Title: It Happened In Vegas
Disclaimer: I can claim rights to neither Harry Potter and friends, or to Vegas. Sadly. Either would make me a very wealthy woman.
Rating: I think T/PG-13; but maybe M/R. Not 100% sure. I tried to keep it fairly clean.
Pairing: Harry/Draco, past Hermione/Ron
Warnings: Boy kisses, implied sex and frottage. Perhaps a wee bit of language.
Summary: After a day spent in Wizarding Faux-Vegas, Draco Malfoy wakes up in a garish pink room with no memory of the night before and an unexpected bedfellow.
A/N: I had a lot of fun with this. I wrote it for a picture, ( w w w DOT face book DOT com SLASH photo DOT php?fbid=548130268574074&set=a.391702784216824.95843.391199857600450&type=1&theater ) and I wrote it as an entry into the All Sorts of Love - Slash competition on the HPFC forum.
Draco groaned as he swam into awareness. His head was killing him. He couldn't open his eyes and his whole body ached. His tongue was dry and he felt nauseated.
He'd had far, far too much to drink last night. He'd blacked out and didn't remember most of it.
He fumbled for his wand, eyes still closed.
"Accio hangover potion!" he said hoarsely. The hangover potion flew into his hand. He downed it quickly, then sat up, blearily opening his eyes as the potion took effect.
He blinked and looked around, bewildered at his surroundings for a few moments. He was not in the Manor, and definitely not at Hogwarts.
He remembered now, the traveling, magical Faux-Vegas that had arrived in Scotland and which the excited eighth years had chosen to visit this weekend. He wrinkled his nose as he took in his surroundings.
The room was pink. Pink bedding, pink dressers, pink curtains and drapes, and the headboard was shaped like a giant red heart. There was so much pink Draco thought he might become physically ill.
The room was also completely trashed. Champagne glasses lay overturned on one dresser, with champagne spilled on it. Beside him lay glasses and a piece of parchment. The rest of the room looked like a wild party had been thrown in it.
That wasn't the most disturbing thing, however. There was someone in bed with him. Someone burrowed under the covers with his back to Draco. A tousled mop of black hair peeked out from the blanket. Draco was completely naked, and he figured the stranger probably was, too, under the blankets. He swallowed hard. Had he lost his virginity last night?
This really wasn't the way he'd wanted it to happen. Not that Draco had any romantic notions, but he would have liked to remember it at least. And part of him had hoped that it would happen with someone he cared about; not necessarily loved, but had some measure of feelings for.
He felt cheated.
He breathed out heavily as he sat there with the blanket pooled around his middle, wondering what he should do. Whether he should sneak out. What would happen when the stranger woke up. Whether they'd talk, and if they would ever see each other after this. If they would have sex again, so that this time he would remember. He wondered if the stranger had known he was a virgin.
The stranger moaned and stirred. He began to emerge from his cocoon. Draco stared at him in horror as he recognized the other boy.
"Potter?!"
"Erm... Hi?" Potter blinked at him.
Harry stared at the flashing lights and the glittering, shining scenery. He tried not to gawp like a tourist, but then again; that's what he was. He'd never been to the real Vegas, so he couldn't really make a fair comparison, but this Traveling Wizarding Faux-Vegas certainly seemed to look like the real deal. It was hard not to believe that they had all been transported to the States and a little place known as Las Vegas, Nevada.
"Harry; look!" hissed Ron, gesturing to a group of scantily clad showgirls. His eyes were big and round; all but glazed over. Harry snickered and rolled his eyes.
"Yes, my oh-so-heterosexual friend, there are half-naked girls here. Lots of them. Apparently in some places there are fully-nude women as well. I'm sure you'll be dying of ecstasy before the night is done." He rolled his eyes again, and Ron elbowed him good naturedly.
"You know, that's the only time I mind you being gay. It sucks that we can't check out the incredible girls together." Harry let out a long-suffering sigh and spoke wearily.
"Don't I always come along and humour you when you want to go bird-watching?" He smirked slightly.
Ron nodded, but let out a sigh of his own. "Yeah, mate; but it's not the same. You don't even appreciate the birds like I do, or any straight guy could. It's just a bit of a bummer that my best mate and I can't enjoy scoping 'em out together, is all."
Harry gritted his teeth slightly and forced the disparaging comments away. He knew Ron didn't mean anything by it. Ron had had a hard time accepting Harry's sexuality at first; he kept trying to "cure" him. It took an intervention from Hermione to straighten him out.
Hermione.
Harry wondered where his best friend was. She had been such a comfort to him; such a support through his sexuality crisis and subsequent coming out. She was the only one who knew who his secret crush was.
Of course, he hadn't come out to the wizarding world at large; just to his friends. He figured he'd save the coming out to the world for the day when he had someone by his side to weather the storm together.
He sighed. He tried to stifle his annoyance at Ron for his flippant attitude about girls; Hermione was having a hard time, dealing with the "break" they had agreed to take from their relationship. Harry wondered if Ron realized that he was widening the gulf between himself and Hermione or if he was just that dense. He hated feeling caught in the middle; Ron was his best mate, but Hermione was his best friend.
Nevertheless, he stuck by his oldest friend. He wouldn't take sides, though he would help talk things out with them when they needed to, and he did his very best to remain perfectly neutral.
He was lost in thought as he walked around, and wasn't looking where he was going. He walked straight into someone, and they both nearly fell; saved only by grabbing on to one another's arms for support. He immediately opened his mouth to apologize, and found himself staring straight into the irritated grey eyes of one Draco Malfoy.
"Geeze, Potter, is it too much to ask that you watch where you're going? Or does being the savior of the wizarding world automatically give you license to knock anyone over as you please?" His tone was as biting as it had always been, but Harry winced nonetheless. It was moments like this when he thought that he was crazy; that having a crush on the Slytherin git was the mark of an insane man.
They should just cart me up to the Janus Thickey ward, he thought bitterly.
Aloud he said, "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I was thinking and wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
Malfoy sniffed. "I suppose I can understand. After all, thinking must be a very taxing exercise for your feeble brain powers; it's no wonder you couldn't manage both activities at once."
Harry gritted his teeth. Even as he felt fury at Malfoy's insults, he couldn't help noticing the way his hair shone in the sunlight, little beams of light dancing through the strands and making them glow, almost like a halo. With his pale porcelain skin, his sharp, defined features, his height, perfect build, and his white robes, he looked like an angel.
An avenging angel, Harry thought. The irritation and anger in Malfoy's features and eyes made him look like a warrior angel. Harry sighed and closed his eyes.
"Come off it, Malfoy. There's no reason for us to keep fighting. Let's just call a truce."
Malfoy stared at him suspiciously. "What are you up to, Potter? Why would you suddenly want to call a truce?"
Harry sighed again. "Because I'm tired of fighting. There's no reason for it. And if we can stop sniping at each other long enough to get along, maybe we can be – well not friends, but not enemies, either.
Malfoy stared. Harry held out a hand, well aware of how reminiscent the gesture was of first year, on the train. Malfoy gave him a long look, then slowly reached out and took his hand.
"Alright, Potter," he said in a low voice. "We'll give this a try."
Harry smiled. "Join us for a drink?"
Ron was gaping and sputtering rather incoherently, but Malfoy nodded, and Harry could have sworn there was a hint of a smile on his face. It warmed Harry's heart and made his pulse race.
They turned and headed for the nearest casino in search of a bar.
Potter blinked at Draco, and he noticed that without those ugly glasses in the way, Potter's deep green eyes were striking. What's more, with his hair sleep-tousled, his childish expression of confusion as he sat up and blinked several times, he looked almost... cute.
Draco shuddered. He was not going to start thinking of Potter as cute. And despite the fact that the back and chest exposed to his view were tanned, lightly muscled, and positively delicious – clearly Potter's Quidditch playing paid off – Draco was not finding him attractive. At all.
And he was definitely not thinking about the fact that he very well may have lost his virginity to Potter, of all people.
He cleared his throat. "What are you doing in my bed, Potter?"
Potter stared at him. "Malfoy?" he asked incredulously.
Draco smirked despite the situation. "The one and only," he drawled. "Now answer the question." His eyes narrowed.
Potter shook his head. "I don't... I don't remember much of last night." He shifted uncomfortably. "I just remember fragments, but they seem like a dream. I don't know what's real and what was just a weird dream I had."
Draco curled his lip in a sneer. "Well obviously something happened, Potter, or we wouldn't be in bed together, sans clothes."
Potter gaped, and looked down quickly. His face flushed.
"A little slow on the uptake, aren't we, Potter?"
"Shut it, Malfoy," he scowled. "My head feels like there's a herd of hippogriffs stampeding in it." He winced as he spoke, and Draco felt a flash of sympathy for him.
"Accio hangover potion!" he called with a flick of his wand, and the potion came flying into his hand. He held it out. "Here. It'll help."
Potter took it with a suspicious look.
He downed it, and a look of abject relief spread over his features. He closed his eyes, titled his head back and groaned. Draco's mouth went dry.
Potter tilting his head back, crying out in ecstasy; his strong arms gripping Draco so hard he knew it would bruise, but he didn't care. It didn't matter. None of it mattered, but the feel of Potter's skin on his, the look on Potter's face, the sounds he made as Draco moved against him.
Draco blinked, shaking his head, disoriented. The images, emotions, and sounds had flown through his mind, nearly making him dizzy with the strength of them. A flashback from last night?
He swallowed thickly. He felt uncomfortably aroused all of a sudden, and the sight of Potter sitting next to him topless made it difficult to shove the memory that had assaulted him away. He turned his head and stared very deliberately at the floor.
"So, what happens now?" Potter asked in a quiet voice. "I think it's obvious what happened last night, and Merlin knows I remember enough bits and pieces to be sure. What do we do now?"
"What do you think we do, Potter?" Draco couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. Whether he was bitter because he'd lost his virginity to Potter, or because he couldn't remember it, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure he wanted to examine his feelings too closely right now.
"I don't know," said Potter, and his voice sounded so small, Draco turned to look at him, against his better judgment. Potter looked small amidst the sheets, with his arms wrapped around himself and a sad look on his face. "I've never… I've never done this before."
Draco started. "Never? Not with anyone?"
Potter nodded miserably. "That was… that was my first time," he admitted, shamefaced. Draco hesitated. He felt disbelief flood him. Potter was the hero of the wizarding world. The darling of the masses. He could have anyone he wanted. Why in Merlin's name would he choose Draco?
Draco would never have dreamed the Golden Boy was a virgin.
Of course, Draco had also thought Potter was straight.
He felt conflicted and confused. On the one hand, admitted weaknesses of any kind was not the Slytherin thing to do, and not the Malfoy way. But on the other, Potter looked so fragile and miserable sitting there, mourning the loss of his virginity, that Draco pitied him. Wanted to make him feel better, if only marginally. And it wasn't really weakness, Draco decided, that he was a virgin at eighteen. He hadn't had much chance for sex, what with figuring out his sexuality in the first place, then being consumed by his task for the Dark Lord, and after that having to deal with the Dark Lord living in his house.
Plus, Potter had been a virgin, too.
"Me too," he said abruptly, suddenly very interested in the bright pink sheets that still pooled around his waist.
Potter looked up, confused. "You too what?' he asked.
Draco blew out a breath. "It was my first time, too," he muttered. "If that's any consolation."
Potter stared. He blinked slowly, then looked away.
"It is, thanks." His voice was quiet, but didn't sound quite as forlorn as before. Draco was glad. For some reason he couldn't stand the thought of Potter forlorn.
Potter looked up at him and gave a tentative smile.
Potter was smiling shyly at him, his bright green eyes shining, and he spoke haltingly, yet determinedly. "I like you, Malfoy. I have for a while. Since sixth year, I think. And I don't mean like in a friends kind of way; I like you, like you." Potter looked away quickly, his cheeks tinged pink.
Draco was speechless, unsure of how to respond. He felt a warmth tingling inside him, and reached out to take Potter's hand. He curled his fingers around Potter's and Potter turned back to him and gave him a brilliant smile.
Draco reeled, trying to process this latest flashback. Potter looked at him in concern, and reached out, touching his arm. His touch felt like fire, burning Draco, consuming him.
They were attacking each other's mouths, desperate and greedy, and oh Merlin, nothing had ever felt like this; nothing had ever come close. While their tongues did battle they fumbled with one another's clothing, desperate for more skin on skin; for more of that fiery, burning feeling spreading through them and igniting their very souls.
Draco clutched his head. He felt slightly ill from the onslaught of memory, but most of all he felt shocked, and terribly aroused. Potter was still looking at him in concern, shaking his arm slightly.
"Malfoy? Malfoy? Damnit, Draco! What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Potter," he mumbled, trying to regain his equilibrium. "I'm just remembering bits and pieces of last night."
"Oh," said Potter, and he blushed. He started to pull his arm away, but Draco grabbed it, and met his eyes.
"Have you really fancied me since sixth year?" he breathed.
Potter blushed even darker. He averted his eyes. "Yeah," he said after a pause. "Yeah, I have."
He looked back up, jutting his chin defiantly. "I've fancied you for a long time, Malfoy."
Draco hesitated a moment longer. "Draco," he said. "Call me Draco." Then he leaned forward and kissed the stunned Gryffindor.
Harry raised the glass to his lips and tossed the shot back. He grinned at Malfoy, who matched him, shot for shot. Ron shook Harry's shoulder suddenly.
"Harry, they have dancing girls!" His voice was filled with excitement. "Let's go watch the show!"
"Err," said Harry, and glanced at Draco. He didn't like the idea of the other boy going anywhere near dancing girls, though it really didn't matter one way or the other, he reminded himself. Malfoy was hopelessly straight.
"Sorry," Malfoy shrugged. "Doesn't really appeal to me." He got up to leave, but Harry caught his arm.
"Han' on, where you goin'?" he slurred just a little, but since all of them were equally plastered, no one took notice.
"Out, Potter. I don't want to watch dancing girls, and I have no desire to sit at the bar and await your return."
"I'll stay with you." The words were out without Harry even thinking about it. His brain was too soaked in alcohol to process much other than that this was Malfoy; he liked Malfoy, and he for once he and Malfoy were actually getting along. They were almost… almost having fun together. He didn't want it to end.
"Mate!" cried Ron indignantly. "You're not gonna throw me over for the ferret, are you?" He sounded incredulous.
Malfoy snorted. "Don't worry about it, Potter. No need to be noble. Go enjoy your dancing girls; I won't stop you."
"Won't enjoy it," said Harry morosely. "'M gay."
Malfoy's eyes widened and he choked. "What?"
"'M gay. Don't like dancing girls."
"But Harry," protested Ron again. "You always come with me to keep me company-"
"But this time I don't want to, Ron." Harry's voice was surprisingly firm considering how much firewhiskey he'd imbibed already.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow and smirked. "My company's an improvement over the Weasel's, is it, Potter?"
"Over dancing girls," Harry corrected.
Ron was floored. "Fine." He glared at Harry. "Do whatever the hell you want."
He stalked off, heading in the direction of the showroom. Harry hesitated, feeling guilty, then reminded himself he had nothing to feel guilty about. It was time Ron stopped trying to heterosexualize him. He nodded. Ron would come round, eventually.
In the meantime he wanted to spend more time with Malfoy.
Even if the pillock was unrelentingly straight and therefore entirely unattainable.
He had watched Malfoy for so long, accustomed himself to the Slytherin's habits. He'd noticed all the small details about the other boy. He was well aware of what a complete and utter paradox Draco Malfoy was. He'd seen the way Malfoy was a brat and a bully to the students from other houses; but he'd always, always been careful to take care of his own. The younger Slytherins regarded him with something akin to worship, and the older ones weren't much different.
He'd seen how Malfoy could be loyal, sweet, and kind. How he could be noble, in his own, Slytherin way. And he'd fallen for that Malfoy. The one that no one outside of Slytherin suspected existed.
Even if Malfoy was straight and Harry had no chance with him, he still wanted to spend time with him, and enjoy the other boy's company for once.
Malfoy was looking at Harry with an odd expression on his face, but when Harry motioned he followed the Gryffindor back to the bar.
They ordered more shots and then Malfoy turned back to him with that same odd, strangely thoughtful expression on his face.
"So, the hero of the wizarding world is gay."
Harry groaned inwardly. He hadn't meant to come out to Malfoy; it just sort of slipped out without him thinking about it. He sighed.
"Yeah, Malfoy; I am. You gonna take the piss?"
"Now why would I do that, Potter? Seeing as I'm gay, too."
Harry's eyes widened and he felt his jaw drop. "But… there are all these rumours…"
"And since when do you listen to rumours, Potter?" Malfoy's smirk was becoming a permanent fixture on his face. If only it wasn't so bloody attractive.
Except.
Except that Malfoy was gay. Which meant that Harry had a chance. Not much of one, perhaps, but still more than he would have had if Malfoy had been straight.
"So," he said, as casually as he could manage. "Are you seeing anyone right now?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth he winced. It sounded like he was trying to pick Malfoy up. Which he really sort of was. But he hadn't intended to be that overt about it.
He wondered vaguely if his Slytherin side had gone the way of his sobriety.
Meanwhile, Malfoy was choking on his firewhiskey. "Potter, are you hitting on me?" His voice was incredulous. Harry's cheeks flamed.
Oh, he could deny it.
Or he could be honest, and see where that got him. In for a knut; in for a galleon.
Harry smiled. It was a shy smile; he couldn't help that. After all, it's not every day you admit to your long-time crush that you like him. He sat as straight as he could and spoke with as much determination as he could muster.
"I like you, Malfoy. I have for a while. Since sixth year, I think. And I don't mean like in a friends kind of way; I like you, like you." Harry looked away quickly, feeling himself blush.
Malfoy looked speechless. Then he did something entirely unexpected. He reached out and grasped Harry's hand, twining their fingers together loosely. Harry turned back to face him and beamed.
Malfoy had a soft, uncertain smile on his face. "Since sixth year? Really?" His voice was soft.
"Really," breathed Harry. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments, and before he knew what he was doing, Harry was leaning forwards, moving towards Malfoy. Alarm bells started ringing in his head, a little voice reminding him that he had precious little experience with snogging, and he was going to cock it all up and make a fool out of himself, and Malfoy would laugh and then –
Harry told the voice to shut up.
And then he was kissing Malfoy, and after a second, Malfoy was kissing him back. God, this was, this was; it felt like… like coming home. It wasn't a matter of extreme fireworks and explosions; just soft gentle movements of his mouth on Malfoy's, and Malfoy's tongue probing for entrance against his lips, and it felt so comfortable and familiar and right that for some reason it almost made Harry want to cry.
It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. The few brief kisses he'd shared with Cho, the couple of snogging sessions he'd had with Ginny before realising he was gay and fancied Malfoy; they had been nothing like this. They paled in comparison.
He never wanted it to end.
As they snogged, things became more and more heated.
Now there were fireworks; small explosions in his brain as sensation washed over him and commandeered his senses. He slid from his chair, somehow not breaking the kiss, and pressed himself up to Malfoy, whose breath hitched.
Before he knew what he was doing he was straddling Malfoy, snogging the breath out of him, and as Malfoy moaned into his mouth he heard himself whimper. They were lost, drowning in a sea of sensation, passion, and pleasure.
Malfoy broke this kiss, gasping for air. "Potter," he said breathlessly, and Harry latched onto his neck, nipping and sucking and licking his way across Malfoy's pulse point down to his collarbone. Malfoy was gasping and making small noises of pleasure, but he kept trying to talk.
"Potter, we can't– this isn't the place – oh, Merlin!" he groaned, "–We have to stop."
Harry lifted his head and stared into Malfoy's eyes. "Do you really want to?" he asked huskily. Malfoy swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed.
"We have to," he repeated, a little shakily. Harry sighed and slid off his lap. He winced, and adjusted himself, smirking slightly when he noticed Malfoy doing the same.
They went back to drinking and talking, but something indefinable had changed between them. They exchanged light, soft kisses now and then during breaks in the conversation, and Harry was amazed to discover that Malfoy was an amazing conversationalist. He was funny; witty and sarcastic, with a dry sense of humour.
He was everything Harry wanted.
At some point over the course of the evening, Malfoy turned into Draco, and Potter gave way to Harry. Neither boy thought it strange. It just felt natural, like they'd been calling one another by first names all along.
Harry and Draco snogged heavily, marveling at the feel of one another's mouths, the taste of the other's tongue. Reveling in the sheer pleasure of the experience. As their kisses grew more passionate, they gradually began moving closer together on the bed.
Draco gasped at the sensation of Harry's skin on his, and remembered that neither of them was wearing anything. After last night, it wasn't like it mattered. Except neither of them could clearly remember last night; whereas now they were sober and fully cognizant.
Harry lay back softly, letting Draco cover him with his body. He groaned at the contact, his eyelids fluttering shut.
"Harry," murmured Draco. "Harry, open your eyes. I want to see you."
Harry opened his eyes, staring into Draco's stormy grey ones with eyes of the deepest shade of viridian Draco had ever seen. His breath caught in his throat and his head spun. It was too much, too much.
How long had he buried his feelings for Harry Potter behind a wall of animosity and hatred? How long had he wished he could be to the Gryffindor what the Gryffindor was to him, resolving to do whatever it took to keep himself constant in Harry's thoughts. If not as a lover, than as a hated enemy. As long as Harry was not indifferent to him, it didn't matter.
As they moved together, kissing and making sounds of pleasure, Draco felt almost overcome by awe; this was really happening. He never wanted it to end. Yet it did, all too soon.
The look on Harry's face as he came undone was Draco's own undoing; it was a sight beyond his wildest imaginings. Spent and weary, he and Harry laid together, limbs tangled and faces so close that their noses were touching.
They talked for a bit, about trivial things, and Draco discovered what a joy it was to make Harry laugh. He had another flashback to when he'd made that same discovery the night before. He adored Harry's laugh; it was sometimes cute and shy, and sometimes boisterous and overwhelming in its intensity. Like everything else about Harry, really.
After a while he realised he needed the loo and was forced to get up.
On his way back to the bed, he paused by the dresser where the half-rolled parchment lay. He noticed both his and Harry's names were at the bottom, signed in their handwriting. Worried about what they might have agreed to while under the influence, he picked the parchment up.
"What's that?" Harry's voice was curious.
""Don't know yet," he answered as he unrolled the paper. When he had opened it fully he gasped. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
"What's wrong?" Harry spoke sharply. "Draco, what is it?"
Draco stared wordlessly, then turned the parchment over so Harry could see it. Harry gaped.
There, across the top of the parchment in large letters, was emblazoned:
Certificate
of
Bonding
And
Marriage
Both of their names were signed at the bottom, and each boy recognized his own handwriting.
"Merlin," Harry breathed. "What did we do?"
Harry and Draco walked hand in hand through the Faux-Vegas nightlife. They swayed unsteadily on their feet. They alternated between fits of giggles, whispered conversations, and stopping to gaze into each other's eyes and snog.
They'd spoken openly and freely with one another. They'd each shared every secret they had. There was nothing between them anymore and they reveled in the closeness they felt.
They passed by a jewelry shop, and on an impulse, the boys went inside. Once inside, they stared at all the pretty stones shining in the lamp light.
Harry spotted a ring that took his breath away. It was a silver band, designed to look like a serpant coiling. The snake's eyes were two glittering emeralds, and it was charmed to bite if picked up by anyone other than the owner. It was perfect for Draco.
"'M buying this f'r you."
Draco gasped. "H'rry, tha's a bonding ring!"
Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion. "A wha-?"
"A bonding. Ring," repeated Draco slowly. "I's part of a set."
Harry looked closer, and sure enough, there were two rings nestled side by side.
"Wha's a bonding ring?"
"F'r when people get bonded, ya silly git," said Draco affectionately.
"Wha's that?"
"Like marr'ge. 'Nly deeper."
Harry stared deep into Draco's eyes for several long moments. "Bond with me, Draco," he said at last. He seemed almost sober in his earnestness.
Draco stared back; looking like his world was spinning around that one impossible question. "'Kay," he said softly, a happy smile curving across his face. "I'll bond with you, Harry."
After purchasing the rings it was a relatively simple matter to find a bonding official. It was Faux-Vegas, after all.
The official was reluctant to bond them, rather than simply marrying them, due to their inebriated state, but Harry pulled the Boy-Who-Lived card and Draco brought out the Malfoy name, and in rather short order, they were married and bonded.
Laughing and kissing, Draco swept the smaller boy off his feet and suggested they find a place to spend their wedding night.
Draco shook his head. He still didn't trust himself to speak. He sat on the bed, turning the parchment over again and staring at the words.
It felt unreal.
How could they have been so stupid?
Not to mention, whose brilliant idea had this been?
Draco wanted to be sure it wasn't his, but he thought of how ecstatic he was to realise Harry cared for him, and coupled with the amount he'd had to drink last night… he couldn't be completely sure. Still, it was unlikely. He knew too well what the repercussions of such actions were.
Didn't stop you from doing it anyway, a little voice inside his head nagged at him.
He swallowed. He couldn't even be angry at Harry, if Harry was the one who had suggested it. Harry hadn't been raised in the wizarding world. He didn't understand Bond spells, or the permanent effects of said spells, even after they had been dissolved.
"Draco?" Harry spoke tentatively. "Is it really so bad?"
"Yes, Harry; it is."
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it's not like we can't get divorced…"
Draco shook his head. "You don't understand, Harry. Bonding isn't – it isn't something we wizards enter into lightly. Marriage, maybe; but when a bond is added to the marriage vows, it binds a couple together permanently. Even if we try to end our marriage and go our separate ways, our magic is linked; for the rest of our lives, it'll carry the imprint of the other's. We'll never be able to bond completely with anyone else.
"You only get one chance to join your magic together with someone else's; only one opportunity for two magical cores to become one. No matter how talented the caster of the severing spell, our magic has been altered permanently."
He didn't understand how anyone could have let him and Harry take such vows while clearly not sober. He was going to find whoever it was, and he was going to use an unforgivable or two on their arses.
"So we're breaking the bond?"
"As soon as we can find a decent bond-breaker, yes."
Harry was silent for a little while.
"Would it be so bad?" he asked softly. "Being bonded to me?"
Draco's head whipped around and he stared.
"Harry, we're eighteen!"
"We're adults." Harry jutted his chin out a little as he spoke. "And I know what I want. I've wanted it for years; I won't be changing my mind anytime soon. We're already bonded. What do you want, Draco?"
Draco sat there in a daze, his thoughts whirling around him. Harry wanted him. Wanted to try to work with the bond, not get rid of it. He swallowed thickly and gave Harry a tentative smile.
"Alright," he said softly. "We'll see if we can't make this bond work, then."
Harry smiled, and his eyes shone. He reached for Draco, taking the parchment out of his hands and laying it back down on the dresser before pulling his lover back into bed.
They didn't know what the future held, but they would do their best to make it good.
~ fin ~