Just some quick notes and stuff:
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, Draco, mostly anything Hogwarts related (other than little details) belongs to JK Rowling. Everything else, plot included, is mine
On with the story then....
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He stood there, seeming not to understand a word she was saying. A hand on his arm, he looked down, perplexed, such perfect fingers, resting delicately against his skin. A touch that was always so soft and now so poisonous; a touch that was always addicting.
"I'm sorry. I really am. I promise I don't mean to hurt you. It's just, well, I need some time alone. To think. To find myself." Her voice cracked, and the tears fell down her soft skin. He longed to reach out to her, to hug her, kiss her tears away, make everything better. She didn't deserve to hurt, even if it was her own choice. He would do anything to keep her from crying, to make it better. Anything.
But words failed, he felt like he was sinking, his perfect reality spiraling downward deeper into a pit of nothing. He loved her. Loved her with everything inside him, and now she was ending it. Rejecting him. He wanted to cry, wanted to throw up, choking on the words that were stuck in the back of his throat. He found his voice.
"Hermione. I. I don't know what to say." His voice was soft, every bit of hurt he felt inside echoed in his hollow words. "I really thought you loved me."
"You don't understand, you're not listening to me." She said sternly. "I do love you. I'm just not in love with you. I just need space. It's not you it's me." She sniffled, and wiped her eyes on the corner of her robes. "I just don't think that I am capable of loving someone the way you deserve to be loved. But really Baby, I care about you and if I didn't think this was for the best, I wouldn't do it."
"Don't call me 'Baby'." He said icily. Hermione cringed at the disgust in his voice, but she knew him better than that. She knew that he was just masking the hurt with bitterness. He looked up at her for the first time, making eye contact for the first time since she started the conversation. Her eyes were empty, blue pools of nothing looked back at him. No sadness, no regret, no sorrow, no guilt or shame; just emptiness. He looked around the common room, it was empty too. But at two in the morning that was expected. The fire beside them had died down to a dull glow, casting shadows on their figures. Hermione watched him, waiting for a reaction of some sort.
Turning to face her, he took her hands in his. He loved her. She loved him, and he wasn't going to lose her now. He wasn't. It just wasn't fair. He bent his neck and pressed his lips against hers, claiming her in a kiss that was intended to reignite the passion she once felt. It was only seconds before she tore herself out of his grasp and ran, throwing one last insincere look over her shoulder. And she was gone before he could even understand why he kissed her that last time. It was over. It was over for real. She was gone, she left him. His world was crumpling around him, the darkness of the common room was encircling him and slid to the floor with a thud. Slumped against the cold wall, he cried. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, collapsed as tears of pure hurt and betrayal poured from his eyes. He stayed crumpled on the ground until all he could do was shake with dry sobs.
Harry awoke the next morning in his bed. He had no recollection of how he gotten there, but he was there all the same. Before his eyes had even opened, the feelings of dread from last night washed over him. She was gone. Hermione, his love, the radiance in his life, had left him. Left him to die. Alone and lonely. He spilled out of his bed and staggered to the bathroom.
He looked at himself in the mirror, he was wearing red and blue plaid pajama pants, and his chest was bare. His skin was evenly tanned and the years of Quidditch had paid off in a sense that he was adequately developed and sculpted. His face however, revealed how much he had endured in the last 12 hours. His skin was colorless and pasty, with the exception of his green eyes, which were darkly rimmed with red, bloodshot and inflamed. The shimmer they once held was spent, and the vibrant green had faded to just a shadow of what they once were. His hair was even worse than usual; it stood up at all directions and refused to do anything remotely normal. He looked exactly like he felt, brokenhearted.
He went through the routine of getting ready for classes by habit. Putting on khaki slacks, a white oxford dress shirt, a tie in Gryffindor's colors and robes. He didn't bother to look in the mirror to make sure he had dressed properly, but it didn't matter. His shirt was barely buttoned; his tie hung loose around his neck and he had forgotten his belt completely.
By the time he staggered down to the great hall for breakfast it had filled completely. Harry scanned the room for Ron. Ron was his best friend. He had been since they met 6 years ago. Harry was convinced that Ron would choose his friendship over Hermione's. Clearly that's where his loyalties should and would lie. After all, they both knew that Harry would choose Ron in a heartbeat, given the chance. That's just the way it was.
But when he spotted Ron at the table, his stomach turned and he felt the ground rush up at his face even though he remained upright and the floor clearly wasn't moving. He stood paralyzed and just gaped at Hermione sitting with Ron, laughing, her hand on his arm, just like she had touched him the night before. That alone was enough proof of her true feelings; but when he examined his best friend and the woman he loved, he saw that Ron had his arm wrapped possessively and intimately around her waist. He had barely made it into the Great Hall before he'd seen her heavily flirting with his best friend and had been forced to turn and flee the sight. Overwhelmed by the nausea, he stumbled out onto the grounds. The frosty morning air of February bit at his nose and stung his fingers. Harry collapsed for a second time since his life twisted out of his control. Sinking down onto the frozen grass, he just sat with his knees pulled up against his chest, tears frozen on his pale cheeks.
The only person who saw his brief entrance and panicked escape sat across the great hall and watched with mounting amusement. Silver eyes followed the abrupt departure and Draco Malfoy got up to follow Harry. After all, why miss a chance to make poor Potter's life even worse?
Draco stood quickly, almost knocking his breakfast off of his table. His fellow Slytherins looked at him oddly as he followed Harry out of the Great Hall. He followed him down the corridor and out the main doors, onto the frozen grounds. Draco shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, mentally cursed the snow and himself for being out in the snow in the first place.
"Potter!" He shouted. Harry barely glanced up. Despite his grief, he still didn't want Malfoy to see him weak. He stood slowly, drawing himself up to his full height of 5'11. He wasn't the tallest but he was an inch or two taller than Draco.
"Leave me alone Malfoy, I can't handle this now. I can't handle you" He angrily brushed the frozen tears from his face in humiliation.
"What's wrong Potter? " Malfoy sneered at him. Harry stared blankly at his opponent, refusing to answer. "Not willing to share, eh? Well don't worry, word travels fast. I heard that your girlfriend left you for a Weasel? That's got to be harsh."
Harry grimaced at the words and looked down. He swallowed the response that almost came automatically. The automatic need to defend Ron's honor. At this point, Harry even made himself sick. He was so fucking pathetic and at least now he knew it too.
Draco didn't stop though, he continued the verbal assault with vigor. "So tell me, is it painful to know that in her eyes, he is that much better than you." Again, Harry just looked at him, too hurt to manage an even an icy stare. Malfoy's words hurt, they stung, but as always, that was expected. He hated Malfoy. Hated him to the point where it smoldered inside his torso and flared up into a full fledged flame at the worst possible times ever.
"Go away Malfoy" he finally managed, he spun on his heal he quickly walked away. Draco, unable to let Harry have the last word, followed at a jog.
"Potter. Hey! Potter!" He shouted. "Turn around Scarhead!" Harry ignored him as Malfoy caught up to him. "A mudblood and a weasel. How fitting." He sneered to Harry's back.
That was it. The embers of animosity raged inside and scalded all sense of reason. Harry whirled around. His fist connected to Malfoy's jaw, and knocked him backwards several feet as he tried to maintain his footing. Stunned, Malfoy just stood there and seemed unaware as Harry leapt onto him, beating his face with fury, letting everything out, hurling every profanity he could imagine at Malfoy's bleeding and bruising face.
"What is going on here" a bitter voice belonging to Professor Snape froze Harry in mid-swing. Draco used this sudden halt in his attack as an opportunity to leap up and run to Snape's side.
"Professor, he attacked me, do you know what this means? Look, I'm bleeding!"Malfoy panted, touching his split lip with a pale finger.
"I see Draco, I see. Potter." Snape began, "fighting already? I should point out I knew you were trouble from the start. 50 points from Gryffindor and detention for two weeks should do it." Malfoy let out a string of profanities from the pain and then looked at Snape expectantly. "100 points Potter, now get out of here before I take more."
Harry stood slowly and shot a deadly glance at Malfoy who was already headed towards the castle, Snape at his side. He looked down at his knuckles; they were split open and stained red with his and Malfoy's blood. He cringed as he wiped the metallic liquid onto his robes. He felt funny, hot inside, hot and thirsty. He turned towards the castle and left.
Once back in his room he lay down, resting his forehead against the cool pillow. He closed his eyes and opened his mind to the torrent of memories. His eyes burned as she came flooded back into his mind.
memory
It was spring, the air smelled of flowers and a gently breeze tickled his nose. He looked at her, god; she was gorgeous, as she laughed, as she tucked her hair back behind her ears. She was amazing. Leaning down his kissed her, gently, loving, she kissed back.
"I love you Harry," she whispered.
"I love you too Hermione" he exploded with emotions inside, kissing her again.
He loved her so much, and now she knew. He had said it. He had told her he loved her. She loved him. Everything was perfect.
He was jolted out of the memory by an owl landing on his stomach. It was tiny and he realized it as one of the owls reserved for in castle deliveries. He opened it slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the words
Harry-
please come to my office right away.
-Professor Dumbledore
Harry folded the note and slipped it in a pocket. He stood slowly, running a hand through his hair and wiping the tears that were continually leaking from his eyes. He headed off to Dumbledore's office. He knew the password, as he had been there a few times before. As he climbed the spiral staircase, he wondered what he could have done now. The door was half open and he knocked lightly and went in. Professor Dumbledore was sitting as his desk.
"Harry, Harry come in, sit down" he said. Harry walked in, the closing the door behind him.
"I'm sure you are wondering why you are here." Harry nodded slowly. "I was informed by Professor Snape that you were caught fighting with Draco Malfoy. More importantly that you were both bleeding."
Harry nodded again, not sure what the blood had to do with anything. "Professor," he started, attempting to explain, "he provoked me, he- he called Hermione- he called her a mudblood" at the mention of his ex- girlfriend, his eyes stung once more. Dumbledore waiting patiently for the teenager in front of him to salvage control.
"Harry, I need to tell you something very important about Draco Malfoy." He paused, as if thinking. "Mr. Malfoy is a Linkling Harry. Do you know what that is?" Harry shook his head, puzzled. "It's a genetic condition that runs in the blood of the men in the Malfoy family, it can bond a Linkling with a non Linkling. When you attacked Mr. Malfoy, you managed to mix your blood. Therefore resulting in an irreversible bond between you two. When we admitted Draco to Hogwarts, we knew of this condition and agreed to work with him to prevent him from accidentally connecting with anyone else. Do you see Harry? You are bonded to him, for the rest of your life."
Harry stared back at him, in shock. Unable to understand what was being told to him. Bonded to Malfoy. Connected to the one he hated most.
Harry sat in his chair, motionless and Dumbledore rose to let Draco into his office, followed by Professor McGonagall. When they were all seated again, he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, I'm sure you realize the severity of the situation at hand. I have brought you together to discuss how you would prefer e to handle it."
"I would prefer to die," said Harry icily. "Anything to avoid being connected to him." Harry uttered the word 'him' with such animosity and disdain that the room seemed to drop in temperature.
"And you both will, if you go longer than 48 hours without some sort of contact." Dumbledore said.
"I'm aware" Dumbledore continued, "that you boys do not have the best history together, and I am almost fearful to say that you will have to get over it, because from now on you need each other."
"This is your entire fault, Potter"
"My fault?! It's not my fault you have bad blood"
"At least I'm not a half-blood like you Potter"
"Not all of us define a good wizard as inbred" he spat back bitterly.
Draco tensed as Dumbledore interjected, to keep them from getting in another brawl. "Boys!" he said calmly "It should be most obvious to you that bickering will no longer get you anywhere. It is my humble advice that you come to terms with each other so that the rest of your lives aren't as miserable as they seem to be now. That is why I am making the executive decision to place you two in the far most tower towards the lake. It was reserved for visiting ministry officials, but I suppose you will have to use it. It only has one bedroom, but I can have the study turned into another one. The house elves take your things over there. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded dismally, and Draco shrugged his shoulders.
"Good. Then you may go get settled in your new accommodations, the password is 'linkling'. I will excuse you from afternoon classes, but," he emphasized, "use your time wisely."
Harry left the office quickly, desperate to be anywhere but there. He hurried to the other end of the castle, frantic to get to the new rooms and lock himself in his before Malfoy could. He was breathing hard by the time he reached the top of the spiral staircase. There was a portrait of a brown haired witch hanging on the wall. She eyed him suspiciously when he walked over to her.
"Password?"
"Linkling" he replied dully as the entrance opened. He climbed in and was quite impressed by what he saw. The first room was a small but elegantly furnished common room. 'This must have been for the Minister of Magic' he thought, based on the quality of the room.
The carpet was cream colored and plush; it was so thick he sunk softly down into a few centimeters. The walls were almost golden yellow, and decorated with many expensive portraits. There were two large couches and a fluffy looking armchair seated by a blazing fire. To his right there was a door and he walked over to it, peaking in. It was a small bathroom, just having a toilet and a sink. There was a staircase in the back right corner that he supposed led to the rooms. He climbed it slowly and pushed open the first door. The room had a four-poster bed; the curtains were a dark shade of Slytherin green. Everything else in the room matched, as it radiated darkness.
Continuing on he came to a second door, which led to another bathroom, which had a sink, a toilet, a bathtub and a nice shower. It was nice enough all right. The last room was of course his; it looked mostly like his dorm room except there was more privacy. He was shocked to see that his belongings had already been moved up. He pulled off his robes and hung them on the back of a chair. He reached into his trunk and pulled out a pair of Khaki pants. He heard Malfoy come in downstairs as he headed towards the shower.
Stepping into the steam filled shower, he relaxed immediately. He let the streams of searing water beat down on his face and chest as he took in the events of the day. Lazily he moved to wash his body, going over every last detail of what had taken place earlier. Bonded to Malfoy. There was no one else he would hate more to be stuck with for eternity. Except maybe Crabbe or Goyle, at least Malfoy showed some signs of intelligent life, beyond the façade he put up. Harry leaned into the flow of water, washing the grime off his body and off of his mind. He loved showering; it made him feel clean inside, purified by the penetrating steam.
He leaned his head against the glass wall of the shower, letting water cascade over his back. His eyes closed while his muscles loosened. Eventually he moved again, reaching to wash and condition his hair. He was washing out shampoo when he heard a noise. Figuring it was just Malfoy performing some death eater type ritual, he continued but was quickly interrupted by a scream. Malfoy stood in the middle of the bathroom, seeming completely horrified by the fact that he had just walked in on Harry in the shower.
"Jesus Christ Potter, at least have some decency to lock the door," he shouted, after taking one good look at Harry's drenched body. Harry just stood there, shampoo trails running down his body as he stood in shock. Quickly and angrily, he shook his head, soapy water splattering around him before immersing himself in the water once more.
'Fucking Malfoy' he thought 'insufferable git' .......
Draco stormed out. He wasn't really angry at all. He knew Harry was in the shower long before he had barged in. It wasn't his fault. The dark haired Gryffindor had certainly matured a lot over the years. His chest was broad, his face defined, green eyes positioned perfectly, he imagined how it would feel to have Harry watching him, those emerald eyes filled with lust. Draco was tall. Harry was taller. He was muscled and well defined. He certainly didn't have anything to be ashamed of. Draco walked back to his room smiling. He had known he was bisexual since the beginning of third year. It wasn't until quite recently that he had lost all attraction to women at all.
Lying down on his bed, he closed his eyes and imagined Harry as he was at that exact moment. Rivulets of water running down his chest, stomach.. Further down. Draco blushed as he pictured the pure manliness of Harry, and as he felt himself growing stiff. He heard Harry leave the bathroom and sighed. Harry hated him. He hated Harry, so why the fuck was he thinking this way about him?
Harry thumped down the stairs, wearing only khaki cargo pants. His chest was bare, his pants hung low; exposing that fact he wore nothing underneath. His hair was unruly and wet, sticking in bits to his forehead. He had long since had his eyes magically repaired, making glasses no longer an issue. He had turned into a very attractive man.
Harry sat down at the Table that was in the Common Room. He had brought down his Potions book and was about to start the 3-foot long essay Snape assigned on the dangers of love potions. He opened the first book and skimmed the page; the words all seemed to meld together, Potions was by far his worst subject. He would have failed it completely if it weren't for Hermione. But now she was gone too. His world was spiraling out of control and he was powerless to stop it.
Draco came back downstairs about an hour later. He sneered at Harry. "Not much more clothed I see Potter, but at least you've hidden the embarrassing parts." He snickered obnoxiously had his own joke.
"Don't you have somewhere; anywhere else you could go Malfoy? Perhaps the death eater's are having a meeting? I'm sure you're father knows, you could owl him. Why you are at it, be sure you complain lots about this current situation, maybe he can buy you a new life"
"Fuck off Harry" he snarled. 'Whoa' he thought to himself 'I called him Harry'
"I really don't remember giving you permission to call me Harry. So go the fuck away, I've got enough to worry about seeing as I'm already failing Potions."
"Potions?" Malfoy asked, suddenly curious. "The love potion essay?"
"Yes" Harry replied suspiciously "What of it?"
"Potions is my best subject. I could help you" 'what the fuck?? Did I just offer to HELP Potter?'
"Thanks, I'd rather fail 100 times over than have to spend one more unnecessary moment with you"
"Jesus Harry! You're going to bloody fail!?"
"Why should you care? Wouldn't you like seeing me fall again? And do NOT call me Harry."
'He has a point. Why do I care?' Draco mused. "I don't care, I'm just bored and I like potions. I also like challenges, and I'm assuming getting anything through your thick skull will be a challenge."
Harry was quiet for a moment; he knew Malfoy knew that he needed help. He would rather have anyone but Malfoy help him, but at the moment there was no one else. He really didn't want to take remedial Potions.
"Fine. Help me"
Draco sat down across from him, pulling the book Harry was reading towards himself. He scanned the page for only several seconds before he looked up. "No wonder it makes no sense. This isn't the right book." He stood up and hurried to the stairs, only to return moments later with a stack of books. Harry was shocked, to see Malfoy excited over anything, much less excited over helping Harry.
Draco set a book down in front of Harry. "Page 492. Love potions. That should be enough information for most of your essay. But you also have to talk about why love potions are illegal and why they were outlawed. Also you have to mention why they are so difficult to brew. Potter, listen." and he launched into an explanation about the complex brewing of the potion. After several minutes of explaining, he looked at Harry, "Does it make sense?"
Harry nodded, peculiarly, it did.
"Okay, when your done let me see it, I'll check it for you" and with that he was gone out the portrait hole.
Harry stared at his paper wondering what the hell had just happened. Had Malfoy just been nice? Ron wouldn't believe it. He stopped at that thought. Ron was gone from him. He had seen him and Hermione out on the grounds that day. Kissing. And more. They were both dead to him. He was completely and utterly alone in the wizarding world. His parents dead, Sirus dead, his two best friends dead. All he had was this stupid connection to Draco Malfoy that was promising to make his life miserable.
Draco walked back into the small common room around 3 in the morning. He was quite drunk, having spent the evening and early morning hours back in the Slytherin common room with Blaise and Pansy. He stumbled in, almost falling on his face. He held his alcohol quite well, but he had had an exceptional amount. In light of recent events, he figured it was okay.
He looked at Harry, who was asleep on his potions books at the table. He almost laughed out loud at how innocent Harry looked when he was asleep. Come to think of it... he did laugh. Draco walked over to Harry's sleeping body and stared innocently at him. His perfect pink lips were slightly parted and his hair was messy as expected, sticking in every direction. Each breath he took barely ruffled the papers spread around him. But Draco was mesmerized. He only stood there for a second before the alcohol caused him sway and to crumple by Harry's feet.
Harry awoke with a start, and almost looked quizzically at Draco who was laying at his feet giggling.
"I fell over Harry" Draco told him, in case Harry had missed the obvious.
"I can see that Malfoy. Fucking don't call me Harry." He studied Draco for a moment and then it dawned on him. "How much have you had to drink?"
"A teensy little bit" he replied, motioning with two fingers, to show the "small" amount he had had.
"Right. Okay." Harry sighed. It was late, or rather, early, and he didn't want to deal with this. He raked his hair out of his eyes and stood up. "Can you stand?"
"Of course" Draco proceeded to stand up, and then collapse onto Harry in a fit of giggles.
"Um. I guess not." Harry moved Draco off of him and guided him to the couch where he "helped" (read: pushed) him to lie down. Harry looked down at Draco and smirked in a very un-Harry like manner. When he turned to leave, Draco spoke.
"Wait."
"Bloody hell, what now?" Harry groaned, without turning around.
"Harry Potter." He paused for what he considered necessary dramatic effect; "you look hot when you sleep."
"Pardon?" Harry slowly turned around.
"Hot. Attractive."
"What the hell?" Harry exclaimed, frustrated for a reason he didn't understand. Draco looked up at him, his usually cold eyes were almost innocent and his face wasn't a stone wall.
He almost looked human. But then something that can only be described as panic flashed through his eyes, and the next moment he threw up all over himself the couch and the floor. Harry just watched, dumbstruck as Draco coughed and burped and got EVERYTHING out. Finally Draco ceased.
Harry just groaned again. "This is not happening," he muttered to himself mostly because Draco was just lying there now completely transfixed by the mess he had made. Harry shuddered as the smell of liquor and bile reached his nose.
"You fucking owe me Malfoy. I should leave you here to choke on your own stomach acid." He muttered a quick cleaning spell and flung a thick chenille throw blanket over Draco.
"Thank you," Draco whispered.
"Don't thank me. I already wish I left you crumpled on the floor by the table."
Draco grinned. Albeit it was a drunk smile and somewhat loopy, it was still a smile, and not a smirk. "Goodnight Boy-Who-Lived." And with that he passed out.
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Top of Form
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, Draco, mostly anything Hogwarts related (other than little details) belongs to JK Rowling. Everything else, plot included, is mine
On with the story then....
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He stood there, seeming not to understand a word she was saying. A hand on his arm, he looked down, perplexed, such perfect fingers, resting delicately against his skin. A touch that was always so soft and now so poisonous; a touch that was always addicting.
"I'm sorry. I really am. I promise I don't mean to hurt you. It's just, well, I need some time alone. To think. To find myself." Her voice cracked, and the tears fell down her soft skin. He longed to reach out to her, to hug her, kiss her tears away, make everything better. She didn't deserve to hurt, even if it was her own choice. He would do anything to keep her from crying, to make it better. Anything.
But words failed, he felt like he was sinking, his perfect reality spiraling downward deeper into a pit of nothing. He loved her. Loved her with everything inside him, and now she was ending it. Rejecting him. He wanted to cry, wanted to throw up, choking on the words that were stuck in the back of his throat. He found his voice.
"Hermione. I. I don't know what to say." His voice was soft, every bit of hurt he felt inside echoed in his hollow words. "I really thought you loved me."
"You don't understand, you're not listening to me." She said sternly. "I do love you. I'm just not in love with you. I just need space. It's not you it's me." She sniffled, and wiped her eyes on the corner of her robes. "I just don't think that I am capable of loving someone the way you deserve to be loved. But really Baby, I care about you and if I didn't think this was for the best, I wouldn't do it."
"Don't call me 'Baby'." He said icily. Hermione cringed at the disgust in his voice, but she knew him better than that. She knew that he was just masking the hurt with bitterness. He looked up at her for the first time, making eye contact for the first time since she started the conversation. Her eyes were empty, blue pools of nothing looked back at him. No sadness, no regret, no sorrow, no guilt or shame; just emptiness. He looked around the common room, it was empty too. But at two in the morning that was expected. The fire beside them had died down to a dull glow, casting shadows on their figures. Hermione watched him, waiting for a reaction of some sort.
Turning to face her, he took her hands in his. He loved her. She loved him, and he wasn't going to lose her now. He wasn't. It just wasn't fair. He bent his neck and pressed his lips against hers, claiming her in a kiss that was intended to reignite the passion she once felt. It was only seconds before she tore herself out of his grasp and ran, throwing one last insincere look over her shoulder. And she was gone before he could even understand why he kissed her that last time. It was over. It was over for real. She was gone, she left him. His world was crumpling around him, the darkness of the common room was encircling him and slid to the floor with a thud. Slumped against the cold wall, he cried. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, collapsed as tears of pure hurt and betrayal poured from his eyes. He stayed crumpled on the ground until all he could do was shake with dry sobs.
Harry awoke the next morning in his bed. He had no recollection of how he gotten there, but he was there all the same. Before his eyes had even opened, the feelings of dread from last night washed over him. She was gone. Hermione, his love, the radiance in his life, had left him. Left him to die. Alone and lonely. He spilled out of his bed and staggered to the bathroom.
He looked at himself in the mirror, he was wearing red and blue plaid pajama pants, and his chest was bare. His skin was evenly tanned and the years of Quidditch had paid off in a sense that he was adequately developed and sculpted. His face however, revealed how much he had endured in the last 12 hours. His skin was colorless and pasty, with the exception of his green eyes, which were darkly rimmed with red, bloodshot and inflamed. The shimmer they once held was spent, and the vibrant green had faded to just a shadow of what they once were. His hair was even worse than usual; it stood up at all directions and refused to do anything remotely normal. He looked exactly like he felt, brokenhearted.
He went through the routine of getting ready for classes by habit. Putting on khaki slacks, a white oxford dress shirt, a tie in Gryffindor's colors and robes. He didn't bother to look in the mirror to make sure he had dressed properly, but it didn't matter. His shirt was barely buttoned; his tie hung loose around his neck and he had forgotten his belt completely.
By the time he staggered down to the great hall for breakfast it had filled completely. Harry scanned the room for Ron. Ron was his best friend. He had been since they met 6 years ago. Harry was convinced that Ron would choose his friendship over Hermione's. Clearly that's where his loyalties should and would lie. After all, they both knew that Harry would choose Ron in a heartbeat, given the chance. That's just the way it was.
But when he spotted Ron at the table, his stomach turned and he felt the ground rush up at his face even though he remained upright and the floor clearly wasn't moving. He stood paralyzed and just gaped at Hermione sitting with Ron, laughing, her hand on his arm, just like she had touched him the night before. That alone was enough proof of her true feelings; but when he examined his best friend and the woman he loved, he saw that Ron had his arm wrapped possessively and intimately around her waist. He had barely made it into the Great Hall before he'd seen her heavily flirting with his best friend and had been forced to turn and flee the sight. Overwhelmed by the nausea, he stumbled out onto the grounds. The frosty morning air of February bit at his nose and stung his fingers. Harry collapsed for a second time since his life twisted out of his control. Sinking down onto the frozen grass, he just sat with his knees pulled up against his chest, tears frozen on his pale cheeks.
The only person who saw his brief entrance and panicked escape sat across the great hall and watched with mounting amusement. Silver eyes followed the abrupt departure and Draco Malfoy got up to follow Harry. After all, why miss a chance to make poor Potter's life even worse?
Draco stood quickly, almost knocking his breakfast off of his table. His fellow Slytherins looked at him oddly as he followed Harry out of the Great Hall. He followed him down the corridor and out the main doors, onto the frozen grounds. Draco shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, mentally cursed the snow and himself for being out in the snow in the first place.
"Potter!" He shouted. Harry barely glanced up. Despite his grief, he still didn't want Malfoy to see him weak. He stood slowly, drawing himself up to his full height of 5'11. He wasn't the tallest but he was an inch or two taller than Draco.
"Leave me alone Malfoy, I can't handle this now. I can't handle you" He angrily brushed the frozen tears from his face in humiliation.
"What's wrong Potter? " Malfoy sneered at him. Harry stared blankly at his opponent, refusing to answer. "Not willing to share, eh? Well don't worry, word travels fast. I heard that your girlfriend left you for a Weasel? That's got to be harsh."
Harry grimaced at the words and looked down. He swallowed the response that almost came automatically. The automatic need to defend Ron's honor. At this point, Harry even made himself sick. He was so fucking pathetic and at least now he knew it too.
Draco didn't stop though, he continued the verbal assault with vigor. "So tell me, is it painful to know that in her eyes, he is that much better than you." Again, Harry just looked at him, too hurt to manage an even an icy stare. Malfoy's words hurt, they stung, but as always, that was expected. He hated Malfoy. Hated him to the point where it smoldered inside his torso and flared up into a full fledged flame at the worst possible times ever.
"Go away Malfoy" he finally managed, he spun on his heal he quickly walked away. Draco, unable to let Harry have the last word, followed at a jog.
"Potter. Hey! Potter!" He shouted. "Turn around Scarhead!" Harry ignored him as Malfoy caught up to him. "A mudblood and a weasel. How fitting." He sneered to Harry's back.
That was it. The embers of animosity raged inside and scalded all sense of reason. Harry whirled around. His fist connected to Malfoy's jaw, and knocked him backwards several feet as he tried to maintain his footing. Stunned, Malfoy just stood there and seemed unaware as Harry leapt onto him, beating his face with fury, letting everything out, hurling every profanity he could imagine at Malfoy's bleeding and bruising face.
"What is going on here" a bitter voice belonging to Professor Snape froze Harry in mid-swing. Draco used this sudden halt in his attack as an opportunity to leap up and run to Snape's side.
"Professor, he attacked me, do you know what this means? Look, I'm bleeding!"Malfoy panted, touching his split lip with a pale finger.
"I see Draco, I see. Potter." Snape began, "fighting already? I should point out I knew you were trouble from the start. 50 points from Gryffindor and detention for two weeks should do it." Malfoy let out a string of profanities from the pain and then looked at Snape expectantly. "100 points Potter, now get out of here before I take more."
Harry stood slowly and shot a deadly glance at Malfoy who was already headed towards the castle, Snape at his side. He looked down at his knuckles; they were split open and stained red with his and Malfoy's blood. He cringed as he wiped the metallic liquid onto his robes. He felt funny, hot inside, hot and thirsty. He turned towards the castle and left.
Once back in his room he lay down, resting his forehead against the cool pillow. He closed his eyes and opened his mind to the torrent of memories. His eyes burned as she came flooded back into his mind.
memory
It was spring, the air smelled of flowers and a gently breeze tickled his nose. He looked at her, god; she was gorgeous, as she laughed, as she tucked her hair back behind her ears. She was amazing. Leaning down his kissed her, gently, loving, she kissed back.
"I love you Harry," she whispered.
"I love you too Hermione" he exploded with emotions inside, kissing her again.
He loved her so much, and now she knew. He had said it. He had told her he loved her. She loved him. Everything was perfect.
He was jolted out of the memory by an owl landing on his stomach. It was tiny and he realized it as one of the owls reserved for in castle deliveries. He opened it slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the words
Harry-
please come to my office right away.
-Professor Dumbledore
Harry folded the note and slipped it in a pocket. He stood slowly, running a hand through his hair and wiping the tears that were continually leaking from his eyes. He headed off to Dumbledore's office. He knew the password, as he had been there a few times before. As he climbed the spiral staircase, he wondered what he could have done now. The door was half open and he knocked lightly and went in. Professor Dumbledore was sitting as his desk.
"Harry, Harry come in, sit down" he said. Harry walked in, the closing the door behind him.
"I'm sure you are wondering why you are here." Harry nodded slowly. "I was informed by Professor Snape that you were caught fighting with Draco Malfoy. More importantly that you were both bleeding."
Harry nodded again, not sure what the blood had to do with anything. "Professor," he started, attempting to explain, "he provoked me, he- he called Hermione- he called her a mudblood" at the mention of his ex- girlfriend, his eyes stung once more. Dumbledore waiting patiently for the teenager in front of him to salvage control.
"Harry, I need to tell you something very important about Draco Malfoy." He paused, as if thinking. "Mr. Malfoy is a Linkling Harry. Do you know what that is?" Harry shook his head, puzzled. "It's a genetic condition that runs in the blood of the men in the Malfoy family, it can bond a Linkling with a non Linkling. When you attacked Mr. Malfoy, you managed to mix your blood. Therefore resulting in an irreversible bond between you two. When we admitted Draco to Hogwarts, we knew of this condition and agreed to work with him to prevent him from accidentally connecting with anyone else. Do you see Harry? You are bonded to him, for the rest of your life."
Harry stared back at him, in shock. Unable to understand what was being told to him. Bonded to Malfoy. Connected to the one he hated most.
Harry sat in his chair, motionless and Dumbledore rose to let Draco into his office, followed by Professor McGonagall. When they were all seated again, he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, I'm sure you realize the severity of the situation at hand. I have brought you together to discuss how you would prefer e to handle it."
"I would prefer to die," said Harry icily. "Anything to avoid being connected to him." Harry uttered the word 'him' with such animosity and disdain that the room seemed to drop in temperature.
"And you both will, if you go longer than 48 hours without some sort of contact." Dumbledore said.
"I'm aware" Dumbledore continued, "that you boys do not have the best history together, and I am almost fearful to say that you will have to get over it, because from now on you need each other."
"This is your entire fault, Potter"
"My fault?! It's not my fault you have bad blood"
"At least I'm not a half-blood like you Potter"
"Not all of us define a good wizard as inbred" he spat back bitterly.
Draco tensed as Dumbledore interjected, to keep them from getting in another brawl. "Boys!" he said calmly "It should be most obvious to you that bickering will no longer get you anywhere. It is my humble advice that you come to terms with each other so that the rest of your lives aren't as miserable as they seem to be now. That is why I am making the executive decision to place you two in the far most tower towards the lake. It was reserved for visiting ministry officials, but I suppose you will have to use it. It only has one bedroom, but I can have the study turned into another one. The house elves take your things over there. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded dismally, and Draco shrugged his shoulders.
"Good. Then you may go get settled in your new accommodations, the password is 'linkling'. I will excuse you from afternoon classes, but," he emphasized, "use your time wisely."
Harry left the office quickly, desperate to be anywhere but there. He hurried to the other end of the castle, frantic to get to the new rooms and lock himself in his before Malfoy could. He was breathing hard by the time he reached the top of the spiral staircase. There was a portrait of a brown haired witch hanging on the wall. She eyed him suspiciously when he walked over to her.
"Password?"
"Linkling" he replied dully as the entrance opened. He climbed in and was quite impressed by what he saw. The first room was a small but elegantly furnished common room. 'This must have been for the Minister of Magic' he thought, based on the quality of the room.
The carpet was cream colored and plush; it was so thick he sunk softly down into a few centimeters. The walls were almost golden yellow, and decorated with many expensive portraits. There were two large couches and a fluffy looking armchair seated by a blazing fire. To his right there was a door and he walked over to it, peaking in. It was a small bathroom, just having a toilet and a sink. There was a staircase in the back right corner that he supposed led to the rooms. He climbed it slowly and pushed open the first door. The room had a four-poster bed; the curtains were a dark shade of Slytherin green. Everything else in the room matched, as it radiated darkness.
Continuing on he came to a second door, which led to another bathroom, which had a sink, a toilet, a bathtub and a nice shower. It was nice enough all right. The last room was of course his; it looked mostly like his dorm room except there was more privacy. He was shocked to see that his belongings had already been moved up. He pulled off his robes and hung them on the back of a chair. He reached into his trunk and pulled out a pair of Khaki pants. He heard Malfoy come in downstairs as he headed towards the shower.
Stepping into the steam filled shower, he relaxed immediately. He let the streams of searing water beat down on his face and chest as he took in the events of the day. Lazily he moved to wash his body, going over every last detail of what had taken place earlier. Bonded to Malfoy. There was no one else he would hate more to be stuck with for eternity. Except maybe Crabbe or Goyle, at least Malfoy showed some signs of intelligent life, beyond the façade he put up. Harry leaned into the flow of water, washing the grime off his body and off of his mind. He loved showering; it made him feel clean inside, purified by the penetrating steam.
He leaned his head against the glass wall of the shower, letting water cascade over his back. His eyes closed while his muscles loosened. Eventually he moved again, reaching to wash and condition his hair. He was washing out shampoo when he heard a noise. Figuring it was just Malfoy performing some death eater type ritual, he continued but was quickly interrupted by a scream. Malfoy stood in the middle of the bathroom, seeming completely horrified by the fact that he had just walked in on Harry in the shower.
"Jesus Christ Potter, at least have some decency to lock the door," he shouted, after taking one good look at Harry's drenched body. Harry just stood there, shampoo trails running down his body as he stood in shock. Quickly and angrily, he shook his head, soapy water splattering around him before immersing himself in the water once more.
'Fucking Malfoy' he thought 'insufferable git' .......
Draco stormed out. He wasn't really angry at all. He knew Harry was in the shower long before he had barged in. It wasn't his fault. The dark haired Gryffindor had certainly matured a lot over the years. His chest was broad, his face defined, green eyes positioned perfectly, he imagined how it would feel to have Harry watching him, those emerald eyes filled with lust. Draco was tall. Harry was taller. He was muscled and well defined. He certainly didn't have anything to be ashamed of. Draco walked back to his room smiling. He had known he was bisexual since the beginning of third year. It wasn't until quite recently that he had lost all attraction to women at all.
Lying down on his bed, he closed his eyes and imagined Harry as he was at that exact moment. Rivulets of water running down his chest, stomach.. Further down. Draco blushed as he pictured the pure manliness of Harry, and as he felt himself growing stiff. He heard Harry leave the bathroom and sighed. Harry hated him. He hated Harry, so why the fuck was he thinking this way about him?
Harry thumped down the stairs, wearing only khaki cargo pants. His chest was bare, his pants hung low; exposing that fact he wore nothing underneath. His hair was unruly and wet, sticking in bits to his forehead. He had long since had his eyes magically repaired, making glasses no longer an issue. He had turned into a very attractive man.
Harry sat down at the Table that was in the Common Room. He had brought down his Potions book and was about to start the 3-foot long essay Snape assigned on the dangers of love potions. He opened the first book and skimmed the page; the words all seemed to meld together, Potions was by far his worst subject. He would have failed it completely if it weren't for Hermione. But now she was gone too. His world was spiraling out of control and he was powerless to stop it.
Draco came back downstairs about an hour later. He sneered at Harry. "Not much more clothed I see Potter, but at least you've hidden the embarrassing parts." He snickered obnoxiously had his own joke.
"Don't you have somewhere; anywhere else you could go Malfoy? Perhaps the death eater's are having a meeting? I'm sure you're father knows, you could owl him. Why you are at it, be sure you complain lots about this current situation, maybe he can buy you a new life"
"Fuck off Harry" he snarled. 'Whoa' he thought to himself 'I called him Harry'
"I really don't remember giving you permission to call me Harry. So go the fuck away, I've got enough to worry about seeing as I'm already failing Potions."
"Potions?" Malfoy asked, suddenly curious. "The love potion essay?"
"Yes" Harry replied suspiciously "What of it?"
"Potions is my best subject. I could help you" 'what the fuck?? Did I just offer to HELP Potter?'
"Thanks, I'd rather fail 100 times over than have to spend one more unnecessary moment with you"
"Jesus Harry! You're going to bloody fail!?"
"Why should you care? Wouldn't you like seeing me fall again? And do NOT call me Harry."
'He has a point. Why do I care?' Draco mused. "I don't care, I'm just bored and I like potions. I also like challenges, and I'm assuming getting anything through your thick skull will be a challenge."
Harry was quiet for a moment; he knew Malfoy knew that he needed help. He would rather have anyone but Malfoy help him, but at the moment there was no one else. He really didn't want to take remedial Potions.
"Fine. Help me"
Draco sat down across from him, pulling the book Harry was reading towards himself. He scanned the page for only several seconds before he looked up. "No wonder it makes no sense. This isn't the right book." He stood up and hurried to the stairs, only to return moments later with a stack of books. Harry was shocked, to see Malfoy excited over anything, much less excited over helping Harry.
Draco set a book down in front of Harry. "Page 492. Love potions. That should be enough information for most of your essay. But you also have to talk about why love potions are illegal and why they were outlawed. Also you have to mention why they are so difficult to brew. Potter, listen." and he launched into an explanation about the complex brewing of the potion. After several minutes of explaining, he looked at Harry, "Does it make sense?"
Harry nodded, peculiarly, it did.
"Okay, when your done let me see it, I'll check it for you" and with that he was gone out the portrait hole.
Harry stared at his paper wondering what the hell had just happened. Had Malfoy just been nice? Ron wouldn't believe it. He stopped at that thought. Ron was gone from him. He had seen him and Hermione out on the grounds that day. Kissing. And more. They were both dead to him. He was completely and utterly alone in the wizarding world. His parents dead, Sirus dead, his two best friends dead. All he had was this stupid connection to Draco Malfoy that was promising to make his life miserable.
Draco walked back into the small common room around 3 in the morning. He was quite drunk, having spent the evening and early morning hours back in the Slytherin common room with Blaise and Pansy. He stumbled in, almost falling on his face. He held his alcohol quite well, but he had had an exceptional amount. In light of recent events, he figured it was okay.
He looked at Harry, who was asleep on his potions books at the table. He almost laughed out loud at how innocent Harry looked when he was asleep. Come to think of it... he did laugh. Draco walked over to Harry's sleeping body and stared innocently at him. His perfect pink lips were slightly parted and his hair was messy as expected, sticking in every direction. Each breath he took barely ruffled the papers spread around him. But Draco was mesmerized. He only stood there for a second before the alcohol caused him sway and to crumple by Harry's feet.
Harry awoke with a start, and almost looked quizzically at Draco who was laying at his feet giggling.
"I fell over Harry" Draco told him, in case Harry had missed the obvious.
"I can see that Malfoy. Fucking don't call me Harry." He studied Draco for a moment and then it dawned on him. "How much have you had to drink?"
"A teensy little bit" he replied, motioning with two fingers, to show the "small" amount he had had.
"Right. Okay." Harry sighed. It was late, or rather, early, and he didn't want to deal with this. He raked his hair out of his eyes and stood up. "Can you stand?"
"Of course" Draco proceeded to stand up, and then collapse onto Harry in a fit of giggles.
"Um. I guess not." Harry moved Draco off of him and guided him to the couch where he "helped" (read: pushed) him to lie down. Harry looked down at Draco and smirked in a very un-Harry like manner. When he turned to leave, Draco spoke.
"Wait."
"Bloody hell, what now?" Harry groaned, without turning around.
"Harry Potter." He paused for what he considered necessary dramatic effect; "you look hot when you sleep."
"Pardon?" Harry slowly turned around.
"Hot. Attractive."
"What the hell?" Harry exclaimed, frustrated for a reason he didn't understand. Draco looked up at him, his usually cold eyes were almost innocent and his face wasn't a stone wall.
He almost looked human. But then something that can only be described as panic flashed through his eyes, and the next moment he threw up all over himself the couch and the floor. Harry just watched, dumbstruck as Draco coughed and burped and got EVERYTHING out. Finally Draco ceased.
Harry just groaned again. "This is not happening," he muttered to himself mostly because Draco was just lying there now completely transfixed by the mess he had made. Harry shuddered as the smell of liquor and bile reached his nose.
"You fucking owe me Malfoy. I should leave you here to choke on your own stomach acid." He muttered a quick cleaning spell and flung a thick chenille throw blanket over Draco.
"Thank you," Draco whispered.
"Don't thank me. I already wish I left you crumpled on the floor by the table."
Draco grinned. Albeit it was a drunk smile and somewhat loopy, it was still a smile, and not a smirk. "Goodnight Boy-Who-Lived." And with that he passed out.
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