Chapter 7

A week later, Harry was talking to a customer about a certain product, having become quite knowledgeable about some of the potions in the shop, while Draco manned the counter. He had just been in the shop for about ten minutes, but there was always work to be done here. Some of the regulars already recognised him, and Harry realised that when he wasn't trying too hard to hide from the press or fans, it was easier for him to go by unnoticed. The man he was speaking to now didn't even blink when Harry gave his name as Mr. Potter. Either the man didn't recognise him at all, or he simply didn't care about Harry's origins. That was the best part – he was safe in this shop. Potions would never be his passion, but it was a good way for him to occupy his time, and neither Draco nor Mr. Mulpepper seemed to mind.

The door swung open and Harry turned to smile at the new customer, only to feel his smile fade quickly off his face when he saw Hermione striding up to him decisively.

"Hermione, what –"

"We need to talk, Harry." Her voice was stern, and Harry had a sudden realisation that he was sometimes rather afraid of her and would listen to anything she said when she used that tone of voice on him. Then again, who wouldn't?

Harry smiled at his customer. "Excuse me, sir," he said, and allowed himself to be pulled to a more discreet location in a corner of the shop.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed at Hermione, who shot him a glare in return.

"That's what I should be asking you," she said, sounding cross. "Is this where you've been?" she asked, looking around the shop quickly before turning to face him again. "I simply thought you'd gotten addicted to some sort of potion, but I walk in and find you're working here! You never told Ron or me about this new job!"

"You were following me!" Harry accused.

"It doesn't matter! Now when did you decide to become a Potioneer?"

She really does need to sort out her priorities. "I'm not working here, Hermione!" Harry snapped. "I'm just helping out."

"And why did you choose this place?" Hermione challenged. "I'm not an idiot, Harry. You have to have chosen this place for a reason."

Nervously, Harry glanced over at the counter, where Draco was watching the scene unfold with concerned blue-grey eyes. Unfortunately, his small movement was all Hermione needed. She turned to look in the direction he was, and her jaw visibly dropped. It took a few moments for her to compose herself and look at him again, a fire in her eyes.

"Why are you working with him?" she hissed through gritted teeth.

"I..." Harry knew there was no easy way to explain this. "He...I..."

"Is this what's been bothering you, Harry?" she asked persistently. "Is this why you've been acting so strange? Because if you're being threatened or forced to do something you don't want to –"

"Woah, woah, Hermione, slow down," Harry cut in. "I'm not being blackmailed. Draco and I –"

"Oh, he's Draco now?"

"Will you just listen to me?" snapped Harry. "Draco and I have been...sort of connected. I can't quite figure out how."

"Are you trying to come out of the closet?" she inquired, looking perfectly exasperated.

"No, no! Merlin, I'm going about this all wrong," Harry groaned. "Can you...sit down for a moment? There's a chair in front of the counter –"

"I am not taking a step near Malfoy until you tell me what's going on!"

Harry sighed. "Fine. Then wait here." He paced over to where Draco was.

"Granger have a problem?" Draco asked, carelessly counting Sickles.

"Yeah, you see, I haven't quite told her about..." Harry gestured lamely between them. "...this connection stuff."

Draco frowned, then nodded. "I see."

"If you don't mind, I need to...sit her down," Harry said apologetically.

Draco sighed, moving away from the counter. "It's all yours. Please at least attempt to count some of the coins while you're at my station."

Harry smiled gratefully, waited for Draco to disappear behind some shelves, and gestured for Hermione to sit down at the counter. She came over, eyeing the back of Draco's head apprehensively.

"Look, here's the gist of it..." Harry explained everything that had been going on to Hermione, including the details about how Mr. Mulpepper inferred that they were experiencing connected symptoms, because he knew she'd want to know every single little bit of information. She even started asking some questions of her own, which Harry answered as patiently as he could. When he was finished, she had an odd, thoughtful look about her.

"I think I understand, now," she said, almost to herself. "And it all should make sense, but it doesn't; it doesn't!"

"What are you going on about?" Harry asked, even though he knew the chances of his getting a straight answer were rather slim.

"It's so simple, but something's missing from the equation," she muttered.

"What is it?" Harry repeated.

"I just can't put my finger on it, but it's there –"

"Hermione!" Harry burst out. "What are you talking about?"

"Harry, you and Malfoy have been Bound!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's the only reasonable explanation, yet there's a factor missing – "

"Wait, wait, what do you mean, bound?" he gulped. "Like...Dark Arts Bound? Or...marriage Bound?"

"Don't be silly, Harry," Hermione said irritably. "From what you've told me, it's got certain elements of the Marriage Bond, but that wouldn't enable you to feel each other's emotions! What I'm understanding from this is that it's a lot deeper than that, and it's as if something is trying to force both of you together."

"And how do I make it go away?" Harry questioned.

"Which part of the there's-a-missing-factor bit did you not understand?" Hermione snapped. "I can't figure all of it out in ten seconds, Harry. But I can suggest that you and Malfoy spend as much time together as possible."

"That's what I'm doing, aren't I?" Harry said. "That's why I'm here."

"No, Harry, that isn't what I meant," Hermione sighed. "What the Bond you've developed is trying to do is push both of you together. The only way to neutralise its effects until we know what caused it would be to give in to what it wants."

"What are you saying here?" Harry demanded.

"I'm just suggesting that if both of you...crashed with each other for a while –"

Harry's eyes widened in a way that might have been comical, had the situation not been so serious. "No! No way! I am not moving in with that git –"

"Why not? You seem pretty chummy to me," Hermione replied, without batting an eyelash.

"Can't I just go on doing what I'm doing, visiting him every day?" Harry asked. "Isn't this a bit too much?"

"No, Harry, that's not how Bonds works!" Hermione snapped, looking extremely frustrated. "Don't you realise that you've been spending more and more time at this damn shop each day?"

"How would you know that?"

"Timestamps on the newspaper photos," Hermione replied, looking annoyed that he had to ask. "And I'd gather that you feel worse each time after you leave."

"How are you getting all these conclusions?" Harry groaned, nearly sending silver coins scattering messily across the table in his frustration.

"It's just an intelligent guess, Harry," Hermione sighed. "Anyway, my point is –"

"No! Hermione, we're not going to move in together!"

A hush fell over the shop, and Harry realised that he'd spoken too loudly. Hermione flushed scarlet and frowned at him as Draco came over, a warning look in his silver eyes.

"Is it so difficult for you both to keep your voices down, or are you always this excitable?" he asked, half-disapproving, half-exasperated.

Hermione took a precautionary step back. "I...I was just trying to convince Harry here that moving in together was a good idea."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? Harry never mentioned a girlfriend."

"I wasn't referring to myself," Hermione snapped, gathering a little courage. "I meant with you."

Draco laughed – it was humourless. "Is this a far-fetched little theory or fantasy of yours, Granger?"

Hermione went even redder. "How dare you suggest –"

Draco held up his hands in mock-surrender. "I jest," he said non-comically. "But I must confess that I don't understand what has led you to make this statement."

Hermione drew herself up to her full height, reminding Harry of a cat ready to spring. He recognised that look – she was about to make an intellectual argument. "I believe that you and Harry have been Bound by some means I do not yet understand." She paused, as if waiting for him to argue so she could prove her point, but he didn't. Instead, he looked thoughtful for a moment.

Several moments passed before he muttered, "Yes, that would explain quite a lot."

Hermione's shoulders sagged slightly in a mixture of relief and shock before she asked, "Are you mocking me?"

"No," Draco replied matter-of-factly. "I don't understand why I didn't see it before, to be frank."

Hermione's jaw dropped – a Malfoy was admitting to making a mistake.

"But how could we have been Bound?" Draco went on, frowning slightly. "We made no contact with each other for several months beforehand."

"That's what I don't understand," Hermione said warily. She paused for a few moments before straightening her shoulders again, a curious gleam in her eyes. Harry recognised this, too – it was the look she used when she was about to have an intelligent conversation with an intellectual person. "But you see now why I've suggested you both move in together."

Draco shook his head, performing all the calculations easily in his head, already mostly understanding what had taken Harry several explanations to grasp. "We cannot be 100% positive that both parties experience the feeling of increasing loss – "

"He does," Hermione cut in. "I asked him. And if you had simply done just that earlier instead of pretending not to care about it, you might've figured it out weeks prior."

Draco's eyes flashed at the challenge, but he remained mostly calm. "You understand, of course, that I cannot possibly endorse this idea of yours. Although it would, without a doubt, ease the discomfort, I rather like to believe that both of us can handle it rather well, seeing as we've dealt with worse things in the past."

If Hermione was thrown off by his implications, she did not show it. "And you understand, of course, that within a few months both of you would have become so crippled by the effects of this Bond that the only way to neutralise them would be to force you two together in ways you probably would not be happy with."

Draco clamped his mouth shut, looking away, and Harry could've sworn his usually pale face coloured. Hermione looked triumphant.

"What?" Harry asked, not sure what was going on.

Hermione ignored him. "You know I'm right, Malfoy. The only way to avoid such a situation from occurring would be to stave it off."

"I don't believe this," Draco groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"I don't understand," Harry said, frustrated, but once more, he was ignored.

"It's pointless to fight against a bond this powerful," Hermione went on as Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, looking rather upset. "Let it get too far, and it'll either be going to that extreme, or simply becoming crippled by the Bond's effects, and I'm certain you'd have to go with the former."

"What's the former?" Harry practically yelled.

"We aren't even fully aware of the Bond's strength –" Draco attempted.

"It was certainly strong enough to bring both of you together," Hermione said calmly. "It'll compel you into performing acts I'm not sure you want to perform."

"There's no need to spell it out," shot back Draco.

"Actually, yes there is! What is going on?" Harry questioned.

Hermione was focused on Draco. "That's how Bonds work, Malfoy. If ignored, they get stronger and stronger until the only option left is that one."

"Guys!" Harry finally shouted, bringing himself to attention. Hermione and Draco turned to look at him, as did half the patrons in the shop. He lowered his voice a little. "Do you mind going a little slower, for the less genius people here?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, as if realising the reason Harry hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw. "If you don't stave off the Bond's effects, it'll end up drawing you closer and closer until the only way to relieve the strong connection would be to get as close as possible."

"Meaning...?"

Draco rolled his eyes and muttered something about ignorance under his breath before turning away and sinking into one of the chairs in front of the counter.

"Meaning, Harry," Hermione said patiently, "that you'd both have to get...very close indeed."

It took a few moments for those words to sink in, and when they did, Harry's eyes widened and flicked to Draco for a few short moments before darting back to Hermione again. "That...can't..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say. "But I'm not gay!" he ended up protesting weakly.

"I doubt your sexuality will matter much when you're consumed by agonising –"

"Salazar, you don't have to paint a picture!" Draco exclaimed, standing up defiantly again and turning to her. "Look, Granger, I appreciate the concern, but –"

"Don't flatter yourself," she said coldly. "I'm doing this for Harry. And if you're the only one who can make him see sense, I don't have much of a choice than to include you, do I?"

Draco didn't even flinch, but his gaze turned icy. "Touching. My point is that I will not agree to moving in with Potter." Harry registered the use of his surname and resisted the urge to turn to him and tell him to relax.

"And why not?" Hermione snapped. "Because you boys and your egos just don't know when to quit?"

Draco glared at her for several moments, then said quietly, "I think you'd better leave."

Hermione's gaze was fierce and challenging and would've sent many people running in fear, but Draco barely even moved. "Fine," she said. She turned to Harry. "I hope you'll be the one to see sense first. I don't want to have to clean up any messes." With that, she turned and strode right out the door.

Harry didn't move, torn between running after her to apologise (potentially having to face her fury alone) and staying here with a very pissed off Draco. He didn't have to make the decision, though, as Draco turned on his heel and walked through a side door, slamming it behind him. Harry heard the click of a lock.

Sighing, he slunk down onto the chair behind the counter and resumed the mundane task of counting out Galleons, wondering when his life had started spinning so completely out of control.

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Neither Draco nor Harry spoke about the incident with Hermione for the next few days. Things were strained between them, and Draco had taken to calling Harry "Potter" again, which he found very unfair, because he hadn't done anything wrong.

It wasn't until a little over a week later that Mr. Mulpepper decided to do something about it. It was a lazy afternoon, and business hadn't quite been on a roll. The shop was empty and Draco was sitting at the counter reading some potions book while stirring a cup of tea. Harry was seated rather rigidly in front of him, pretending to be immersed in a piece of parchment with nothing on it.

Mr. Mulpepper approached them, sat on the remaining stool, and smiled. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with that delightful girl last week."

Neither person responded, although Harry could almost hear Draco's unspoken oh, here we go.

"I think she's quite right," he went on pleasantly. "Perhaps if both of you stepped back and viewed the situation with objective eyes, you might agree with me."

Harry turned away, tossing the parchment in his hands into a trash bin in the corner, just to give himself something to do. Draco pretended not to be listening.

"Now I can see how difficult this must be for both of you, but surely you don't want to end up having intimate relations with each other just because of your stubbornness," Mr. Mulpepper added.

At that moment, both Draco and Harry snapped. "There will be none of that!" exclaimed Draco indignantly at the same time that Harry said "That's not going to happen!"

"Then you understand that moving in to one house would benefit both of you in the long term," Mr. Mulpepper replied smoothly. "Anyway, I'll leave both of you to make your arrangements." He swept out of the room, humming softly to himself.

Harry sighed after a few moments. "Draco, you know he's right."

"Don't even try, Potter."

"I'm not being unreasonable or anything here!" Harry snapped. "Honestly, I'd much rather move in with you than end up fucking you because I have no choice!"

Draco turned to glare at him, and Harry waited for the storm to hit. With a carefully guarded tone, he said, "What makes you think you'll be fucking me?"

Harry's jaw nearly dropped. Of all the impossible things he'd said in that sentence, Draco had chosen to pick up on that? "I'm not getting into technicality or anything, I'm just saying –"

"That because you're straight and I'm gay, you get to take control?" Draco asked, smirking coyly. "I've never let anyone fuck me before, and I don't plan to start with you."

Harry felt his cheeks heat up. "I didn't say anything of that sort!" He paused, then realised what Draco had said and asked with a tone of surprise, "You're gay?"

Draco made a clicking sound with his tongue. "The Prophet published a story on that nearly half a year ago, Potter. Where have you been?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't read the Wizarding papers much anymore."

"I shan't fault you there," Draco sighed. He stopped for a moment, as though thinking, then said, "Why do you believe that such an action would be a good idea?"

"I didn't say it would be!"

"I meant moving in together, Potter," Draco drawled with a roll of his eyes. "Really, it's incredible that you're able to carry a conversation with those slow wits of yours."

"There's no need to insult me," Harry said, annoyed. "And I don't think it's a wonderful idea that'd have us riding off into the sunset –" Draco snorted here, and Harry shot him a pointed glance. " – but it'd definitely be better than the other option."

"Yes, the alternative is far less appealing," Draco agreed quietly. "However, moving in together would probably result in a swift demolishing of whatever house we're living in."

"Seeing as it'll probably be my godfather's old house, I think not," Harry replied. "That building has withstood a lot."

"What makes you think we'll be staying in your place?" Draco inquired.

Harry groaned – were there no limits to a Malfoy's pride? "Because I have a responsibility to that house, you git. It isn't always about you, you know."

They stared at each other for a moment, cold grey eyes boring into bright green ones. Harry could feel the heatedness of Draco's gaze, he could feel the fire building within it – Draco was sizing him up. It took all his efforts not to squirm under that stare. How had he ever done this at Hogwarts without feeling subconscious? He recalled meeting that penetrating gaze on several occasions without blinking, instead goading Draco on with his own equally hostile glance. Harry narrowed his eyes daringly into a glare, the same way he remembered doing before.

Finally, Draco broke eye contact and shook his head. "I have a Muggle apartment. I'd much rather we move in there."

"I can't do that," Harry replied shortly.

"What sort of responsibilities do you have to a bloody house?" Draco questioned.

"First of all, there's Kreacher. I can't leave him alone," Harry began, but before he could go on, Draco cut in.

"Kreacher? The house elf, Kreacher?" he asked, looking mildly surprised.

"Well, yeah," Harry said, taken aback. "Why?"

Draco didn't reply, instead glancing down at the floor for a few moments before saying quietly, "So he's still there," he murmured. "I visited that house every year until I turned five." He glanced up at Harry and frowned, not seeming to notice Harry's surprise at the admission. "I remember a Grand-aunt Wulburga lived there – not a very hospitable woman."

Yeah, you're telling me, Harry thought as his mind flew back to the portrait of the late Mrs Black still stuck on his wall. He wondered vaguely if Draco would mind it being there, but didn't dare to bring it to light. "Your grand-aunt?" he asked instead. "Were you related immediately, or...?"

"Yes. She was my grandfather Cygnus' sister," Draco replied. "Why does that matter to you?" he inquired sharply.

"I'm just curious, that's all," Harry said hastily. "There's a tapestry with the Black family tree on it in the house, and I remember seeing your name there, but I never paid much attention to it." He smiled lightly. "Perhaps that's how we're connected – we're distantly related, you know."

Draco laughed hollowly. "I don't think so, Potter."

"Many Pureblood families are related," said Harry, who found himself getting more irked with each mention of his surname. "You're related to Neville, too. I can prove it to you."

Draco sniffed. "I didn't mean that I didn't believe that we were related, Potter. I merely meant that I doubt that's how we are connected. Otherwise, I would have experienced similar problems with McMillan and Flint, and that horrible Bulstrode girl."

Harry shrugged. "Fine. But until we come to an agreement on how to keep this bond at bay, there's no way we're going to be able to clear up what's really connecting us. Not with all these distractions."

Draco smirked, then said, "A very compelling argument." He stood up. "Very well, Potter. If need be, I will move in with you. But keep in mind that this whole affair is your idea, and not mine."

"Sure," said Harry, not fazed in the slightest. "And you keep in mind, when we figure it out, that we'd never have done it without my input."

Draco snorted, but Harry detected a smile under the facade. "It's on, Potter," he said.

A new chapter will be uploaded next Friday or Saturday.

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