Protective Bonds, 6

Title: Protective Bonds
By: Sadie DragonFire
Part: 6-7/?
Disclaimer: These characters were rightly stolen from JK Rowling and will be returned fully intact as soon as I finish with them.
Rating For these Parts: R
Warning: I'm strange. And I'm a tease, so don't expect things to go very *fast*. May be a few spoilers and some wrong information or misspelled names. Also, some suggestions of Ron/Hermione, but there is nothing major.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Feedback: Public, any and all, please.

Notes: I would like to say that I have never written Dumbledore, so I apologize for any and all OOC that may occur during the course of this fic. I've also noticed I switch scenes quickly, does that cause trouble for anyone?


It was a modest enough room. A table currently covered in books, two oversized armchairs, a small fireplace, and a double bed pushed against the back wall and draped with dark curtains. There was a single window in the wall along side the bed and a few rugs covered the stone floor. Their chests already been brought in and sat side-by-side at the foot of the bed. Hedwig's cage perched on Harry's chest and a similar yet larger cage sat on Draco's. The room as a whole was smaller than Harry's dorm room and slightly shabby as if many of the items had been dragged out of storage. But it was clean and actually rather cheerful in a way.

"I suppose it could be worse." Draco noted with a touch of mellow drama. He was sore at having walked the halls of Hogwarts hand-in-hand with Harry Potter. Professor McGonagall had been nice enough to wait until classes were in session to escort them to their new rooms, but even Harry had been shaken at the idea of encountering a fellow classmate on an errand.

Thankfully, no such instances had occurred and they were now safely placed in their new rooms. Harry tugged on Draco's hand, half dragging him to a door he just noticed. "What's this to?"

"The bathroom." McGonagall answered, looking around the room with a certain amount of satisfaction. "These quarters belonged to a teacher at some point. We actually found the bathroom facilities hidden behind an old liquor cabinet."

Still pulling Draco after him like an uncooperative two-year-old, Harry checked out the bathroom, finding sink, mirror, large shower stall, and the other necessities. Draco reversed force and hauled him over to their chests. "I hope nothing got left behind." He muttered darkly, moving the cage out of the way so he could dig through his belongings. Harry obligingly moved his hand to the back of Draco's neck. Draco used the freed hand to pull out his wand and tap in on the snap for the chest.

"I have a class to teach, so I'll leave you two to get settled. The current password is 'complication', the spell to change the password is signum milit, after which say your full name, the old password and then the new one. I think that should be it…" She trailed off and looked at them speculatively.

"I can't think of anything else." Harry shrugged. Draco raised a hand from a scarlet bond book to wave over his shoulder. Professor McGonagall hesitated and then nodded.

"Very well. Be sure to get your all schoolwork done, there'll be no excuses for not doing it. I'll see you tomorrow to discuss the arrangement of your classes." With another nod she left through the portrait hole.

"Good, it's all here." Draco sighed, flipping through a small journal.

"What, did you think someone was going to take your stuff?" Harry peeked curiously over Draco's shoulder, catching a vaguely sketched image on the bright white pages before the book was snapped shut.

"Anything is possible. Besides, Slytherin's are less than entirely trustworthy. Father taught me a locking spell before I even started here." He tucked the journal under a fold of clothing and pulled out a palm sized picture frame. The image inside showed a garden bench surrounded by roses. "This supposed to be a picture of my mother. When she's not fixing her makeup." He tossed the picture back in and closed the chest firmly. Which a quick tap of his wand and a muttered word, the locking spell was fixed back into place.

"I'm not going to take anything." Harry protested. Draco gave him a charming grin over one shoulder. A strange feeling fluttered through Harry's stomach.

"Yeah, so?"

"Is there anyone you trust?" Harry wondered, mildly mocking.

"Oh, there are one or two people. Not you, by any stretch." Draco snorted, standing up with toss of corn silk hair. He arranged the owl cage next to his chest, lacking a better place to put it.

"I'm flattered." Harry sighed deeply, absently rubbing the warm flesh under his fingers. Muscles shifted beneath his touch and he moved his fingers with them, digging deeper at the tender areas. A soft sound caught his attention and he finally focused on what he was doing. Draco's head was bowed, neck exposed to Harry's probing fingers, shoulders rolling with pleasure.

Feeling oddly disconnected from his body, Harry moved a step closer and brought up his other hand. Slowly, he pressed the pads of his fingers against the curve of Draco's neck, moving his still working hand down to Draco's shoulders. Letting his instincts guide him, he gently massaged the soft skin. The contact was making his chest feel tight, a strange warmth spreading through his stomach. Draco responded to his caresses like a cat, arching and purring. Harry licked at his lower lip, thumbs following the smooth line of Draco's muscles to his spine.

The air felt charged and heated, like a storm waiting to break. Gravity was pulling them closer together; a whirlpool of want drawing them to its center. Draco's head lifted as Harry's hands caressed a path up the base of his neck, traitorous fingers cupping forward to brush the softness beneath his ears and the curve of his jaw. Silken hair tickled the backs of Harry's hands and he swayed forward to breath in its scent. Pine and apple spice, sweet and tempting, like Christmas. But it was Christmas back home, when a seeking a candy treat was dangerous, no matter the temptation. And Draco was a snake in the grass that waits for weakness, ready to become a dragon that would shed his heart free with uncaring jaws.

Only Draco was shaking under his touch now, storm cloud eyes awash with confusion and fear as he looked over his shoulder, and Harry realized how close he was standing. His mind was a distance away, full of fear and protests but unable to stem the swell of longing that was being released inside of him. But something had to stop it, trap it back where it belonged, because he couldn't, it was wrong and he couldn't…

*Rustle Clatter*

The moment ended like a shattered glass, throwing them back a respectable distance from each other. Both of Harry's hands dropped and Draco caught the left one with a Seeker's speed, his head whipping in the direction of the noise. An eagle owl fluttered franticly against the glass window.

"Gwydyon!" Draco gasped, hauling a dazed Harry after him to throw open the window. The massive bird sailed past on impossibly quiet wings, coming to rest on the burgundy colored bedspread. Hedwig flew in directly behind, hooting her disapproval at the location change. She settled next to the eagle owl and they hissed at each other.

"They seem to hate each other." Harry heard himself saying. As they watched, Hedwig ruffled her feathers threateningly and Gwydyon hunched over and mantled his wings.

"Awww, how sweet." Draco said, his tone falling a little flat on the joke. Still, Harry smiled faintly, the tension from earlier dissipating. He silently thanked the owls for interrupting. Even though he was nervous about ever looking Draco in the face again. His fingertips tingled.

"I don't know though, do owls really feel that way?"

"Ours apparently do." Draco shrugged. "Maybe our feelings are passing over to them?" He offered doubtfully. Harry made a non-committal grunt.

[But…do I really hate you? No, stop that!] He shook his head wildly, nearly unsetting his glasses as he tried to dispel the dreamy feeling that had settled over him. [Knock it off you're being stupid. This is Malfoy, God's sake.] But that's the point, isn't it? [Stop it!]

"Hey…now that Gwydyon's here, I can send a letter to my father!" Draco realized with delight. "Perfect! Since the twits around here aren't doing it, I'll just take care of the matter myself." Cheerfully, he dragged Harry to the table for quill and parchment.

"Wait, that's for Dumbledore to decide! Can't you just wait a little longer?"

"I've waited four days, that's long enough." Draco dug up his writing supplies one handed. Harry yanked at their conjoined hands in sheer annoyance.

"You don't know how your father is going to react to this."

"What are you getting at?" He smoothed out a roll with his elbow and tried to open the inkbottle. Harry wasn't letting him use his other hand at all, pulling him back with it in an attempt to remove him from the table without anymore physical contact than that. Draco was stronger than he looked and was being downright persistent about doing this.

"Think! He's one of the many people who'd like to see me dead and now…"

"My father wouldn't hurt me!"

"I'm not you, so what's to stop him?"

"But if you're hurt…no, he won't! I won't let him, so shut up!"

The vehemence in his words startled and stopped Harry. Quietly amazed, Harry watched as Draco finished off his letter and called over his owl. The great bird landed with surprising gentleness on the edge of the table near their Charms books and held out one leg. Draco tried once to tie the letter on, then gave up and used a knotting spell.

Harry snapped back to his senses as Gwydyon lifted off for the window. He really didn't want to see what would happen if Lucius Malfoy came to Hogwarts demanding to see his son and the Professors weren't ready for it. Swiftly, he reached into his robe, searching his mind for a good untying spell. If he could zap the letter off after his owl went through the window, then shut the window and…

The action became moot because the instant Gwydyon passed the window frame, the letter burst into a cloud of purple smoke.

The poor bird was badly shaken by such an event and gave his owner a fearful hoot before vanishing beyond the rooftops, heading presumably for the owlery. The two teens watched his departure with wide eyes, standing as far from each other as they could in their current condition. From the bed, Hedwig made a pleased sound.

"Well," Draco said finally, "That answers that. Lets check out our homework, shall we?"


Warm weight covered him, moving and pressing against him. Hands traveled unexplored paths over his arms and chest, sending white hot sparks through his system. They slid over his stomach and to his thighs, skidding teasingly over where the ache was the strongest. He protested the playing, his own hands catching on heated flesh. Laughter sounded near his ear, mocking and bright. Wet hot kisses trailed along his neck, making him arch and gasp. He smoothed his hands past thin cheeks, curling his fingers in hair soft and light as spider silk. Tenderly, the head in his hands turned and that soft mouth kissed and licked the inside of his arm. The laugh rang out again, low and warm, and those ever moving hands *finally* closed around his aching need. He called out in desire and relief, that lithe hot body fitting perfectly against his own, touch moving fast and hard. Moist heated air rushed past his ear, vaguely muttered words only half heard. He thrashed and clung, moving franticly and pleading and…

…woke up.

Harry blinked into the fuzzy darkness, totally disoriented, then groaned as he registered the body curled up against his back. Draco squirmed against him and his still racing pulse beat faster, his pajama bottoms painfully tight. He twisted his fist in the bed sheets, biting his lower lip in the hope that the pain would calm him down. It didn't help much, not with Draco so warm and close to him.

[No, no! I don't want to think about that right now.] Details of his dream lover teased at him, so very familiar. [I did *not* have wet dream about Draco, I refuse to even consider the idea.] Draco moved again, nuzzling his face into the curve where Harry's neck met his shoulders, lips lightly brushing across his skin. Harry gasped involuntarily, a jolt of heat passing through his body. Draco hands rested on his flanks, palms pressed into the curve of his waist, fingers twitching in the fabric of his pajamas.

[Oh, he's so close…No don't think about it…I can feel his breath. I can't get up and do anything; it'll wake him up too. Please don't move, just don't move.] As usual, Draco wasn't in the mood to listen. He scooted down a bit, face still tucked against Harry's back, and his hand slid down off Harry's side, passing over his twitching stomach to rest on the sheet.

The ghosting touch, so very near his desperate hardness, combined with moist breath and the faint touch of slightly moving lips, caused a flash of pleasure that made him jerk in reaction. And Draco suddenly jumped awake into a half-sitting position.

The shock effectively killed most of the arousal in his system.

Harry focused on breathing normally, trying his damnedest to make Draco think he was still asleep. Draco pushed himself up further, the hand near Harry's stomach lifting away, thighs tucking up near his own. The other boy mumbled something. Then, soft fingers trailed over the arch of Harry's forehead, sliding through his ruffled bangs, and tracing the outer shell of his ear.

[Is he doing it on *purpose*?!]

The touch left his face. Then, grumbled; "Bloody three 'o clock in the morning." Damp warmth came close to his ear, the awareness of someone leaning near his face. "Go back to sleep."

[Oh, hell.]

Draco twisted onto his other side and almost instantly dropped back into sleep.

Harry stayed awake for much longer and fretted.


According to "Wizards and Witches Throughout Time", only one wizard has ever successfully killed anyone with a look. Brunhilda Osguard had had since early childhood, a curse that caused the people she stared at too long to suddenly keel over and die. It was something the poor lass found quite upsetting, for over all she was nice person, and ended up spending most of her life in sunglasses. She ended marrying a blind man, having found out that if the receiver of the look couldn't see it then the curse didn't work, and actually lived a very happy life.

Professor Severus Snape was currently attempting to duplicate Brunhilda's abilities. Lacking both Brunhilda's curse and her pleasant disposition, the look was less than effective, but he sure has hell wasn't going to stop trying.

For all of its lack of in killing strength, Harry found the glare to be unsettling all the same and strongly wished it would be directed somewhere else entirely.

"Mr. Potter, how do you feel about losing your Divination class?" McGonagall questioned from amid shuffling papers. She made a sound of annoyance and flicked her wand. The papers settled themselves into proper order. Harry straightened himself under the intensity of Snape's look, trying to quell the nasty feeling it was giving him.

Before he could answer, Snape spoke up smoothly. "I really don't see where he would have a problem, especially since the class interferes with Draco's Arithmancy."

Draco took up the offered line easily, "And I did agree to take Charms and Herbology with Gryffindors, after all, I don't see why you can't grant me a favor."

Previously ready to agree, Harry instantly changed his line of comment. "And I'm taking History and Transfiguration with Slytherins, so I don't see how that applies."

Gray eyes narrowed in thought, Draco hitched his chair forward so he was the main receptor of the hate glare. "We can sit at dinner with your friends on weekends and Mondays."

"Monday through Friday, or no deal."

"But that's five days…oh, all right. But all holidays are with Slytherins!" Draco poked his arm for emphasis. Harry nodded.

"Deal. You'll have to help me with the class, I've never taken it."

"No, you'll just have to fail."

"Miss Granger is in that class as well, I'm certain you can arrange some study time with her." Professor McGonagall's expression made it quite clear she would accept no excuse for failure. "Well, that settles it then. Oh, for your information, the Headmaster has decided to inform your families of this event in three days time, after he has had the chance to speak with you. You can go back to your rooms now." She tapped the papers on her desk and they began flying around again; some filing themselves away, others folding themselves up and sealing for mailing.

Draco made as if to protest, but changed his mind. He and Harry stood, and Snape rose as well. "I'll escort you back." He offered silkily. Harry's stomach dropped and Draco smiled in delight.

The trio moved quickly down the hall, the boys still nervous about schoolmates and a certain poltergeist. Snape walked alongside Draco, pointedly ignoring the arm he had partially wrapped around Potter's waist.

"I'm pleased to see you're holding up well. I know how difficult this must be for you." Snape said to Draco with almost fatherly concern. Draco rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"Its hellish. But," he gave Harry a sidelong look, "Show promise for improvement." Harry fought a losing battle with a blush. Snape snorted in mild disbelieve and continued on.

"I've taken the time to search through the library. I'm sorry to say the counter spell won't work at this time, but after a few months, the spell should be sufficiently weak that the counter spell will---"

"Break it?" The teens spoke up in near perfect unison.

"No, sadly not, but it will weaken it to much greater extent than if left to time. Ah, here we are." The guard to their room was an old picture of Lockheart that got left behind. It was currently involved in a compact mirror and didn't look up as they stopped in front of it. "Have a nice evening Draco. Don't forget you can come talk to me whenever you feel like it."

Harry was aware that he was being deliberately excluded and for once, didn't really give a damn. "Complication." He half snapped. The Lockheart gave him a dirty look for interrupting his preening, but the portrait swung open anyways. Draco was still chattering with Snape, appearing as thought the world were a bright, happy place. A sick feeling rushed through Harry and he tugged on Draco.

This somehow inspired Severus to glance up and favor Harry with his best impression of Brunhilda Osguard yet. Harry forced himself not to cringe before it. If he thought Snape hated him before…

Draco turned suddenly, pushing Harry into the room. "Goodbye, Professor. I'll see you later."

"Hmm." Snape nodded, attention still fixed on rendering Harry lifeless, when Draco unceremoniously closed the portrait in his face. Harry gave his a wide-eyed look.

"What?" Draco demanded of Harry's apparent awe. Harry shook his head.

"I'm speechless!"

"Oh good, stay that way." Draco sounded more testy with himself than with Harry. He ran a hand through his hair, twisting his fingers in the slivery-blonde length. "I must be losing my mind." He said softly.


"Oh. My. God."

"Yes, horrifying, isn't it? Can you believe a five-foot essay on the history of cauldrons? I mean, how much can you say about cauldrons, really? Its positively indecent I tell you." Ron gestured dramatically with his quill.

"What? No, no, not that. I already finished it. I mean, this!" Hermione slid the book in front of him, nudging him over in the chair to fit her slender body. He scooted over a bit to make room for her and leaned over the pages.

"My, a color chart. Shocking, really."

"Twit. It's a color code for emotions and the way they appear in spells. Remember the colors during that protection spell?"

"Yeah, sliver and read, wasn't it?" Now interested, Ron leaned closer over the book, putting his arm behind Hermione's back to make more room for her on the chair.

"Exactly. Harry's was silver, read what it says."

" 'Silver-The color of mistaken emotion. Love that has been confused with hate.' " Ron stopped and re-read the sentence. Then did a third and fourth time to make sure he read it right. "Oh, my, God."

"My thoughts exactly." Hermione nodded dismally. "Read the one for red, that was Draco."

" 'Red-The color of denied emotion. Love that has been strongly and deeply denied, almost to the point of being forgotten. Can develop into an obsession.' Good Lord, this certainly puts a twist on things."

"To say the least. Should we tell Harry?"

Ron looked up from checking the descriptions for typos or possible misreading on his part; "Oh, of course. 'Hello Harry, did you know you're madly in love with the boy you've been hating for five years? Trust us Harry, we got it out of a book, and you know those *never* get us into trouble.' That'll go down real well."

Hermione pushed him off the chair.


"Look, maybe you should tell him."

"Absolutely not! There must be some mistake in the text, it's just a matter of figuring it out."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Leave me alone. I can hope can't I?"

"There is a fine line between hope and denial and you're crossing it."

"This is why I like hanging out with Harry more than you."

"Thanks, Ron. But seriously, we should tell him. Or at least clue him into it, I'm certain that the teachers already know."

"Yes and that worries me. I hate it when they know more than we do."

"Um, Ron, they're supposed too. That's why they're the teachers and we're the students."

"See, there you go bringing reality into it…" Ron propped his feet up on the table, as if to block out his friends logic. Hermione laced her thin fingers together and rested her chin on them, watching Ron from under arching eyebrows.

"Well, most of *do* live in the real world. At least as real as Hogwarts ever gets."

Colin took that moment to scuttle over to their table. He'd lost most of his Harry-worship over the years, his steady girlfriend helped in that regard, but he still stayed on top of the latest Potter info. He was also still the shortest of his year-group.

"Guys!" He panted, having apparently run all the way there. "I just heard the strangest thing! They say Harry is sleeping with *Draco Malfoy*! Can you believe that?"

Hermione's chin slipped off her hands and she just barely kept from banging it on the table. Ron slouched lower in his seat until his shoes hid his face. Colin looked from to the other, like he was watching a particularly wild Quiddritch match.

"Well?" He demanded, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other. Hermione looked at him seriously.

"They're not having sex, if that's what you want to know." She tossed back her hair in a manner that would have put Narcissa Malfoy to shame. "Frankly, I'm appalled that you would even think of such a thing *or* go around spreading rumors about it."

Colin stopped bouncing, wide eyed. "I w-wasn't suggesting…don't tell Harry I said anything about it, okay? Please?" He shifted again, nearly incapable of staying still for a long time, "But I didn't mean---not really---I'd just heard…"

"Its okay Colin, I believe you." Hermione interrupted quickly, "Just don't go spreading it around."

"I won't! I promise!" With that he took off again, like a frightened humming bird. Ron was staring at her through his spread shoes. Hermione shook her head in dismay.

"He didn't say they were having sex…"

"Ron, you're not that innocent so don't pretend to be." She folded her arms on the table and rested her head in them. "I'm actually surprised it took this long to get back to us." She lifted her head so that her chin was pressed into the hard wood.

Ron wove his quill around his fingers, wondering how innocent Hermione thought he wasn't. "Harry's gonna kill us when he finds out about this."

"He won't get the chance to; Malfoy will get there first. C'mon, lets brush up on our curse blocking skills."


With the drapes drawn, at the right time of the day, sunlight covered the right side of the bed, creating a puddle of warmth that was perfect for curling up in. They hadn't bothered to make the bed for two days running; neither was allowing the other's friends to visit and it was simple to close the bed draperies against the prying eyes of visiting teachers. Instead, they wallowed among the haphazard bed sheets like lazy kittens, soaking up heat and company, though they would strongly deny the latter, strangely comfortable in the dream-like quality that settled on them when left alone. It was much more insolated here than in the hospital ward.

The need for constant contact had faded quite a bit and they made a point of enjoying the hour or so they could tolerate not touching. They were currently enjoying one such time frame. Harry was sprawled on his back, selfishly taking up most of the sunny spot, one foot on the flattened pillows, the other hanging off the bed and swinging at the knee. Both of his arms arched above his head, like in parody of a virgin sacrifice, the right one twitching in Draco's direction against his will.

Draco sat cross-legged with arms and chest braced against the footboard. His eyes were half-closed and he had that look people sometimes get when contemplating the universe. His fingers pressed and rubbed the smooth expanse of polished oak, following the twists of the grain with single-minded focus.

"One of the tables in my father's library was made of this wood." He said softly. Harry closed his eyes and hummed in reply. "I used to sit in a high chair made just for me with books that read themselves when I touched the words. Mother would sit next to me and make sure I read as much as I listened."

Harry listened to Draco's breathing, an unpleasant pressure teasing his temples. "There was this cartoon Dudley used to watch when he was younger. For some reason, he would let me watch it with him. He even shared his candy with me one time." He paused in his story, left foot swinging up high, sunlight reflecting off pale toes. "It only happened once." He concluded turning his head until his face was tucked against the curve of his shoulder. He breathed in, the material of his robe adhering to his mouth and opened his eyes. Draco shifted a bit closer to him.

"Mother would sing sometimes when she was bored. She didn't do it very well I think, because father would tell her she sounded like a dying seagull. I thought it was all right." His right hand slipped off the footboard, picking at a fold in the bedding.

"Aunt Petunia would sing with the radio. And if dying seagulls sounded like that, I only hope someone was kind enough to put them out of their misery. She had the worst taste in music." He watched the progress of Draco's hand on the bed. He had such pale skin, pale as the skin of Harry's feet and ankles that never saw the sun. "She'd listen to this really old, hooky Country music."

"All Muggle music is bad." Draco had slim, graceful hands, with neatly trimmed nails that still managed to get dirt under them. Harry closed his eyes to stop looking at them.

"This was even worse. Believe me." He stretched his arms out to their full length, pads of his fingers scraping the footboard. He pulled his left foot back onto the bed, twisting onto his side to face Draco, exposing his backside to the sun's heat.

Draco tucked his head catlike into the arch of his left arm, slivery hair falling across cool gray eyes. "There was a monster in moot around the manor. I've never seen it clearly, only a few arms and heads. I used to throw my dinner leftovers to it so I wouldn't have to finish them. That is, until my nurse got me at it." He smiled faintly, eyes suddenly opaque. "Father thought it was clever of me."

Harry brought his hand closer to Draco's, the pain in his temples and the empty, hollow ache in his stomach getting harder to ignore. "You talk about your father a lot." He spoke quietly, maybe so Draco wouldn't hear properly.

"He's important to me." Draco answered easily. He was the one that brought their hands together and Harry nearly gasped aloud as relief and warmth flooded him. "Maybe more important than my mother. Mostly my nurses took care of me; father did all the fun stuff. Hmm, just three minutes over an hour."

Harry pushed himself up and checked the timekeeper. Draco was right. The position put them at nearly eye level. In his mind, Harry saw himself pulling Draco closer, on top of him and wrapped around him like the way they slept. All long limbs and hot, pale skin, and lean frame, and stormy eyes that flashed lightening when threatened. Harry turned away from the suddenly accessing look in those same eyes, turned until his back was pressed against the footboard, their shoulders touching.

Things were getting out of hand and quickly.

Sometimes he thought Draco was aware of his increasing interest. Was challenging him to try something, anything. Other times, when panic or disgust was apparent in the other's narrow face, Harry was uncertain. Trying to comprehend Draco was an elusive an act as catching the Snitch in a windstorm. But that he had done, surely he could to this. The question was, could it happen before he lost control of whatever was being set loose inside of him?

Draco leaned into his side and Harry listened to his breathing and absorbed the warmth of the sun. Tomorrow, they would see Dumbledore and discuss telling Lucius Malfoy about his son's new bedmate and see what came of that. The day after tomorrow, they would return to normal classes and rumors and Hermione and Ron. He looked forward to seeing his friends again.

"We should be able to separate even more tomorrow. Than we're home free after that…"

---No, it'll just be starting.


It was clear from the expression on Draco's face that he had never been here before. His gaze traveled restlessly from the bookshelves, to the desk, to the cabinets, to Fawkes preening on his perch. Harry was more caught up in the memories of the Headmaster's office, for it always seemed he came here when something bad was happening or going to happen.

The door opened and Dumbledore himself entered, long bearded and bright eyed. He hadn't been at Hogwarts that much recently, he was one of the main planners for the fight against Voldemort and was frequently on the move. Still, he made time for his students, which is what made him a good Headmaster.

"Ah, good. You're both here." He smiled openly, striding further into the room. Draco pulled a face at the unspoken suggest that they would come separately. Dumbledore seated himself at his desk, long white whiskers brushing his hands as he braced his elbows on the desk and wove his fingers together. He gazed at them thoughtfully and they gazed back.

"Young Malfoy," he began, "You have expressed the desire to let your father know that you have become spell bound to young Potter here."

Draco was quiet, but sat up straighter when he realized he was supposed to respond. "Yes…sir." Harry pressed his lips together, annoyed. Dumbledore raised a single eyebrow and looked amused.

"You are aware of your father amenity to Harry?"

"Yes, sir."

"How do you think it would react to this?"

"Well, he would---" Draco stopped, brow lowering as his did some quick, albeit late, mental calculations, "He would make sure that things were sped along quicker. Ah, quickly as possible and-"

Harry beamed with mischievous delight. Draco had been bragging to him, and the other teachers, about just what his father would do when he got here. It was amusing to see Draco stumble before Dumbledore's steady gaze.

"Look, sir. My father has many resources and I'm *certain* he would be able to help separate us." Draco finished smoothly, doing a creditable job of making up for his earlier slip. The Headmaster sighed.

"I didn't ask what your father was capable of, Mr. Malfoy, I was asking how he would react to this. He would love to see Harry dead and you are, in a sense, placing Harry into his lap." Fawkes ruffled his feathers and yawned.

"What are you suggesting?" Draco demanded, sitting up ramrod straight in his chair. Harry leaned further back into his chair and pressed his wrist against Draco's.

A cool look replaced the normally bright, warm one on Dumbledore's face. "If given the chance, Lucius Malfoy would put Harry in Voldemort's hands, without a second thought. Surely you know this."

Draco looked baffled and off balance. "But that's different."

"Oh really? I'm dead either way." Harry spoke up a bit testily. Draco shot him an angry, confused look.

"It was one thing before, but its different now. I'll talk to him. He'll fix things." Draco said with unshakable conviction. Harry got the sudden strange image of a child Draco looking up at his father with absolute devotion.

"So when its over," Harry said slowly, "And we're separated, then its okay if your father turns me over to Voldemort." He felt oddly hollow saying it, even though the thought had lingered in the back of his mind for a long time. As if giving it voice made the possibility greater. [Damn you Draco.]

For his part, Draco looked as though the rock solid ground beneath his feet was suddenly supportive as Jell-O. "Look, it's different, I'm telling you." Draco leaned forward and then to toward the other teen, as if he was trying to pull away from Harry and curled up against him at the same time.

"Different because now Mr. Potter means something to you?" Dumbledore questioned calmly, clear eyes watching their interaction.

"No!" Draco protested too quickly. Harry was starting to feel agitated; Draco's upset was bothering him and he captured Draco's wrist in his fingers, wanting to protect and comfort at the same time.

"So it wouldn't matter if Harry became hurt?"

Draco flinched, pulling back into his chair. "I won't let that happen." He spoke just above a whisper. His hand twisted, catching Harry's fingers in a death grip, not looking at the other boy. His eyes were fixed on Dumbledore.

"Even if it's your father causing the pain?" There was quiet intend in Dumbleore's tone, like a bloodhound searching endlessly for its goal. It might have soothed or at least pricked Harry's curiosity under any other circumstance, but now he was becoming increasingly upset and hardly noticed it.

"I won't let it happen." Draco said again, looking for a brief heartbeat as if he was being torn in two. It passed on swiftly and he looked calm, cool, and certain once again. The coolness was actually something Harry had missed the past few days and seemed strangely out of place on Draco's face. "But I don't have to worry about. I trust my father." Pure faith, completely unquestionable.

"I'm glad that someone does." Was all Dumbledore said, the warmth returning to his face. "Harry, do you care if write to the Dursleys about this?"

He started to something along the lines of 'knock yourself out', but changed his mind while the words were en-route to his mouth. He could just imagine life with the Dursleys after that had even more things to bother him with. No, he could do without that.

"Um, do they have to know?"

"The spell bond will still be in affect over the summer. So if you and Mr. Malfoy end up living with them, it would be better if they knew about it before hand." Dumbledore reminded him.

"Oh no, not the Muggles. If had to live with them I may be forced to curse them." Draco protested, returned to his normal self. Harry eyed him critically.

"Tell them. We're staying with the Dursleys this summer." Dumbledore's mouth quirked and Draco sputtered in annoyance.

"Absolutely not!"

"Stop complaining, you sound like a five year old."

"I'll just get started on those letters."

"You act even more childish than me, Potter."

"Now there's a comeback."


Narcissa was at her vainity, applying perfume with the crystal stopper to the graceful curve of her wrists and neck. Each movement was studied and practiced, each daily activity a show for her private audience. Imagined or real. Lucius watched from the doorway, not yet announcing his presence. She was lovely as an expensive statue and even more valuable. Cool sapphires settled against pale flesh as she secured a necklace about her slender throat. Draco got his slim beauty from her.

Thinking of his son spurred Lucius into the room. He pulled the bejeweled hair comb from her neatly styled bun, releasing the holding spell that came with it and setting free a tumble of honey dark hair about her face. She turned to look up at him; hands skimming own her front to land in her lap, making no other reaction to his play.

He set the comb on the counter amid the small bottles and flasks. "Use the diamond one. It suits you better." She smiled faintly, the lightest curve of painted lips and picked up the aforementioned hairpiece.

Narcissa didn't brattle pointless gossip at him and expect him to listen, like other women did. In fact, Narcissa didn't brattle at all, didn't open her mouth unless she had something worthwhile to contribute. It was a trait that had first drawn him to her side. "I got a letter about Draco today from Hogwarts."

"Oh?" Flawless arms curved into elegant arches above her head as she re-secured her hair. He held out the parchment and she brought down her arm in a smooth dancer-like motion, washing him a wave of flower sweet perfume. She took the parchment delicately, twisting in her seat so that their knees touched. He watched her closely has she read.

At a length, she lowered the paper and regarded him though blue eyes clouded with slivery gray. "There are other ways to gain wealth and power." She said simply, as though carrying on a different conversation.

Lucius shook his head and captured one tiny wrist, bringing it to his nose. "You don't double cross the tiger that's been set free." He countered softly, breathing in the sweetness of her perfume. "There are rewards and there are prices, and when one outweighs the other, there are choices to make."

He looked at her briefly, an unspoken question of loyalties. He kissed her palm, curling her fingers inward. She tilted her head at him, promising and coy, submissive and challenging. Playing to her invisible audience.

"What ever you wish, Lucius." She answered lovingly.

And meant it.

To be continued…


::stares at the above fic in amazement:: Wow, this one came almost right after the other. My muses are back!! ::attaches herself to ShadowHunt's lower legs like a sugar high five year old.::: Yay!

ShadowHunt: ::sighing:: Blazer love, get the crowbar.

^^;; Anyway. I was listening to my Celtic music CD while writing this, so the mood of the fic tended to switch depending on what song I was on. And….where the heck did this angst come from??? Saa na.

Until next post,

---Sadie
DragonFire