HD 'Bond Ball'

Author: tigersilver

Pairing: D/H

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,750

Warnings/Summary: A small matter of Obscure Academia is cleared up, a Magical Item explained, and a Potter reassured by a Malfoy that he's still the Greatest Wizard Ever Lived. In bloody spades!

"Hey there, Potter." The sound of Draco Malfoy flopping elegantly into his desk chair had Harry starting. "Good morning, again."

"And to you," Harry smiled automatically, though he didn't glance up from the section of very mouldy old Potion's text he was perusing. "Although we've said that already. Not an hour ago."

"I'm well aware," Malfoy allowed mendaciously, a sly twist to his lips. "But it's worth repeating, as this morning has just gotten significantly better." He held up the orb so as to provide his partner a better view. "Just dug this up out of hiding, you see. Proves my theory, rather."

"Has it now? Oh, Draco? What is that?"

Attention snagged effectively by the object, Harry set aside his book and pointed an inquisitive finger to the small orb Malfoy was casually tossing from hand to hand; it was crafted of deeply etched crystal and filled with a hazy emerald smoke.

"That thing? Because I have one just like it banging about somewhere and I've always been curious." Harry frowned, mostly to ensure he'd expressed his full interest to his partner-in-all-matter-Magical-research. "Um. Quite. Though I can't say I've thought of it in years, now."

"Evidently not curious enough, Harry." Draco flashed a toothy smile across the partner's desk they shared and set the orb carefully down in the little space left uncluttered with a miscellany of parchment and dusty old texts, quills, inkwells of various hues and a litter of crumpled- up emptied chocolate frog wrappings. "If you've never really taken the time to look closely at yours. For shame!"

"Bugger off, Malfoy." Harry snorted as he sat back, rubbing an impatient hand through his hair and tousling it further. "It wasn't. It wasn't as if I never thought it wasn't important or anything, all right? It's just…just."

"Oh?" Draco asked, leadingly. "Yes, go on?"

"Hah!" Harry harrumphed loudly, startled into a glare. "And do tell, you bloody arse? When would I have had the opportunity, hmm? Mine's in the vaults, I think, and I've not seen it for years. Not that I got a chance to actually look at it much, back then, what with the dragon and all, and I've never really had a spare moment to go back and examine it after, either. Been a bit busy, don't you think? What with all this."

He gestured vaguely at the work they had piled haphazardly between them, the closely scribbled notes and formulae, the detritus of hours of intensive research.

"And that!" And then more widely, indicating the well-appointed study, the grand house surrounding it and, finally and in due course, the extensive grounds of Malfoy Manor spreading out for miles, like ripples in a lake. "And then you."

"And then me, of course," Draco chuckled, a gleeful twinkle in his eyes, and reached out a forefinger to nudge his orb closer to his desk mate. "Me, me, me. Too true, but go on, do, Harry. Have yourself a look-see now, at mine. Tell me what you think it may be, Master Wonder Wizard. Never let it be said I doubt your extensive knowledge of Magical Objects—or your endless curiosity!"

"Ta, don't mind it I do."

Harry quirked the corner of his mouth in thanks, bobbing his chin in acknowledgement of the favour. He scooped up the ball and brought it up very near the curving lenses of his spectacles, peering nearly cross-eyed and turning the mysterious Ball over and over with cautious fingers, caressing the fanciful etchings of dragons wrought across the orb's surface.

The green haze responded immediately to Harry's touch, condensing to form a line of sinuous cursive, all flowing into letters and then words. Two separate words popped out immediately, causing Harry to gasp. It was his own name written within: 'Harry Potter'.

Er? He thought. 'Harry Potter?'

"Excuse me, what?" Harry yelped faintly, once again startled. "Oi, Draco? What's all this, then? The.…the words."

Draco chuckled, barely wiping away a knowing grin when Harry glanced up to frown over at him, the orb sparkling as it caught the morning's light sifting in through the curtains.

"That, my dear Harry, is nothing more than my old Bond Ball. Mother gave me it years ago and I just came across it, buried away up in the attics."

"Bond Ball?"

"Oh, yes. Funny old thing, don't you think? Sentimental as all Hades but, then again, it was apparently a christening gift sent me from one of the Pruitt great-grandaunts. Quite a few of them were noted Seers, you know." He scowled. "You did know, right? I've mentioned? I swear I have."

"Yes, no, maybe? I don't care if you have. But…a…Bond Ball, you say," Harry breathed softly, holding the curio out at arm's length, and casting a glittering green gaze over the surface, all his professional curiosity piqued to the extreme. "This is? And what is it they do, Draco? What's it really for? As this one has my name on it—ah! In it, rather. Which is deucedly odd."

"Precisely what it says on the packet, silly old Potty," Draco laughed kindly, reaching a hand out to smooth down Harry's wayward hair. It instantly sprung up, resisting; Draco smiled at it as fondly. "It says who you'll Bond with."

He withdrew, with one last fond pat to his partner's cheek.

"Huh?"

"Which is, you'll note, exactly what it did do, in the end. Mine, at least. Dunno know about yours, Doubting Potty, but there's no earthly reason we can't pop on over to Gringott's one fine day and see for ourselves. In fact," he added pensively when Harry merely stared into the depths of the Ball, not responding. "I think I'd really enjoy that. One more point in my favour when we next endure a meal with your old mates, my lovely. I'd quite like to see the Ginger One's face when I shove that up his nose! Or Hermione's! Not that she'd mind. So fucking impartial; it's a bloody crime, really. Lib Dem."

Draco said this as if it were imprecation; his expression said it was really not.

"But—but!"

Harry scowled at the constantly reweaving letters of his own name, shrugging off both the passing dig at his best mate Ron and the idea of visiting Gringott's as inconsequential. And the politics; of all things Harry hated, it was the Politicks.

"That can't be, Draco. It simply can not! I married Ginny, didn't I? So how could you possibly be given a Bond Ball spell-thingy with my name in it, way back when you were just barely born? All those years ago, long before we ever even—we even considered! And how could I?" He glared furiously at his complacent partner, pursing his lips and scowling at the faint expression of anticipated triumph Malfoy wore. "That's not right, Draco! In fact, it's dead wrong! This is defective, utter rubbish—has to be!"

"No it isn't," Draco stated flatly, aligning his heels firmly together beneath the desk; Harry cocked an ear to the faint tap-and-scrape of the motion. "Listen? Seriously, now." He planted two elbows on the desk, leaning forward so as to give a ruffled Harry his full attention and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "Thing is, you never really truly Bonded with the she-Weasel a'tall, Harry, and thus—are you listening? Harry? Harry, tell me you are. Blink or something, please—please?"

"Fuck the ruddy blinking, don't call her that!" Harry burst out, drawing his eyebrows together and wrinkling the scant traces of his old scar. "I've told you and told you, Malfoy—mother of my children! Worthy of respect!"

"…Right." Draco blinked and freed a hand to ward off Harry's words, palm raised. "Um. Right, sorry. Sorry?" he said, twisting his wrist to splay out his fingers in appeal. "Very sorry, but. Old habits die hard, all right? But I meant nothing by it, so please just? I mean, may I? May I get to the point of all this?" He sniffed, flicking a sidelong glance at the orb. "That. The Bond Ball. You did demand an explanation. I am attempting to satisfy you. On my honour, Potter, I am."

"Yes, right, okay," Harry muttered disagreeably, slumping back, brow still beetling. "I did, actually. Go on, then." He waggled his eyebrows in warning. "Just don't say such things again. I still care for her and it's not fair of you, insinuating things. Nasty things, Draco. There's no need."

"No, I shan't," Draco replied promptly, trying his best to look contrite. "Or rather, I shall exert myself most particularly and attempt at every future opportunity not to, all right?"

Harry huffed but kept silent, biting his lip sullenly.

"Harry?" Draco prompted. "You do forgive me, don't you? Because I really didn't mean anything by it. I was just, um." He humped a shoulder, jerking his chin to the left to avoid. "Er, you know. That."

"Very well," Harry sighed, the unhappy frown fleeing at last. "Bloody! I know, I do know—you were just jealous. Same old story, though you've no reason to be. Which is, however," he sighed again, a tad more theatrically, as if the notion gave him satisfaction, "still very flattering, I suppose. In any event, you were saying?"

He jounced a fingertip on the mystery orb bearing his name.

"About this Bond Ball with my name in it—and then the admittedly strange little anomaly of me being married before you? Not to mention you as well, Draco. Married! I distinctly recall a lady named Astoria Greengrass Malfoy in your not-so-distant past."

"Firstly, Harry," Draco said, instantly serious. "No! It's not an anomaly at all; it's a case of an old and revered form of magic being horribly tampered with. You may've married Ginevra Weasley but you never fully Bonded with her."

"What?" Harry's jaw went slack. "You're not really serious, are you? I mean, I was there, Draco. At the wedding and everything! I think I'd have known if Gin and I never actually followed through with it! We've the kids, damn you!"

"Dead serious," Draco said sternly. "'Listen', I said; really listen to me, Harry. This is old and it's odd, but it's true, I swear to you. The way it works is a Witch or Wizard only has one true Bonding allotted in her or his lifetime, and your mésalliance with Ms Weasley wasn't it, despite the very lovely offspring you both got out of it. Congratulations on them, by the by. Especially that second one, as he has the most lovely effect on my child. For which I duly thank you."

"What, really?" Harry, his snit glossed over by academic interest, eagerly leant forward to stare intently at a quietly smug Draco Malfoy. "And thanks for that, the thing with Al, and Scorp. And they're darling, really they are; I've no objection but how's that work, then, the Bond Ball spell? As you were married as well, Draco, just as much as I was—and for the same amount of years, even! Did you not ever think to look to this—"

He joggled the Bond Ball about, causing his partner to wince.

"Before tying your precious knot? I mean, before hitching your posh arse to your bloody equally tatted-up Astoria-Moneybags-Greengrass, presumably for life? Because where did that leave me, you tit? Out in the bloody fucking cold, is where! Look what happened, would you ? Just? Just! Two marriages broken up and then—and then! All that mess, after."

"No, you silly smart arse," Draco shook his head, making a Face. "I didn't, more's the pity. Clearly nor did you. But—in my defense?—I'd completely forgotten I was even given it and Mother never did remind me before the wedding. Plus, I hardly think having Scorpius in the world is that great of a burden. Not too high a price to pay, is it? Sacrificing a few years of semi-pleasant misery for the chance for an heir? A child, of my very own. My treasure, after you? Don't see you complaining, Potter. Pot fucking kettle."

"Point!" Harry beamed, the Ball momentarily forgotten, all in favour of washing away the slit-eyed anger in his partner's telling stare. "Forgive me, do. That's the right of it, Draco; shan't—and can't!—argue with you there. Our kids are bloody brilliant, all of them. No matter how they came about."

"Yes, they are," Draco beamed back. "And no, you can't, Harry. Never successfully. I don't know why you even bother."

"Prat," Harry shot back happily, great amused. For he did, often, and just as often won out. "Git, even."

"Granted. Twat," Draco pointed a licked fingertip at Harry instantly, hissing the sizzle of 'point won!' and grinning archly. "Very. Stubborn. Twat. But my twat. My very own. Took long enough, though."

"Yes!"

"Well…good, then," Draco said. "Good."

"Yes, good. I've said so, haven't I?"

"So you have. Shut up now, Potty."

"No, you."

"…Really?"

"Oh, yes. Really. Just…let's? This…"

"Mm."

"Yes. This."

Unheeded in Harry's hand, the smoke within the crystalline container spun itself once more and silently into two fateful words, strung together and making up one oh-so-crucial moniker, and for a long hushed moment both men simply smiled at one another, rather resembling moonstruck loons.

"Um, Harry?" Draco shook his head, as if to cast off a compelling spell. "We. We were talking, I think. Weren't we? About my Ball, there."

"Yes, um. Well...in any road." Harry shrugged, though his goofy smile widened with a dawning and very sly appreciation as he stared at the undeniably blatantly happy cast of his partner's pale face. "Right, the Ball. The Bonding one. Though I do like how you've phrased it, just now."

"Hmm?"

"The 'a few years of semi-pleasant misery' one? That's right out clever of you, Draco, very! Fork-tongued prat. I beg you to remember it was, after all, your most agile and clever tongue that persuaded me over to your side, now I'm thinking back on it. Clever words aside, you do have a way with that mouth of yours. Bit wicked."

"That it was," Draco nodded happily, silvery eyes glinting dark at the shared memories. "Monstrously so. Followed immediately by a few other 'agile and clever' parts of mine," he added, glancing down the length of his neatly robed and quite fit torso, "placed in close company with a few similarly gifted parts of yours, Potty." The heat of his intent gaze slid over his partner's seated form, the gleam increasingly brightening and becoming a bit avaricious as it travelled. "Ah. Very…ample…parts they were, too. If I may be so bold as to say?"

"You may," Harry laughed, pleased as punch to be flattered. "Be as bold as you like, Draco, but do go on. About this." He shook the Ball, sending the brilliant letters back into smoky submission. "I still don't understand how a proper marriage isn't a proper Bond. What were we both even about, all those years spent with the girls, if this magical thing-bobber was right here all along, the very fact my name's in it claiming we were both meant to be together? I should think the spell wouldn't allow us to marry any other? There'd ought be some sort of…erm, some sort of magical retaliation? A consequence, perhaps?"

"Well." Draco nodded agreement, 'hmm'ing under his breath. "Yes, you'd think. But. They did happen, the girls, as you call them. And then?" He flapped both hands in a 'what-can-I-say' gesture. "Us happened, in due course. Et voilà!"

"Erm, isn't it more…more?" Harry arched a brow at how quickly the green smoke inside the orb pulled itself together to form his given name. "Despite us? Or…more because of us, rather, arriving late to the party? Mucking it up?" He paused. "Excepting the kids, of course. Didn't muck up that, not at all!"

"Of course not," Draco agreed. "But it's. It's more because of the War, Harry," he offered up further, his expression going dour. "I've a theory. It's this."

He extended a long arm and retrieved the Bond Ball in question, seeking out the persistent words within thoughtfully. Harry Potter it said, repeatedly. Harry Potter. Harry Potter!

"Mm, right. As I see it, the blasted Dark Lord—may he rot in fucking Hell for fucking forever, that thumping great cunt—was directly and indirectly responsible for any number of dire rifts in the spheres of our Magic. I'm of the opinion his evil influence managed to subvert the true purpose of the Bond Balls, rendering them warped or even nullifying them completely. And not just ours, either, Harry love, but those of our entire generation: Ginevra's, certainly, as an example. Seeing as she's happily Bonded with Longbottom now. And you can be certain they've got the Bond Balls to prove it, knowing your lovely Mum Weasley! She'll have them prominently placed on their mantle by now, in their new flat! Next supper there'll prove it."

"Yeah?" Fascinated, Harry cocked his chin at his partner, cogs almost visibly ticking over as he considered Draco's idea; he ignored ought else handily enough, being accustomed. "Perversion, is it? Old Voldy fucking things up even more than we thought he had? And so that's why I married Ginny and you married your bloody Astoria? Subversion of magic? Distortions in the bloody force field?"

"Hmm? Force field?" Draco questioned, puzzled. "What's that, Potty?"

"Not important; forget it," Harry said quickly, waving the Ball about. "More importantly, continuing on? I did this great magical-fixing thing, as you say, and then, later on—"

"Later on, after you'd so kindly corrected the situation, my stupidly courageous love," Draco interrupted, taking up the explanation of his theory smoothly, "by trying to idiotically die on me and then finally disposing of that rat-fucking-bastard forevermore, thus setting the stage up for a shake-down, a settling of the—"

"Oh! O-ho! Finally healing the Bond magic! Oh, but that's grand! Everything's made right again—it all works!"

Harry jumped up, too excited by the notion to remain seated. He rounded the desk and grabbed at Draco's face with both hands, popping a fast kiss to the tip of the nose he'd once called 'pointy'.

"Very," Draco said dryly, not mentioning the state of his nose, 'pointy' and dampened. "Much so."

"And then it all fell out over the years, didn't it? Sorting out all the proper Bonds! Every single one of them!"

"Yes, my sweet Saviour. Every. Single. One. Sorted!" Draco grinned up at his partner, delighted. "That's it in a nutshell, spot on, so well done, love. So, come? Come."

He set the orb aside carelessly and grasped at Harry's hips, gently tugging him closer.

"Hmm?"

"All that's left now is for you to come on down here with me and get on with celebrating yet another of your amazing accomplishments, shall we? Amongst…ehem, many." He waggled his blond brows at an instantly red-eared Harry. "Many many. That is to say, I mean, I'd really like to re-examine that staff of yours, Master Wizard. In particular. That's one. Of the many."

"Ah?" Harry frowned, momentarily at sea. "Um, which staff is that, Draco? I've a wand, naturally, but I've haven't got a staff…" He blinked rapidly. "Er, have I? Did you buy me one and I didn't know it?"

"Oh, but you do, you really, really do." Draco winked, placing a palm very suggestively over top the juncture of Harry's trouser legs and caressing the slight swell there. "No, of course I didn't buy it; no need to, when you have it right here. A magnificent staff, Potty. And it's got a very handsome knob on. Delicious, even. So give it here, love. Because I want it, and it's mine, now. Been mine, all this time."

"Oh! That one! Merlin! You—you fork-tongued bugger!" Harry blushed fiercely, even as he was falling unceremoniously onto his Bonded partner's lap. "Oh, go on with you—you! Ack! Mmph!"

It was some little while later, well advanced in the morning and well after the shared work surface had been summarily cleared of all its studious burden and placed instead to a purpose that literally defined 'partner's desk', that Harry roused himself sufficient to murmur in his lover's ear, twisting about in the luxurious armchair Draco favoured. He twisted his fingers into Draco's tumbled hair as he did so, fretting.

"Draco? Draco!"

"Mmh? Harry? What's it?" Draco asked sleepily, rousing, lifting his pointy chin. He cracked his eyes open, mostly alert. "What? What's wrong now, love? Tell me."

"Mmm, Draco? D'you think we ought to really pop over to Gringott's vaults—our vaults? What if mine doesn't say—I mean, what if? If it's not your name in it? What if—what if it's Gin's, still?"

"'Course it does, Doubting Potty," Draco replied swiftly, pausing only for an instant to kiss the niggling worry straight off Harry's face. "'Course it says! If you'd only just examined the outside of my Ball as much as you did the inside, idiot, you'd have seen it was inscribed 'Property of Draco Malfoy' all over it. Proof positive, m'love."

"Really? You're certain?" Harry sat up abruptly, gawping. "Where was that bit, 'cause I missed it! I cannot believe I actually missed it—Draco?"

"In Parseltongue, prat."

"Er?" Draco nuzzled at Harry's cheek, gently forcing his head back down to the preferred resting place located just under his pointy chin. "What?"

"Yes, Parseltongue! Salazar Slytherin transcribed it once, long ago; the language of snakes, dragons and other reptiles, too, all into runes he'd invented. All into runes I've learnt, Harry. It's all in the text on the floor over there and languages are my forte, are they not? And though I can't speak it, not as you can, love, I can certainly read it. You are mine, Harry-Perfect-Potter-Malfoy, and we've both the Balls to prove it, trust me on that!"

"Oh," Harry said, subsiding. "That's okay then."

"Yes. It is. Now hush. I was sleeping."

"Prat. In this chair."

"Berk. Yes, I was. You're my pillow. Pillows don't speak; they're not supposed to, so shut it."

"You."

"Mine."

"…Yes. Always."

"All right, then. Do shut up. Harry…darling."

Fin