air while frantically trying to figure out how to salvage the situation. Shit shit shit shit shit how could he have just said that what the hell was he thinking shit shit shit-
Relax. Breathe. It's all right.
He almost heard the words; felt the panic shimmer and break like a bubble, realized there was no emergency here. He glanced down at Potter's hand, calmly resting on his arm. So he'd disagreed; as long as he didn't show blatant disrespect towards Lucius, there was a chance that Lucius could be made to accept what he had said with a modicum of grace.
"I mean, obviously it's a good idea-" the hand on his arm tightened painfully, "but I don't think we need to resort to that yet, especially if we're not sure how other spells will affect the bond." The hand relaxed. He smiled, "And, no offence, but being the victim of one botched personal spell doesn't make me terribly eager to try out another even more personal spell, in case that one's botched too. I don't even want to imagine how that one could go wrong," he shuddered exaggeratedly and there was a small rustle of amusement among the adults.
And thank Merlin and Mordred, the dangerous light in his father's eyes was gone and there was instead a small smile curving his lips. And the feel off Potter was... cautious acceptance. Interesting.
He looked down at Potter's hand, still on his arm, looked up again. Potter was watching him curiously, his head tilted to one side like he was trying to figure something out.
"In any case, you won't have to worry about anything like that for a few days at least," Healer Esposito said. "As I said, your bond was damaged. You're too weak to feel anything sexual, probably for another week. By then, who knows, maybe you will have worked things out. Miracles have been known to happen."
There was a small pause.
"Right, then," Pomfrey said, glancing over both of them. "We've still got a few other things to discuss, but I'd like to finish this up as soon as possible. I've got two patients here who need to sleep."
ooooooo
Finally. All done. Draco's eyes were closing even as his father left the room. He lay down, blessed relief flowing through him. Sleep, thank god.
He mumbled "Potter, did you do something to me during that meeting? When my father asked me what I thought about spells for you?"
"Yeah, did you feel something?" Potter said, yawning and lying down too.
"Yeah, you'll have to tell me what you did," Draco yawned too, turning onto his side, drawing close to Potter and throwing an arm over Potter's chest.
"Yeah, OK, tomorrow." Potter drew Draco's arm closer and settled himself against Draco. "Did you mean it when you said you didn't want to use them?"
"Bloody hell, yes," Draco muttered. "Fucking stupid idea."
Potter chuckled. "You'll have to explain what you mean by that."
"Tomorrow," they both said, and Draco smiled tiredly.
"Good night, Potter."
"Yeah, good night."
ooooooo
Day 16, Wednesday
Harry stifled a yawn as he tried to make himself concentrate on his Potions readings. Good god, how could anybody enjoy this or do it as a living.
He glanced over at Malfoy, still sleeping, wondering if he should ask for help when Malfoy woke up. Decided not to. Malfoy might be one of the best students in Potions, but he was a lousy teacher - no patience, no gift for explaining the concepts, no desire to help other students. Occasionally Harry had seen him help out fellow Slytherins, but his help always seemed to be bought by large favours.
Besides, it wasn't as though he needed any more social contact with Malfoy than was absolutely necessary.
Harry rubbed his eyes, wondering if maybe he should just go back to sleep, but feeling a little out of sorts. That seemed to be all they'd been doing today. Other than breakfast and lunch, and brief visits from Pomfrey, a few teachers and friends, most of their day had been spent unconscious. Pomfrey had explained that they were recovering and should just allow themselves to rest for the next couple of days, but Harry was getting bored.
However. Reading Potions certainly wasn't helping his boredom. He put his book away and lay down, automatically fitting himself along Malfoy's sleeping form. He stared blankly at their night-table, counting the drawers and nicks and scratches on it, then stared at the shelves, trying to figure out what Pomfrey kept in them.
"Potter?" Malfoy's sleepy voice was followed by Malfoy turning over and squinting at the ceiling. "What time is it?"
"Almost five."
"Oh." Malfoy rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Mm, you never told me what you did last night," he said fuzzily.
"When?"
"When my father asked me a question."
"Oh, that." Harry tried to think. "I don't know, really - I think I just tried to project calm at you."
"Project calm?"
"You were – tense." Harry barely stopped himself before he could say 'scared'. "I tried to imagine defusing that. Did it work?"
"Yeah."
"What did it feel like?" Malfoy shrugged. "How did you know I did something?"
"I don't know." Malfoy thought for a minute. "It... it felt odd. Like there was somebody suggesting how I should feel, inside my mind. A bit like feeling what you feel through the bond. But... different." There was a slight pause. "What made you think of doing it?"
"I don't know. I think I just remembered what Pomfrey told us that first day, about some of the advantages of bonding, and that was one of them - being able to help the other person feel steadier."
Malfoy frowned. "I didn't need you to do that."
Harry thought quickly. Yes, he bloody well had - his panic had been flooding through to Harry from their bond - but Malfoy apparently didn't want to admit to it. "We were both tired. And I wanted to get back to sleep and I thought if you had extra help to help you think of what to say, you might be able to end the discussion faster."
Malfoy nodded. "Yeah, well, it worked."
"Imagine that," said Harry dryly. "Finally, a benefit to this stupid thing. And it only took sixteen days to find it." Malfoy snickered.
"Why didn't you agree with your father about the... you know, the spells?" Harry asked, taking advantage of this unexpectedly civil conversation they were having.
"I knew you'd never agree to it. You're too stubborn, and Dumbledore and McGonagall were going to back you up anyway. Waste of time, talking about it."
Harry nodded. That made sense. It was a little surprising that Malfoy had seen that, but he supposed even Malfoy could sometimes see the blatantly obvious and recognize a lost cause when he saw one.
"Do you suppose they'll let us go tomorrow?" he asked idly.
"Probably not. Pomfrey said it'll take a few days before we don't need to sleep all the time."
"Mm." Harry closed his eyes.
"Damn," said Malfoy suddenly.
"What?"
"We had a paper due for Transfiguration today."
"I think McGonagall might be persuaded to allow us a bit of extra time."
"I don't like getting so far behind in school work."
"Why do you care?" Harry asked curiously.
"What?"
"About your marks, about school work. It's not like you have to get top grades in order to be hired by the Ministry or anything."
"God, Potter, you are clueless," Malfoy snickered. "It's not about getting a job, it's about earning respect in order to have influence over other people. Just because you're the heir of a respected family, that doesn't mean you can just sit back and let your name do everything for you."
"It doesn't?"
"No, you twit. If you're a blithering idiot, no mere name is enough to earn anybody's respect. My father doesn't just get people to do what he wants because he's from an old family; he's also very intelligent and people know it."
"He's also an arrogant manipulating-" Harry bit back the rest of his opinion and Malfoy chuckled.
"You say that as though it's a bad thing."
"It is."
"Potter, should I remind you that that's your father-in-law you're talking about?"
"Oh god, no," Harry groaned, and Malfoy laughed. Harry smiled, then felt a sudden shock of realization.
Malfoy had laughed at something Harry had said. Not maliciously, not derisively, but with genuine humour. What's more, he'd teased him, and not in a malicious way either. Like one would tease a friend. And they'd been having a perfectly civil conversation - and not for the first time, either. Just an exchange of opinions and ideas, with no ulterior motive of hurting one another.
Harry swallowed hard. Things had changed, again; they'd changed without Harry really noticing, and he was only now coming to that realization at this particular moment in time, as they lay in each other's arms, where they'd been for the last couple of days. The fact that they'd ended up here because they loathed each other so much they'd deliberately done something amazingly dangerous just to get away from each other didn't seem to matter as much as the fact that they weren't actively hating each other right now. Whether it was the forced continual contact or the exhaustion or something else, they were currently existing in a place beyond their hatred and resentment and it was... a little frightening.
"What does he think about all of this?" Harry asked, grasping for something to say to keep him from thinking about this too much.
"Father? He's delighted. He always hoped I'd marry far below my station, to somebody completely inappropriate in just about every conceivable way. This exceeds his wildest dreams."
Harry noted the waspish tone and tried not to think about what it meant that part of him was rather relieved to hear it. "Does he blame you?"
"For walking through a door? Merlin, Potter, my father has high expectations of me but I don't think even he could think that this is my fault."
"Still, I'm sure this is making things... awkward for your family."
"I'm sure it is," Malfoy said curtly.
"Doesn't he tell you?"
"With you in the room every time we talk? Oddly, no."
"I use a silence spell."
"Yes, and Slytherins are well known for trusting the honesty of their rivals. It's part of how we get ahead in life."
Harry decided to drop the subject. They were getting into a dicey area, and while part of him was a little relieved to be back on familiar semi-hostile territory, he didn't want to go overboard with it. He briefly debated asking Malfoy what he thought about going back to their houses once they were released, then realized he not only didn't care, but he really didn't feel up to talking about anything any more right now.
"Can you turn the light away from me if you're going to study?" he asked, turning over and getting comfortable and dropping right back down to sleep.