Chapter 20

Harry woke by something hard hitting his stomach. Square. Hard, heavy and square. Though he figured that Malfoy had probably brought a book for him to look at and that he should be excited and grateful that the blond was helping so much, it wasn't really news. Or actually, maybe it was, but Malfoy had overdone it yesterday to the degree that Harry felt like he had been going on for weeks.

He yawned widely and tried to flip himself over, but found that his hand was stuck for some reason. He let a disgruntled growl, but yawned again and decided to let it be.

"Don't sleep, Potter! I've found something!" Malfoy exclaimed, annoyance clear in his voice.

"You have? That's nice, good for you, now I'm going to go back to sleep."

In Harry's defense, one at least had to mention that Malfoy had 'found something' (completely useless) about once every thirty minutes the day before, so he had developed an immunity to Malfoy's great discoveries by now.

The weight on his stomach eased, and he was just about to thank Malfoy for the consideration when it smacked back down again, even harder.

"Oof..." he got out as the air went out of his lungs.

Harry cracked an eye open. "What?"

"I told you, I've found something." Malfoy repeated.

"I know, I know," Harry had to break off in order to yawn. Again. "But what?"

"I know how Voldemort found out that this was possible."

"What!" Harry shot straight up. Or at least he tried to. Mostly he just bounced back at the mattress.

For the first time he actually looked for the reason as to why he seemed to be so unable to move. Around his wrists, firmly held above his head, he spotted something silvery and green; suspiciously alike a Slytherin tie. When he lifted his head to look at his feet, he found them in a similar position.

"What the hell...!" he burst, struggling to get loose. In vain, needless to say.

"Oh, cut the crap, Potter, and listen to me," Malfoy said impatiently, waving the book around in his hand.

"I'm fucking tied to the bed, Malfoy!" he drawled struggling even harder.

"I know, I know, I had to go to the library, and I couldn't have the psychopath roaming around here if you woke up, so I tied you down," Malfoy explained, as if he was talking to a complete moron. Which on closer consideration, he probably thought that he was.

"And you thought that tying me down was easier than to just take me along!"

"I didn't want to wake you, you looked so…" Malfoy cut himself off, seeming alarmed for some reason, "Quite frankly, you looked like a horde of Cornish Pixies couldn't wake you. And besides, you would just distract me."

Harry sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. Was it one thing head learned about Malfoy during all of this, it was that it was absolutely nothing to gain from trying to change his mind about something. A Malfoy mind was made up and set in stone long before you even got a chance to open your mouth.

"Then what the hell possessed you to tie me up with your ties?" Harry demanded. "Couldn't you at least have summoned rope when you were tying me, for crying out loud!"

"I didn't use my wand to tie you, Potter, I did it myself. And it's not like I have rope just lying about in here." Malfoy said with a roll of his eyes. "But listen to me; I have found something." Malfoy added, practically spelling out the words.

It didn't matter. An image of Malfoy kneeling on all fours, tying his wrists to a bedpost had appeared in Harry's mind.

"Potter. Listen. To. Me." Malfoy demanded, snapping him back to reality. Or the present, anyhow, seeing as what he had thought about might very well have happened.

"I'm listening, I'm listening," Harry assured quickly, and gave up the struggling.

"Good," Malfoy said, and moved further in on the mattress for Harry to be able to see the book that lay open in his lap. "Look at this," Malfoy said and pointed. Harry looked.

The picture under Malfoy's finger seemed old, but was surprisingly detailed. It showed a scene of a young knight kneeling in front of a king – judging by the crown – with a dagger in his hand, pointing at his own chest.

"This is some old book with lore and fables people supposedly told their kids long ago. It's described here how a king who was in battle was more often than not connected to one or several – should the first one die – of the knights fighting alongside him. If he died, his soul and magic could travel to another body and manifest inside of it. The knight would then kill himself in order to let the king have his body, and it very rarely happened that he didn't fulfill his part of the deal, seeing as the knight chosen for this had to have accepted this 'honor', as they call it. But the person that was to be taken over had to be close at the moment of death; otherwise the soul would vanish before it could manifest itself. And here comes the interesting part; seeing as a battle where the king dies is probably a losing one, the body is not only healed instantly, it's also apparated to a predetermined safe location. This leads us to conclude that it would be incredibly stupid for you to kill yourself." Malfoy said, and patted Harry's head condescendingly.

"And I also found the reason to why I'm good for you."

"What? Really? Why?" Harry asked in surprise, he had been wondering about that. And the sneaking suspicion that Hermione knew exactly why and that he had just neglected to ask her didn't help.

Malfoy smiled amusedly at him and shook his head. He then proceeded to toss the covers aside, revealing Harry's torso, and placed the book on his stomach. Harry himself couldn't really do much about it, seeing as he was still tied up.

"Oh, because there's something wrong with just using the nightstand?" he asked dryly and rolled his eyes.

"Yes," Malfoy replied, unable to hold back a smirk although he was obviously trying to look focused on the book whilst he flipped through the pages.

Harry – despite his annoyance – couldn't stop the twitching at the corners of his mouth. When the hell had they learned to be civilized to one another? Probably around the same time that they had reached the point where neither of them thought twice about the fact that he was tied like an X to the bedposts with Malfoy's ties while the blond in question sat cross-legged reading a book from Harry's stomach.

"Here," Malfoy said suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Harry watched as Malfoy's eyes traveled down the page. Malfoy's lips moved almost unnoticeably as he read. Harry had seen him do that previously when they had been reading. Now that he thought about it, it was actually somewhat troubling that he apparently had been watching Malfoy's lips to that extent. He didn't get the chance to analyze it further, though.

"Apparently it's a very sensitive magical process, and can be disturbed very easily by other magic. It's the same thing with other magical possessions, but with them it's usually just in the process of creating the link in those cases. Here, it can cause problems until the chosen person actually dies. I haven't actually been able to find a recorded scenario were the chosen didn't kill himself immediately – or get killed, for that matter – but I'll take a guess and say that the reason to why I need to stay closer and closer is that Voldemort manifests himself further inside of you, and therefore, my magic helps less and less."

Malfoy looked up from the book and met Harry's eyes. Neither of them was smiling this time.

A/N: But I am smiling! I'm both smiling and crying, because you guys are bloody amazing! I am literally crying. Your reviews last chapter. And EVERY chapter… I don't know what to say.

Know that just because I don't ask for reviews every chapter doesn't mean that I don't enjoy them; I do. I do, and all your reviews make me feel so appreciated and so proud that I have managed to create something that you like. Thank you. Thank you so much.

So, until next time, everyone!