A/N (PLEASE READ!): Hi, everyone! This is going to be another typical Drarry fic, but I was really inspired by my absolute favorite story on this site, Bond by Anna Fugazzi (READ IT! It's old but one of the best stories on here.) So, this is going to be another one of those Harry-Draco bonding type of things, and I hope you enjoy! I would love for some reviews, because feedback is great and helps give me ideas for new chapters (no writer's block!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, these all belong to J.K. Rowling.

Advisory: This story will contain language, some violence, crude humor, slash, and sexual content. If you don't like these kinds of stories, don't force yourself to read them!

Summary: When Draco comes down with a life-threatening illness, it takes all the bravery a certain Gryffindor can muster to save him. But Draco's life comes at the price of…marriage? (Takes place during seventh year, slightly DH compliant.)

Welcome to the first chapter of my story! I promise my writing style gets better as I go on, so please give it a chance :)

I have a Harry Potter (and Drarry) themed Tumblr now! It's ohdracodarling . tumblr . com (remove the spaces!)

Together (For Better or Worse)

Chapter One: The Discovery

To any professor or perhaps an on-looking student, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was having a typical Thursday morning. All of the students were gathered in the Great Hall; their houses Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. It was a typical breakfast for a typical morning, and Harry Potter wouldn't have it any other way.

"Bloody hell, Harry! Will you stop narrating your life in your head for a moment—yeah, I know you're doing it!—and wake up? I'm having a bit of a life crisis here!"

Harry was torn out of his morning thoughts and his eyes slowly focused on Ron, who had a distressed and most unattractive look on his face. The fact that he had pumpkin juice running down his chin and muffin crumbs on his cheeks didn't help the seriousness he was trying to portray.

Harry sighed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing at all," Hermione interjected. "Ronald is just having a bit of a pity party for himself because he doesn't want to go to Potions today."

"I just can't believe Snape is teaching Potions again! I'm rubbish at Potions and with Snape around, I might as well stick my head into a boiling cauldron of whale blubber…" The Weasley boy looked positively frazzled and Harry had to stifle a sleepy laugh. Not much had changed since last year. Ron was still an insufferable git (you had to love him), Hermione was still a know-it-all, and the professors were still their stern selves.

Harry absentmindedly bit his lip and glanced over to the Slytherin tables. Stuck up lot, all of them, he thought to himself. But, even he had to admit they stuck together and stood up for their beliefs as much as the Gryffindors did—they just had a slightly snarkier way of portraying their loyalty.

'You would have done well in Slytherin'? Ha. The Sorting Hat doesn't know what it was saying, he mused.

A shrill scream was heard from Pansy Parkinson, startling everyone in the room. "Somebody help!" she shrieked.

The students all stood to their feet (some of them on the tables) in an attempt to see what all of the commotion was about. Various exclamations reached their ears, though it was impossible to figure out who was saying what.

"Malfoy's passed out!"

"Sodding git, hope he gets taken out of school."

"Oh, look at me, my name's Malfoy! I'm going to faint like a little first year! Oh, poor me!"

"Oh, Merlin, there's blood! I can't look!"

"SILENCE!"

The Great Hall settled down sheepishly. Dumbledore stood with a slightly dazed look. "Everyone will proceed to their dormitories at once. Miss Parkinson, Mister Goyle, Mister Crabbe? Please accompany Mister Malfoy to Madame Pomfrey."

Harry and his friends began shuffling their way back to their common rooms. Harry felt slightly sick to his stomach. Flashbacks of Malfoy bleeding from Sectumsempra flooded his mind. Malfoy crying for help. Malfoy lying helpless as his insides were torn.

This isn't like that, Harry thought to himself. He's passed out, is all. You've fainted before. This isn't even a big deal, why the hell are you worrying? Besides, he probably deserves it. A little time in the hospital ward never hurt anybody.

Hermione attempted to speak over the voices of the rest of the students. "Harry, stop stressing! You've got that look on your face! Have you even finished the two foot essay for Professor Snape? You have more important things for your mind to be on!"

Ron groaned. "I knew I forgot to do something!"

"Turn to page seven hundred and twenty-seven," drawled the bat-like Potions professor. Even after six years, the man was as intimidating as ever. Harry noticed Snape glance at Malfoy's empty seat before quickly turning to the correct page. It wouldn't do well to piss him off-Gryffindor House was already in last place for the House Cup. Any more points taken would be disastrous.

"As you can see," the professor sneered, "today we are going to be brewing Veritaserum. That is, if you blundering fools can do it properly. The ingredients and instructions will be found within the chapter.

"Now, as I'm sure many of you know…" Snape cast an accusing eye on Harry. "Veritaserum takes a month to be made to perfection. However…this particular brew takes an hour. It has a much lower potency to it and is far easier to resist than the original. It is more difficult to make and more complex than many of you can handle."

Harry had to resist rolling his eyes. They had brewed Polyjuice potion in second year (well, Hermione had, anyway), it wasn't going to be that difficult. The Golden Trio had become somewhat used to Snape and Harry in particular was able to see that the professor was only attempting to scare his students. He also tends to underestimate many of them, Harry thought smugly.

Snape slammed his hand on the desk, frightening Ron. "Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind," he growled. "You. Have. One. Hour. I suggest you get moving."

The end of the hour was nearing and Neville had already managed to blow up his cauldron by adding the whole bottle of Flobberworm mucus instead of two drops, thereby receiving detention and ten points from Gryffindor. Hermione probably had a perfect potion like always. Ron…?

"Mate, I think you messed up a bit."

"You don't say?" Ron groaned. "Oh, no."

"Time is up," snapped Snape. He walked around the room swiftly—examining every student's cauldron before he came up to Harry. The Potter boy suddenly felt a slight urge to vomit with the near presence of the greasy dungeon bat. He smelled odd, too.

The professor paused. "Well, well. Mr. Potter, I see you've managed to make an acceptable brew for once. I don't suppose you got any help from Miss Granger at all?"

Harry ground his teeth. Respect the professors, respect the professors. "No, sir."

"Hm. I don't suppose you'd be willing to testify to that? You see," a smirk began to form on Snape's face, "this isn't exactly the illegal version of Veritaserum. However…it does still work. Hm?"

Harry gave the man a mortified look.

"Severus!" Dumbledore rushed into the classroom—to Harry's relief—and motioned for Snape to follow him out. He glanced at the students before waving his wand to empty the cauldrons and barked, "Class dismissed."

"I wonder what was so important that Dumbledore had to come down to the dungeons for," Ron mused as he and Harry walked down the corridor to find Hermione. She had probably run off to the library again for some "light reading material". Even if they didn't understand her, Hermione's friends had a respect for her which only comes from completely not being able to comprehend her motivation but supporting it nevertheless.

"Probably something with the Order," he replied. "I don't really trust Snape, though. It feels like he is way more on Voldy's side than ours."

Ron shot him a questioning glance at the mention of 'Voldy'. "Yeah, sure."

They walked in silence for a while. Harry had never really been one to talk, even amongst his friends. Only when there was some kind of life endangerment was when he had to go on with the blabber. Socially awkward? Perhaps. "Sorry, mate. I'm kind of out of it today."

"I've noticed," joked his friend. "Maybe Hermione's light reading material will interest you enough to get you to attention."

They shared a good laugh before entering the library.

Harry looked around for a bushy-haired girl with her nose buried in a book—also known as Hermione Granger. When he spotted her, he walked up quietly behind her as not to be notic—

"Hello, Harry. Hello, Ron."

The two boys shared a mystified look . "How do you do that?"

"Ronald, unlike you, I am able to multitask and be aware of my surroundings," she retorted smartly. Smiling at Harry, she ordered them to sit down and indulge in whatever book she had found interest in.

Almost before they were seated, she began whispering in a frenzy to get her words out. "So, I may or may not have done some spying on Malfoy—" and here Harry snorted, "—and I heard Dumbledore saying something about him being gravely ill."

Harry couldn't hold back. "He's joined him. You-Know-Who."

His friends looked skeptical. Ron was the one who spoke up after a long pause. "Harry, I know you don't like him, but I doubt the bloke is a…Death Eater. He's still young! And a slimy git, too. I doubt even You-Know-Who would want the likes of him."

"Rubbish! His father is with him!"

Hermione was furious. "Harry! Quiet down! You're getting attention we don't need."

"Don't give me that, Mione. You were thinking it too. I really doubt that getting the Mark is painless. He's probably just sick because that's part of the New Death Eater welcome basket." Harry resisted the urge to add duh at the end of his statement.

"You're blinded by hatred!" she hissed. "He is sick, not evil."

There was a long, awkward, tense silence for a moment. The Trio all had the same thought swimming about in their head, despite the conversation they just had. Then why is Dumbledore getting involved?

"Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter!"

Harry looked up to see Professor McGonagall with a concerned look on her aged face. "The Headmaster wishes to see you in his office immediately."

A frown came onto his face as he thought of all of the possibilities. It could be anything. News about Voldemort, the Order, his grades, his Muggle relatives, his friends, or about which type of lemon drop was the most sour. Knowing Dumbledore, anything was possible.

"Oh, and Potter?" McGonagall called out as he left the room. "He likes red licorice."

Red Licorice. The password to Dumbledore's office, obviously. Harry held his books tighter to him as he walked.

"Ah, Harry. Come in."

How does he even know I'm here before I get there? Harry wondered flatly. "Hello, sir. You asked for me?"

The old man nodded in confirmation. "Yes. Here, take a seat. Lemon drop?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

Dumbledore took one for himself before continuing. "The reason I called you here in the middle of class, Harry, is because I am…in a bit of a predicament. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I have my responsibilities to the students' well-being. I'm sure you are aware of what happened to Draco Malfoy?"

"Not really, sir," admitted Harry. "All I know is that he fainted, and that he was bleeding from the fall."

Dumbledore's usually twinkling eyes darkened with emotion and his eyebrows lowered. "It's far worse than that, my dear boy. Draco is very ill. He might die by tomorrow morning. His parents are away right now and cannot tend to him."

There was only the sound of the two of them breathing for about a minute. "Not to be rude, sir, but why are you telling this to me? Draco and I...aren't friends."

The old man looked stressed. "You see, Harry…I'm afraid you're the only one who can save his life."