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Chapter Text

When Harry woke up, his head was pounding and his heart was racing, he thought he might vomit. He staggered over to the floo to firecall in to work.

Robards answered, “Junior Auror Potter, good morning.”

“Hello, sir,” he said before his stomach heaved and he had to turn away and take a few deep breaths to steady himself. “I need to call in sick, sir. I think I’ve got a virus.”

“What are your symptoms?” he asked curiously.

“Really bad headache, it feels like my eyes are going to pop out of my head; elevated pulse; and nausea.”

His brow furrowed, “Who was your training partner yesterday?”

“Malfoy, sir,” he said, his gut twisting uncomfortably.

“Where did you go?”

“Excuse me-” he broke off and held up a hand, turning away from the fireplace to try to get his bearings as his stomach tried to eject itself through his esophagus. After a moment he turned back, “We were sent to that old antique shop, sir,” he said as quickly as he could manage.

“You’re going to need to go to St. Mungo’s.”

“I don’t-”

“That’s not a request, Potter. Go there now and I’ll be sending Junior Auror Malfoy right along.”

“But-” Harry started.

“No buts, Malfoy called in with the same symptoms and I’m not taking any chances,” and without another word he ended their connection.

With a sigh and one more longing look at his bed, Harry headed to St. Mungos.

----------------------

They ended up putting Malfoy in the same room as him since they were there at the Ministry’s behest and with the same symptoms. Harry tried not to look at him, imagining that getting irritated would only worsen his ever growing headache. Malfoy must have felt the same because he was less annoying that usual.

Healer Kenner, a stern looking woman who reminded Harry very much of Professor McGonagall, ran diagnostic test after diagnostic test and then finally said, “Well, you’re bonded.”

“What?” Harry yelped.

Malfoy groaned, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Language, Auror Malfoy,” she tsked.

“Apologies.”

With a short nod, she continued, “The good news is that most of your discomfort can be alleviated by simple physical contact.”

“And the bad news?” Harry asked wryly.

“There’s nothing we can do to break the bond.”

“What?” Malfoy spat.

“Surely, there’s something-” Harry started.

She shook her head, “I’m afraid not. But it’s not permanent,” Healer Kenner added. “It’ll only last a month.”

“A month?!” Harry asked incredulously.

“Well it’s certainly better than forever,” Malfoy snarked, rubbing his hands over his face.

Harry wondered if Malfoy’s head hurt as much as his did. He certainly hoped so.

But before he could say anything, Healer Kenner raised her wand and cast a spell the dragged their beds across the floor to the other. “Hold hands,” she instructed.

He crossed his arms over his chest and Malfoy let out a pitiful groan.

“The sooner you do it, the sooner you’ll start to feel better,” she chided. “Just be glad that this particular bond only wants prolonged physical contact.”

Harry shuddered, he’d heard the stories about some of the more archaic bonds.

“Oh, for Circe’s sake,” Malfoy grumbled as he reached across the space between them and clasped Harry’s forearm in his hand.

A sense of relief hit immediately, Harry groaned as a weight lifted off his chest and the headache started receding.

“It will be faster if you both actively participate.”

At this point, as the waves of relief were rolling through him, Harry was willing to do anything. He flipped over his hand, offering it to Malfoy.

The other man slid his hand down Harry’s arm, as though he was afraid to break contact with him, and clasped Harry’s hand in his.

She was right, his world seemed to right itself as they sat there holding hands and he let his head drop back against the bed as he took full, deep breaths for what felt like the first time in ages.

“How long do we have before it starts to feel like that again?” Malfoy asked, which Harry could admit was a good question.

She hummed, “I’d say two hours maximum before the discomfort starts affecting the way you function.” After a short pause, Healer Kenner added, “You’re going to probably want to spend nights together.”

“Can’t we just see each other in the morning?” Malfoy asked.

And Harry couldn’t help but agree, “This wasn’t that bad,” he added. “And now that we know-”

She shook her head, “Now that your bodies are acknowledging the bond, the effects will set in quicker.”

“Great,” Harry grumbled. “Just bloody fantastic.”

This day just kept going from bad to worse. He had no idea how he was going to tell everyone that he had an accidental bonding with Draco sodding Malfoy.

—————-

They argued about whose house to stay in overnight and finally decided to flip a coin for it. Malfoy won.

And that was how Harry found himself standing with a duffel bag outside of a surprisingly cute little house, knocking and waiting to be let in.

“Potter,” Malfoy greeted as he opened the door to let him in.

And Harry wondered if he was feeling the bond tugging at his skin, too, if the bond was making his gut clench and making him feel irritable and like there was something crawling under his skin. “Can I-?” he started through gritted teeth, reaching a hand toward Malfoy but stopping a few inches away.

Malfoy nodded and closed the distance between them.

The moment he touched the other man his body sagged with relief, swaying back against the doorway.

After a moment, Malfoy released his hand and gestured toward the rest of his house, “Come in,” he said. “It’s nothing fancy,” Malfoy said, “But it’s home and it’s not something that my family owned.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to make of that statement, so he just focused on looking around the house as Malfoy gave him the tour. Malfoy was right, it wasn’t anything fancy but it was surprisingly cozy. It was nothing like Harry had expected; he’d imagined black leather and green decor, dark and broody. But the house was the opposite, the closest anything got to Slytherin green was the sea form green accents in the bathroom. “You have a nice house,” Harry said.

“You needn’t sound surprised,” Malfoy said with a sniff, “I have excellent taste,” he added as he opened the door to the bedroom.

The bedroom had pale blue walls and cream bedding, the dresser and wardrobe were both a dark wood that Harry couldn’t identify. All in all, it was a nice room, very relaxing.

“You can use this drawer,” Malfoy said, flicking his wand at the second drawer to open it, “And I cleared a space for you in the closet.”

“Err, thanks,” Harry said.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t mention it. I know it’s hard for you to believe but I can actually be considerate when the mood strikes.”

Before Harry could reply, Malfoy left the room, calling over his shoulder, “I’m making salmon and rice for dinner. If you don’t like it you can make something for yourself.”

This wasn’t quite what he’d expected, Malfoy wasn’t quite what he expected, he thought as he put his clothes away. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t who Harry thought he was.

————

Malfoy was precisely who Harry thought he was. The two of them had spent the entire night arguing about literally everything: about using coasters (when they were wizards and removing water stains was no big deal), about which clothes Harry should have hung or left folded, about the proper way to do the dishes, about their friends and the kind of people they were, and dozens of other things that made Harry want to tear his hair out.

They were still bickering when they went to bed because Malfoy had the nerve to critique the way Harry brushed his teeth and to demand that Harry wash his face before he get into bed.

“I’m not letting the oil in your skin damage my pillowcases!”

“My skin doesn’t damage pillowcases,” Harry snapped. “I have pillowcases too, you know, and none of them have oil stains.”

“Potter wash your fucking face or I am covering your pillow with a paper bag,” Malfoy threatened. “It’s not a fucking hard request. It will take you literally two minutes.”

“Fine!” Harry shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the bathroom.

When he came out, Malfoy was already on the left side of the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, reading a book. “Was that so hard?” he drawled.

“Oh fuck off,” Harry grumbled as took off his glasses and he threw himself down on the right side of the bed, punching a pillow for the sheer pleasure of punching something.

“You’re such a bloody neanderthal,” Malfoy grumbled without looking up at Harry.

“Shut up!” Harry finally erupted. “For Merlin’s sake just shut up and I will, too.”

Malfoy glanced over at him, looking unperturbed which honestly made Harry even more frustrated.

“It’s going to take me ages to fall asleep because I’m so fucking irritated.”

After a moment, Malfoy reached over and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s the bond,” he said quietly. “We’re not touching often enough and it’s making us lash out.”

“I don’t think we need any help in that department,” Harry grumbled but he could admit that he was feeling better already.

Malfoy chuckled, “You’re right about that, I suppose.”

He shook his head and reached up to cover Malfoy’s hand with his own and expedite the process. “This does help though,” he said with a yawn.

The other man hummed, “I think we should agree now that whenever either of us wakes up over night that we’ll reach out and touch the other so we can get as much sleep as possible.”

Through a yawn Harry murmured, “Sounds reasonable.” He closed his eyes, surprised at how tired he was feeling all of the sudden. “Merlin, I’m knackered.”

“Do you mind if I leave the light on to read for a while?” Malfoy asked.

He opened one eye to look at Malfoy’s blurry face, “That’s nice of you to ask,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you certain?”

He nodded. “Night.”

“Good night,” Malfoy replied, going back to his book but leaving his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry drifted off, asleep in minutes.

————

When Harry woke up again, the sun was peaking in through the curtains and he felt fantastic. He blinked open his eyes and realized that at some point during the night he and Malfoy had shifted, drifting until Harry’s front was pressed tight against Malfoy’s back, his body curled around the other man’s.

He really ought to move.

But he was just so comfortable and his body was warm and loose and he just couldn’t bring himself to move away.

It wasn’t long before Malfoy started to shift, waking up slowly and Harry panicked. He did the only thing that he could think of and feigned sleep.

Malfoy arched and stretched, pressing his body back against Harry’s for a long, delicious moment before he jumped, seeming to realize what he was doing. Then he held very still like he was waiting for something and Harry wondered if he was waiting for him to say something. When Harry didn’t move and continued pretending to be asleep, Malfoy carefully withdrew himself and climbed out of bed to head to the loo.

Harry laid there for a long moment, missing the warmth of the other man’s body, missing the way they’d seemed to fit together already.

Just the bond, he assured himself. This was all just the bond.

Right?

Chapter Text

By the end of the first week Harry very much needed a break from Draco Malfoy.

Robbards assigned them to one another as partners for the remainder of the time they were bonded and that meant that they spent what amounted to every moment of every day together. They worked together, went home together, and slept in the same bed together. And they fought every waking moment about nearly everything.

It hadn’t helped that all of the other Aurors were constantly taking the piss and Harry was ready to snap.

On Friday afternoon, while Malfoy was in the loo and Harry had a rare moment of privacy, he sent off a patronus to Ron and Hermione asking them to meet him for dinner at the Leaky. Ron’s terrier returned not long after, affirming that they’d be glad to meet him.

For the rest of the day, he kept that at the forefront of his mind, the proverbial carrot dangling in front of him as he fought to make it to the end of the work week.

After they arrived home, Harry changed his clothes and came into the living room where Malfoy was sitting on the sofa, then pressed his hand to Malfoy’s shoulder until the bond wasn’t humming in the back of his mind. “I’m going out,” he informed him as he removed his hand

“I don’t want to go out,” he replied immediately.

He nodded, “Good because I wasn’t inviting you with me anyway.”

“But the bond-”

“She said that we’d be okay for two hours. I’m just going to go have dinner with Ron and Hermione and then I’ll come back.”

Malfoy didn’t reply, which Harry might have imagined would be an improvement over the bickering but was actually really fucking annoying.

He took a deep breath and then let it out. It wasn’t worth it. “Whatever,” he grumbled to himself as he stepped back and apparated to the apparation point near the Leaky.

Ron and Hermione were already at the table near the fire when he arrived and Harry felt something unwind inside of him at the sight of his friends, it felt like coming home when you’d been away for too long.

“Hi,” he said as he approached the table.

Hermione stood up and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Thanks,” he murmured, hugging her back.

She nodded, “You looked like you could use it.”

A humorless chuckle left his throat, “You could say that,” he replied.

“Come on,” she said, tugging him over to the table.

“I can only stay for a few hours,” Harry said, sitting down across from Ron, “The bond-”

“Then let’s just have a few hours that feel normal and have nothing to do with Malfoy,” Ron said and Harry nodded gratefully.

———

Only an hour into their dinner, Harry started to feel the tug of the bond, a low thrumming through his gut that made him feel restless. He tried to ignore it and was doing fairly well by the sheer force of his stubbornness when a woman came up to them.

“You’re Harry Potter, right?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Yeah,” he replied, “that’s me.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said, reaching over and laying a hand on his forearm, scarlet fingernails trailing lightly over his skin.

Harry immediately felt queasy, every fiber of his being screaming that this was wrong. “Nice to meet you, too,” he said as politely as he could manage, pulling his arm out of her reach.

“Could I-”

“Sorry,” Ron interrupted, “But he’s a bit busy. We’re having dinner, in case you didn’t notice.”

She glanced at Ron, then looked back at Harry, “Maybe when you’re done,” she said, “You could join me for a drink at the bar.”

“Maybe another time,” Harry said, giving her his best smile which he feared turned out more like a grimace as his stomach rolled.

Fortunately she seemed to take the hint, “Well, it was nice to meet you,” she said before turning.

“You too,” Harry called. “I’ve got to go,” he said as soon as she was out of earshot.

“What?” Hermione asked, “Why?”

“I don’t know, something happened with the bond,” he muttered. “I feel awful.”

“Go on then,” Ron said, nodding at him. “We’ll see you later.

"Stop by the house tomorrow, if you’d like,” Hermione offered.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Sorry,” he added as he stood up and fled the bar, apparating straight into Malfoy’s house.

“Malfoy,” he shouted, the moment his feet touched the floor.

The other man groaned from where he was laying on the sofa in the living room, “What the actual fuck did you do?” he managed. “I was fine and then all of the sudden it felt like I was hit by a train.”

Harry made his way over to the sofa and since Malfoy didn’t seem like he was going to move he did the only thing his brain could come up with. He crawled on top of him, pressing their bodies together and moaning with relief. “Someone hit on me,” he said.

“Poor you,” Malfoy grumbled, even as one of his arms wrapped around Harry and pulled him in tighter.

“No, I mean that’s what caused the spike. She flirted with me and touched my arm and the bond went crazy.”

Malfoy hummed, “Interesting,” he said. “People have touched both of us and it hasn’t caused this.”

“Maybe the bond recognizes intent?” Harry questioned.

“Maybe it recognizes your intent,” Malfoy mused. “Was she attractive?”

Harry shrugged, “Maybe? I didn’t really notice.”

“Pfft,” Malfoy huffed, his breath warm and vaguely pleasant against Harry’s ear. “You don’t have to lie. I won’t be offended.”

“I’m serious,” Harry protested.

“Look, can we just be honest with each other?” he asked. “It’s fine if you thought she was attractive-”

“I’m gay!” Harry blurted, “I’m not lying, she might have been attractive but I genuinely didn’t notice.”

“You’re gay?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry replied, starting to pull away because the bond was still tugging but not unbearable, “Go ahead and start making fun of me, let’s just end this horrible wee-”

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” Malfoy said.

He looked down at the other man, too surprised to come up with words for a moment. “You’re not?”

“Well, it would be pretty hypocritical if I did,” he replied.

“You’re-?” Harry started.

Malfoy shrugged one shoulder and his fingers trailed mindlessly along Harry’s spine, “I’m bi,” he said.

“Oh.” Harry replied and he settled back against Malfoy, “I didn’t know.”

“You never asked.”

“Well neither did you,” he protested.

Malfoy looked at him for a long moment, “I didn’t know that I was allowed to.”

“Why would I be allowed to ask if you weren’t?”

He rolled his eyes, “Because you’re Harry Potter and you’ve always thought that the rules didn’t apply to you.”

“Come off it,” he said. “I live by the same rules everyone else does. If anything, I’m held to a higher standard.”

“You’re held to a higher standard? Potter, you have no idea what it means to be held to a high standard. I’m an ex-death eater, my every move is scrutinized,” Malfoy said. “When I started at the DMLE I was told that if I put ‘one toe out of line I’d be put in Azkaban faster than I could say Auror.’”

“Someone said that to you?” Harry asked incredulously.

He huffed a bitter laugh, “Multiple people said that to me. So tell me again about being held to a higher standard, Potter.”

“It’s different,” Harry admitted, “But when I do something wrong I get the lecture about how I’m an example for everyone else. The things that I do are a template for what other people will find acceptable. That sort of…stuff,” he finished lamely, trailing off uncomfortably.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Malfoy confessed.

“I’m just a person,” he said. “And I like to think that I learned to respect boundaries and don’t ask overly personal questions-”

“Sorry,” Malfoy said, stopping the words coming out of Harry’s mouth. “You’re right. You aren’t sixteen anymore.”

His initial instinct was to fight about who’d been worse at sixteen and the words were on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them back, “You’re not sixteen anymore either.”

The corner of Malfoy’s mouth tipped up and they just looked at each other for a long moment before the other man said, “Alright, that’s quite enough soul searching. Get off me, Potter. I want to finish my book before bed.”

Harry chuckled and climbed off the couch, “I’m going to shower.”

“Yes, thank you for the update,” Malfoy drawled. “I’ll be sure to alert the press.”

“Prat,” Harry grumbled but it didn’t hold the venom that it normally did. He couldn’t help but wonder if his improved mood was because of the time he’d spent with his friends or because of the conversation he’d just had with Malfoy.

Chapter Text

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Jenkins snarled from across the room at the end of the training exercise, drawing Harry’s attention from the conversation he was having with Ron. “You are such an arsehole. You think you’re so clever, so much better than us,” he spat as he shoved Malfoy’s shoulders, “but you’re just a slimy Dark Lord worshiper-”

“Oy!” Harry shouted, darting forward and physically putting his body between Jenkins and Malfoy, “Don’t talk to him like that.”

“I’ll talk to that fu-”

“You need to back down,” Harry growled, his body thrumming with energy, fingers tingling with the urge to punch Jenkins in the face, his magic racing hot and bright under his skin.

Malfoy put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “Don’t,” he said. “He’s not worth it.”

He glared at Jenkins for a moment before taking a step toward the locker room.

“Oh, I get it,” Jenkins sneered, “some people are so possessive of their pets. He’s letting you fuck him now, so-”

Harry spun around so fast that Jenkins didn’t have a moment to see what was about to happen as Harry’s fist connected with his jaw. “Watch your mouth,” he growled, low in his throat. “We aren’t sleeping together but even if we were that wouldn’t change the fact that he is twice the auror you will ever be.” He took another step closer, “He’s smarter, faster, and has better instincts. And everyone knows that your pathetic attempts to belittle him are out of jealousy. So you can fuck off before you make an even bigger arse of yourself.”

“Alright,” Ron said, holding out his hands between them. “That’s enough.”

Jenkins spat blood at Harry’s feet but had the good sense not to say anything more as he left and slammed the door behind him.

Harry turned to see Malfoy storming away from him. “Malfoy,” he shouted but the other man threw him a two fingered salute and stalked off.

“What the hell?” Harry grumbled.

Ron shrugged, “Beats me, mate.” He slapped him on the shoulder, “but I wouldn’t want to be going home with him. He looked pissed.”

————-

Regrettably Ron was right, Malfoy was pissed. Harry couldn’t understand it and the other man wouldn’t say a word to him about it.

They went home and Malfoy shut himself in the bedroom without a word, leaving Harry standing completely confused in the living room. “What the hell?” he repeated.

Hands on his hips, he stared off after the other man and replayed what he’d said to Jenkins for the fiftieth time, trying to figure out what had made Malfoy so mad.

Giving up on trying to puzzle it out seemed like the only course of action so he headed into the kitchen and started dinner. In the past week and a half, Draco had cooked, they’d cooked together, or ordered take out. Harry hadn’t cooked anything on his own since he’d arrived and honestly, he was glad for the chance to cook now.

He chopped up an onion, diced a carrot, chopped up a stalk of celery, and minced several cloves of garlic. Then he turned to the stove and heated a frying pan, pouring in some olive oil before tossing in the veggies and letting them cook down while he chopped up lettuce for a salad.

After about ten minutes, he added the ground beef, salt, and pepper into the frying pan and uncorked a bottle of Merlot, pouring himself a generous glass and dumping a few ounces in with the beef and veg.

He cast a simple spell to keep the spoon stirring while the beef browned and he turned to cut up tomatoes and onions for the salad and made a simple vinaigrette. When the beef was brown and fragrant, he added in tomato paste, diced tomatoes, basil, oregano, and a dash of nutmeg before stirring it all together.

With a pleased hum, he put the lid on the pot and cast a spell that would condense the simmering time to about thirty minutes instead of three hours.

While the sauce cooked down he baked brownies, tossed the salad, and prepped the water and spaghetti. Boiling the spaghetti, cutting the brownies, and plating everything was easy after that. Harry topped the bowls of bolongese with freshly grated Parmesan and basil.

Then, after a moment of debate, he decided to bring dinner to Malfoy instead of the other way around and laid out their salads, bowls of bolognese, glasses of wine, and brownies onto a tray. He levitated it down the hall and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Malfoy called, sounding bored and detached and Harry had to take a steadying breath to tamp down the irritation that tone of voice invoked before opening the door.

“Made dinner,” he said casually.

Malfoy turned his head from where he was laying on the bed, idly catching a snitch and releasing it. He sat up, his blonde hair trailing behind him, “It smells good.”

“You don’t need to sound surprised,” Harry teased.

Malfoy opened his mouth to protest but Harry continued as he set the tray in the middle of the bed.

“I’m just kidding,” he assured quickly.

“Do you really think that it’s wise to consume red wine and pasta on a white bed?” Malfoy asked, one eyebrow arched at him as he climbed onto the bed across the tray from Malfoy.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry assured as he picked up his salad bowl and speared a tomato. “We’re wizards, we’ll magic it away if we must.”

Malfoy hummed but picked up his own salad. “Thank you.”

He shrugged a shoulder, “No problem. I like to cook, actually.”

“Do you?” Malfoy asked curiously.

Harry nodded, “Yeah. Once we left Hogwarts and I was living on my own, I was eating out all the time and it wasn’t doing me any favors. So I learned how to make some simple things that taste good.” He tilted his head, “What about you? You’re not a bad cook.”

His cheeks turned a light pink and he cleared his throat, “That’s Granger’s doing actually.”

“Sorry?”

He sighed, “She made a really good case about house elves. I didn’t want to be who my parents wanted me to be so when I moved out and joined the aurors, I basically shunned anything that whiffs of pureblood bullshit. It has no place here,” he said gesturing to his home with his fork.

Harry blinked, “That’s amazing.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m serious,” Harry said. “You’re amazing and I had no idea.”

“Stop,” Malfoy said. “Please, it’s not-”

“Is that what earlier was about?”

Malfoy stilled, “Excuse me?”

“Is that why you were upset?” he asked. “You thought that I was taking the piss?”

“I thought that you have an insufferable hero complex that makes me want to vomit,” he growled.

“You’re a hedgehog,” Harry said, finally understanding.

Malfoy froze, “Who told you that?”

“Told me what?” Harry asked.

“That my patronus is a hedgehog,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry laughed and Malfoy flushed cherry red, his eyes narrowed. “No, sorry,” Harry said holding out a hand, “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because I had no idea, honestly!”

“Then what made you say it?” he asked suspiciously.

“Just,” he paused and took a bite of bolognese as he searched for the right words, “When you start to feel vulnerable or like someone is going to hurt you, you curl into this defensive ball that will stab at someone no matter what they say or do.”

“I-”

“You are genuinely one of the best aurors in our class,” Harry said earnestly, steering the conversation to something more tangible that they were less like to fight over. “I was serious.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, “You’re just saying that because the bond-”

He shook his head, “I’ve always thought that,” he protested. “It’s annoying as fuck because it always seems like everything comes so easily to you. I used to complain about it to Ron all the time.”

“Says you,” Malfoy protested. “You’re always doing everything right; throwing yourself into danger to protect people.” He shook his head, “By all accounts, what you do shouldn’t work but it does. You’re a good auror, Potter.”

Harry swallowed, “Thanks, Malfoy. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Yes, well,” he said as he took a sip of wine, “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Harry chuckled and they took a few bites in companionable silence before Draco started to talk again.

“You didn’t have to come to my rescue with Jenkins, you know.”

He waved the thought away, “He’s an arse. We’ve had it out before.”

“I’m just saying,” he argued, “I was fine. Honestly what he was saying wasn’t even that bad.”

“Not that bad?!” Harry yelped. “He-”

Malfoy shook his head, “It’s the bond, Potter, don’t you see that? Jenkins has said a lot worse, other trainees have said a lot worse, and you’ve never felt the need to jump in and defend my honor before.”

Harry frowned.

“You’re being swayed by what the bond wants you to feel about me.”

“I’m not sure you’re right,” he said. “Because you shouldn’t be treated like that at work. No one should be treated like that.”

“Be that as it may-”

“I’m just saying, even if the bond brought it to my attention, I would have done that for anyone. If he’d been saying shite like that to Ron, I would have decked him, too.”

Malfoy looked like he was going to argue with him, before visibly changing his mind, “You do have a wand, you know. There’s no need to resort to brute force.”

Harry shrugged, “But there’s just something so satisfying about punching someone.”

A laughed forced it’s way up Malfoy’s throat and Harry grinned at him. Shaking his head, Malfoy replied, “You’re ridiculous. And this is good, by the way,” he added, pointing to his pasta with his fork.

“Good,” Harry said with a pleased little smile.

The conversation turned lighter as they bickered about the training exercises and the best approach, but the bickering held none of the animosity it had a week and a half before.

And Harry couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was the bond’s doing and how much was simply him.

Chapter Text

“Come on,” Harry begged, the following Friday. “Please come to dinner.” The bond had only seemed to strengthen in the past eighteen days and Harry found his mind turning to thoughts of Draco almost constantly whether they were together or apart.

And touching the other man was almost second nature at this point. They spent all day every day touching the other without thinking; they sat with their ankles pressed together under their desks, hands brushed against shoulders and backs as they walked past each other, they frequently held hands without even talking about it first, and Harry couldn’t remember the last time that he’d woken up without being wrapped around Draco’s body or vice versa. Yes, the bond wasn’t showing any signs of weakening.

“Your friends hate me, Potter,” Draco reminded him as he pulled a wine glass down out of the cupboard.

Harry sighed, “But they wouldn’t if they got to know you.”

Draco leveled him with a glare, the kind that Harry had learned to recognize as a shield of sorts that the other man used when he was feeling insecure. “They have good reason to hate me,” he said as he filled the glass.

“Not anymore,” he protested.

The other man rolled his eyes and took a large swallow of his wine.

“Come on,” he said again. “If you’re there no one will flirt with me.”

Draco face twisted in disgust, it was unpleasant for both of them if someone touched one of them with certain intentions.

“If they’re rude, you can leave right away,” he added.

“What’s in it for me?” Draco asked.

He thought for a moment, “A foot rub,” he offered, remembering the night that Draco had drunkenly been complaining that his feet hurt and Harry had drunkenly offered a foot rub. There’d been something immensely satisfying about it, he assumed it was something to do with the bond and not with the look of rapturous delight on Draco’s face.

Draco’s eyes narrowed, “And I can leave immediately if they’re unkind.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll give me a long foot massage?”

He laughed, “Yes.”

“Fine.”

Harry grinned at him. “Excellent. Let’s go then, they’re meeting us at The Night Owl.”

“How did you know I’d say yes?” he asked, looking affronted.

“I didn’t,” Harry lied, even he’d had a strong suspicion he could convince the other man. “They could eat there without us if you didn’t want to go.”

He didn’t seem entirely convinced but he allowed Harry to take his elbow and he apparated them to the apparition point closest to The Night Owl.

Ron and Hermione were already sitting at a booth when they arrived, and Harry slid his fingers through Draco’s as he headed over. “Hey,” he greeted brightly.

His best friends both looked up, smiling at Harry before doing a double take when they saw Draco standing there beside him.

“Malfoy,” Hermione said, eyebrows lifting. “What a surprise!” she said, glancing at Harry.

He could feel Draco’s nervousness like it was a tangible thing. “Yeah,” Harry said, widening his eyes meaningfully at her, “I told you he might be coming.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, “But we didn’t think he actually would.”

“Well,” Draco said, detaching his hand from Harry’s, “This has been fun but I’m going to-”

“No,” Harry said, turning toward him and grabbing his hand again, “It’s fine,” he said, glaring at his friends, whom he had told to be on their best behavior and to just give the other man a chance.

“Yes,” Hermione piped up. “Stay, please. We were just surprised.”

Draco looked at Harry for a long moment, obviously arguing with himself before nodding once and sliding into the booth.

Harry slid in next to him, the first (and hopefully largest) hurdle out of the way.

——————

Dinner went surprisingly well. Hermione and Ron obviously struggled a bit but Harry had asked them to give him a chance and they seemed to be trying.

Everyone seemed to relax a bit once they’d had a few drinks and when Draco got up to use the loo, Harry turned to his friends, “So?” he said eagerly, “He’s different, right?”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other before Hermione said carefully, “I think it’s too soon for me to tell.”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron agreed, “I know you’ve always had that thing for Malfoy but,” he shrugged, “it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s an act.”

“You do know that he like cut ties from his parents, right?” Harry asked incredulously, “he believes that all of that pureblood nonsense is garbage.”

“Does he though?” Hermione asked, “Or is that just what it behooves him to have you believe?”

“He lives in a tiny flat!” he protested. “He said that he was so compelled by your arguments about house elves that he couldn’t bring himself to have one for his flat.”

“Are you sure?” Ron asked, “Or does he just hide it from you? House elves are wicked good at magic.”

“He knows how to cook,” Harry said, “From scratch. And he knows cleaning spells,” he added. “Why would he have to know cleaning spells?”

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, “Maybe you’re right-”

“Just give him a chance,” he said. “You won’t-”

“Better talk about something else,” Ron interrupted, “He’s headed this way.”

“Well, I tried to get Lugnok to speak with me about the discrimination that Goblins have been facing for ages in the wizarding community, but he wasn’t very forthcoming,” Hermione started as Draco slid into the booth once again.

“Oh,” Draco said as he pressed his shoulder against Harry’s and they both relaxed into the pleasant hum thrumming through the bodies, beginning at their shoulders and radiating outward. “I read the last article that you published in The Daily Dilemma,” he said excitedly. “It was fascinating,” he added.

“Really?” Hermione asked, sounding surprised.

He nodded, “I always wanted to learn more about Goblin magic but good information is so hard to find. When I was young, I’d hoped that it was something they’d teach at Hogwarts-”

“Yes!” Hermione agreed emphatically. “I have been trying to convince Minerva of that for years.”

“We don’t know nearly enough about magic that other beings possess and honestly,” he said, lowering his voice slightly, “I don’t know why any other magical being puts up with us. I can’t understand it.” He shook his head, “I mean for all intents and purposes, their magic is stronger than ours and they’ve got better control of it. A house elf, for example,” he said, “when they want to apparate somewhere it’s just a snap of the fingers. And their blind apparation is loads better than ours,” he shook his head, “And that’s just one spell.”

Hermione nodded, “It’s never made sense to me.”

Draco swallowed, “I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he said, not quite meeting her eye, “for making fun of your organization.” Then his mouth twisted, “For a lot of things, really,” he continued. “Many that were worse than that.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said after a moment. “I appreciate your apology.”

He nodded once. “You probably know this already, but Henri Laurence is a real advocate for changing the way we treat other magical beings. He could probably help your causes.”

“Who?” she asked, brows furrowing as she tried to place the name.

“Henri Laurence,” he repeated.

She shook her head, “I’m not familiar with that name.”

“He works in transportation,” Draco replied.

“Why would I talk to someone in transportation?”

He gave her a wry smile, “Henri works closely with a lot of department heads to schedule their trips. He’s very amiable and everyone loves him,” he added. “More than one political career has risen and fallen by his words. He also works with the Minister quite a bit, the Minister is quite fond of him.”

“I never would have thought to start there. Thanks for the tip,” she said, giving him a cautious half smile.

“Of course,” Draco said automatically. “I’d be glad to give you names if you’re ever wondering the best way to get things into people’s ears. I’m afraid I can’t do introductions, though,” he said with a self depreciating laugh.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, sounding genuinely grateful. “That would be so helpful.”

Draco gave her a little smile and Harry felt hope bubbling merrily in his chest.

———-

As the evening drew to a natural close, Harry couldn’t help but think that everything went exceptionally well.

Draco was still talking about Hermione’s current project with the Goblins at Gringotts as Harry headed back toward the bedroom, Draco trailing along behind him. “It’s invaluable,” he said as he started to strip so he could put on his pajamas. “This research could change the way that we think about other beings. We could really have the opportunity to understand them better and then maybe we’d understand our own magic and our own limitations better.”

Harry nodded, “You sound just like her. I thought you two might hit it off.”

“Did you?” Draco asked curiously as he crawled into bed.

He nodded, sitting at the bottom and pulling Draco’s left foot into his lap, pressing his thumbs up the curve of Draco’s arch. “You’re the only other person I know who likes to talk about Magic Theory.”

He let out a low moan as Harry’s thumbs rubbed the ball of his foot, “Potter, you are really good at that,” he said, thoroughly distracted from the conversation they’d been having.

Harry laughed.

“I’m serious!” the other man protested. “If the whole saving the world, one idiot at a time thing fails, you can go into foot massages.”

Chuckling, he shook his head, “Can you imagine?”

“Yes,” Draco replied, closing his eyes and settling further into the mattress, “I’d come see you every day.”

“Ah, in that case,” Harry teased, “maybe I should think about it.”

“You do that,” he said, in that distant voice that meant he wasn’t listening to him anymore.

“Read something,” Harry said.

The other man opened one eye to look down at Harry, “What?”

“Read me something,” he said. “Grab a book off your nightstand,” he said, nodding to the pile, “And read. But don’t pick something boring.”

Draco reached over and plucked a slender book off the night stand, “I think you’ll like this one. He gets everything wrong but it’s delightful.” He cleared his throat, “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…”

Harry listened as he read, a smile tugging at his lips, his chest filling with warmth.

This was nice, Harry couldn’t help but think. Living with someone, sharing meals with someone, having someone in your bed when you went to sleep and when you woke up. It was nice to have the sound of someone else’s voice and the feeling of someone else’s hand in yours.

He wondered if he’d miss it when the bond ended in twelve days.

More importantly, he wondered if Draco would miss it.

Chapter Text

Harry really liked the chasing down criminals part of his job.

Blood pumping through his veins, adrenaline surging; he loved the way it felt to get to do the action part of his job. He and Draco were assigned to be part of a team that was raiding an illegal potions ring and the criminals were not giving up easily.

Spells flew through the air, sizzling and sparking, and Harry found himself locked in a duel with one man in particular, sending spells zipping back and forth, blocking and parrying. He was so focused on taking this guy down that he lost track of everything else for a moment.

It was a foolish mistake and he only realized exactly how foolish when Draco shouted, “Potter! Look out!”

His awareness came online just as Draco barreled into him, knocking him out of the way of a stunner coming from the man he’d been dueling and a man who’d been sneaking behind him.

As he caught his balance, he saw Draco absorb the impact of the spells and crumple to the ground.

His vision went white around the edges as panic clawed at his throat. “Stupefy!” he roared, aiming first at the man he’d been dueling who immediately fell to the ground, then following it up with a second, “Stupefy,” shot at the man who’d been coming up behind him.

The second man’s shield shattered when Harry’s spell hit it and he was knocked out cold, too.

“Draco,” Harry said, kneeling next to him and casting a shield charm around them. He rolled the other man onto his side, finding him completely unconscious. “Anderson!” he shouted to the Auror who was closest to them as she disarmed her opponent. “I’ve got to get him out of here.”

She nodded, “There’s only a few more anyway.”

Harry lifted Draco into his arms and apparated straight to St. Mungo’s.

He staggered as he landed, he’d never been the best at apparation and the added weight of Draco’s limp body didn’t help. “Help,” he said, tripping toward the desk.

“You’re Harry Potter,” the witch on duty said.

“Yes,” he replied. “And this is my partner and he needs help.”

A handful of healers had been attracted by the raucous by this point and Draco was quickly lifted from his arms and taken into a room as Harry followed, explaining what happened.

“I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside,” one of the healers said once he’d finished telling them about the stunners he’d been hit with and then she closed the door without giving him a chance to reply.

He collapsed into the chair across from the room, his heart beating too fast and his pulse loud in his ears. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. He wasn’t a child; people weren’t supposed to get hurt for him anymore.

His chest felt too tight and he couldn’t seem to draw a deep enough breath; it felt like an eternity before the door opened and three of the healers emerged. “He’s going to be fine,” the first said.

“He’ll be sore for a few days,” the second woman added.

“But he’ll make a full recovery,” the last said.

Harry nodded, “Can I see him?” he rasped.

The fourth healer emerged, “He’s been asking for you,” she replied. “He’s quite keen to see you, too.”

He rose quickly and entered Draco’s room without another thought for the healers that had just saved the other man’s life.

“Hey,” Draco murmured, voice sounding a bit hoarse. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” Harry repeated as he took Draco’s hand in his, letting the bond sooth his frayed nerves, “You’re the one who got hit by two stunners. You utter idiot.”

“Well, I couldn’t let our precious savior get hit.” And Harry knew he was teasing but it sparked something irrational inside of him.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Godric, Draco, that was terrifying. You can’t do that for me.”

“As if you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing,” Draco huffed.

He shook his head, “It’s different.”

“It’s really not,” the other man replied.

“I can’t have people I love getting hurt and dying for me, Draco,” he hissed. “I can’t-”

“Potter,” Draco said firmly, “Get a hold of yourself. This is the bond talking. Don’t you see that?”

“It’s not!” he protested.

Shaking his head he replied, “It is. You just said that I was a person you love. You don’t love me.”

Harry blinked, he supposed he had said that, “I mean as a friend, obviously,” he said. “Like I love Ron or Hermione,” he shrugged, “Or Neville or Luna or-”

“Yes, I don’t really need to listen to the whole list,” Draco said, cutting him off. “But the point stands that you don’t really love me. Potter, I know it’s hard but you have to try to separate whatever the bond is pushing on you from what you actually feel.”

“What if I actually feel that?” he asked, because it was a thought he'd had more and more often lately. 

“You don’t.”

He scowled at the other man, “You’re so fucking irritating.”

“Better,” he replied, relaxing back against the pillows. “The head healer will be in to clear me soon. You can stay if you want or you can go pick up dinner for us and meet me at home,” he added hopefully.

“Fine,” he replied, not really able to deny the other man anything at this point. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Curry,” Draco said immediately, obviously already imagining that Harry would say yes.

He nodded and gave Draco’s hand one more squeeze, “I’ll see you at home. Shoot me a patronus if you need anything else, yeah?”

Draco nodded through a yawn.

And it was only as Harry was walking out that he realized he’d referred to Draco’s house as home and really felt that way about it.

He couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was the bond and how much was just him. The line was getting blurrier by the day.

Chapter Text

This was the last day that Harry was going to be bonded to Draco.

That thought should have made him feel relieved or overjoyed; it should have made him feel like he was regaining his freedom.

But it didn’t. It made him feel like shit, actually. He spent the entire day moping, feeling overly sensitive, and like he was about to lose something important.

“So, how are you feeling?” he asked Draco over dinner that evening, his knee pressed against Draco’s under the table.

“Fine,” he said, brow furrowed. “How are you feeling?”

He laughed, “I meant about the bond ending tomorrow,” he said casually.

Draco shrugged one elegant shoulder, “Fine.”

“Sure,” Harry said, ignoring the way the knife that had been stabbing him in the gut all day twisted harder. “Right. Good.”

“Potter,” Draco said, “It’s-”

“Just the bond,” Harry finished. “I know.” He stood up from the table, “I’m not hungry,” he said, vanishing the food off his plate and sending the plate to the sink.

Draco didn’t try to stop him as he fled the kitchen, making his way to the bedroom and crawling under the covers. It smelled right in here; he let the combination of sandalwood shampoo, a light peppermint scent from Draco’s face cream, and the hint of coffee from Draco drinking it in bed while he read the paper, wash over him. Breathing it in and trying not to let the thought that this was the last time he’d have this ruin the calming effect.

After a few minutes the door opened but Harry didn’t roll over to look at the other man.

The mattress dipped behind him and Draco’s arms wrapped around him, drawing him back into his embrace. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into Harry’s ear and Harry’s arm hair stood on end. “I didn’t mean to trivialize what you’re experiencing. I thought it would make you feel better, knowing that it’s not really you,” he added.

“S'fine,” Harry muttered but it sounded petulant, even to his own ears.

Draco huffed a laugh, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Potter, but you’re a terrible actor.” And just once, Harry wished that Draco would call him by his name.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll miss this?” Harry asked, choosing not to dwell on his desire to hear Draco’s mouth form his given name.

“Miss what?”

He sighed irritably, “Just,” he shrugged awkwardly, “Having someone to hold you. Having someone to keep the other side of the bed warm.”

“There’s this thing called a boyfriend,” Draco drawled, “Perhaps you’ve heard of the concept.”

“Oh piss off,” he snapped. “It’s not that easy.”

Draco shifted and Harry could tell without looking at him that he was rolling his eyes. “You’re the savior of the world, Potter. Literally anyone would be honored to cuddle you.”

“But that’s the problem isn’t it?” he asked.

There was a short pause before Draco said, “What is?”

“If literally anyone would cuddle me how can I know that they genuinely like me?”

“And you think that my cuddles mean that I genuinely like you?” the other man asked.

The knife in his gut plunged deeper. “No,” he said, forcing his voice to stay level. “But I know where you stand. You’ve never pretended to like me.”

Draco was silent for a few moments, which Harry recognized was something that he only did when he was comfortable. When Draco didn’t feel safe he’d rattle off anything that popped into his head to avoid people thinking he was slow or dimwitted. Something idiotic warmed inside of him at the thought that Draco felt safe enough with him to think things through before answering.

Harry was in so much trouble.

“It may surprise you to know,” Draco said finally, oblivious to the turmoil roiling in Harry’s mind, “that I don’t hate you.”

Harry’s breath caught, which was ridiculous really, it was hardly a declaration of anything more than basic human decency at this point.

Still.

He pressed back against the hard planes of the other man’s body, memorizing the way it felt when their bodies were in line, “I don’t hate you either.”

Draco’s exhale ruffled the curls at the base of Harry’s neck and Harry was filled with a longing so fierce that he couldn’t breathe. “What do you want to do tonight?” Draco asked.

“This,” he answered before he could think better of it. His heart hammered so loudly in his ears that he wondered if Draco could hear it, too.

“Alright,” Draco said and all of the thoughts spinning wildly in Harry’s head ground to a sudden halt. “Roll over,” he instructed and Harry was too shocked to do anything other than what Draco had asked.

Draco collapsed onto his back and reached for a book on the nightstand and Harry just watched.

“Well, come here,” he said with an impatient huff, holding out his arm so Harry could press against his side.

He moved so that his cheek was resting on Draco’s shoulder and Draco wrapped his arm around Harry, his fingers trailing lightly over his tricep.

“This is what comes next after The Hobbit,” he said, opening the paperback novel with his other hand. “I think you’ll like this one even more,” he added.

Harry nodded and draped his arm across Draco’s stomach.

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would be celebrating his eleventy first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton,” Draco began, voice low and soothing.

And Harry closed his eyes and let himself drift in the sound of Draco’s voice, trying to store up every sensation he could before the rest of his life began.

————

When Harry woke up in the morning, the bed was empty. He laid there for a moment, trying to sort out his feelings and thoughts. Everything felt too quiet and he didn’t like how alone he felt.

He shook his head, pushing away the thoughts and the feelings; it had just been the bond, he reminded himself (even though the voice saying it in his head sounded suspiciously like Draco’s).

Harry used the loo and then packed his things and Draco was nowhere to be found, probably out enjoying his freedom, Harry thought bitterly.

“Get it together,” he grumbled at himself as he scooped up the duffel bag with all of his shrunken clothes off the floor.

As he was walking out of the bedroom the front door opened and Draco came through dressed in running shorts and a tank top, his hair damp with sweat, face pink with exertion. “Hey,” he said breathlessly when he caught sight of Harry.

“Morning,” Harry said once he got his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth.

“Figured that I’d start the morning off with a run since it wouldn’t cause either of us pain,” he said with a little smile as he headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

He followed behind him, very pointedly not looking at his arse in his shorts, “You could have-” he started before trying again, “I wouldn’t have-” he broke off and shook his head, “I would have gone running with you,” he finally managed.

Draco turned to look at him, “Oh,” he said, brow furrowed. “I never thought to ask.”

“Sure,” Harry said, nodding, “Right, well I’ll just-” he started.

“Do you want some breakfast?” Draco asked at the same time as he opened the refrigerator. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “What was that?”

“I was just going to say I’d get out of your hair,” Harry said.

Draco looked around the refrigerator door at Harry, “Did you want to stay for breakfast?”

“I couldn’t impose,” Harry said quickly even though he would like nothing better. Well, perhaps there were things he’d like better than breakfast but those definitely didn’t bear thinking about.

The other man tilted his head at him, “It’s no imposition. I’m making breakfast for myself regardless.”

“That’s okay,” Harry said, backing toward the door, “I should get my stuff unpacked before-”

“Right,” Draco said, nodding hastily. “Right, yes. Of course.”

“Right,” Harry repeated like an idiot. “Well. I’ll see you at work, I guess.”

“Yes,” Draco replied, burying himself in the refrigerator.

He nodded, “Okay.” Harry turned and made his way to the door, before he turned the handle he called, “Draco?”

“Yes?” Was there a note of hope in the word or was it just Harry’s wishful thinking?

“How are you, um,” he paused, “feeling?”

“Fine,” Draco said, looking at Harry in confusion.

“Right. Good,” Harry replied. “Not having any side effects from the curse?”

The other man shook his head, “No. I feel the same way I felt before the bond. Why? Are you?”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “Nope. Just checking.” He opened the door, “Bye then,” he said before he stepped through and closed the door behind him.

He stood on the step for a moment and tried to tamp down all of the thoughts and feelings swirling inside of his chest. With one last look at Draco’s home, he apparated back to his own but he couldn’t help but wonder why he still ached for the other man if the bond was gone.

Chapter Text

The whole entire day had sucked.

Harry sat in the corner of the muggle pub he’d wandered into (because it was close to Draco’s house and they’d come here for drinks and dinner once and Harry had made him laugh so hard he’d snorted) nursing a scotch (because that’s what Draco drank and it made him think of books and coziness) and he wished.

Merlin he wished that he was with Draco right now instead of sitting all alone in this stupid pub.

He glanced up when he heard the tingle of the bells above the door and watched in shock as his two best friends walked in. Harry blinked in surprise, sitting up straighter. “What?” he managed when they clapped eyes on him and made a beeline for his table. “What are you doing here?”

“Like we would be anywhere else when you are obliviously having an emotional breakdown,” Hermione replied as she draped her coat over the back of her chair and sat down next to Harry.

Ron slid into the seat across from him, “You really weren’t yourself at training today,” he added apologetically.

“But how did you find me?” he asked.

Hermione held out her mobile, “You left your ‘find my friend’ active, so I tracked you.”

“I didn’t even know that was something people could do.”

She nodded, “You learn something new every day,” she replied flippantly. “Now tell us. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, probably too quickly.

Definitely too quickly if Hermione’s expression was anything to go by. “You’re drinking scotch,” she said, as though that was damning evidence.

“And?” he asked petulantly.

Ron cleared his throat, “Just, we’re here for you, mate,” he said. “If there’s something you wanted to talk about. We’re not going to judge you.” He reached across the table and patted Harry on the shoulder, “We just want you to know we love you.”

“Okay,” Hermione said, “Yes, that, but,” she added, “We also want to know what the bloody hell is going on with you and Malfoy.”

“Hermione wants to know,” Ron said, narrowing his eyes at her, “I’d be glad not to know. If you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ronald-”

Harry laughed, he couldn’t help himself, and his best friends both looked at him apologetically.

Ron said, “You know you can tell us anything, right?”

“I think I might be in love with Draco Malfoy.”

Ron sighed, “I was afraid you were going to say that. I’m going to order a drink and then you can tell us all about it.”

———-

Harry spent the next hour talking about Draco, going through the way things had started, to how things had developed, to the way they ended that morning.

“Are you sure he doesn’t feel the same way?” Hermione asked.

He nodded miserably, “He told me this morning that he felt the same as he did before the bond.”

“He could have been lying,” Ron offered.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, “I’ve gotten pretty good at detecting when he’s not being truthful.”

“And you’ve been checked to make sure there are no traces of the bond left?”

“Yeah. I went to St. Mungo’s after work. Apparently I should have been feeling the affects of the bond lessen for the past week or so,” he added bitterly. “She ran a thousand diagnostic spells and there’s nothing detectable.”

“Do you think-” Hermione broke off and bit her lip.

“What?”

She tucked a curl behind her ear, “Do you think it’s possible that he liked you before the bond?”

“What? No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Right but hear me out,” she said, “why would he have asked you to stay for breakfast if he hated you?”

“He didn’t say he hated me, he said-”

“That he felt the same as before the bond,” she finished.

Ron nodded, “She makes a good point, mate.”

“That’s impossible! He was just as upset about the bond in the beginning as I was,” he protested.

“But was he upset for the same reasons?” she asked.

He sucked his lower lip into his mouth.

“And he did seem pretty…” Ron trailed off.

“Besotted?” Hermione offered and Ron nodded.

“When you brought him with you those times to dinner with us,” he finished.

Harry frowned, “No he didn’t.”

“No offense, mate, but you couldn’t see how he was looking at you,” Ron said.

“Ron’s right,” Hermione said, “For all we know he’s liked you all along.”

“For all we know,” Harry argued, “he has hated my guts and that hasn’t changed.” He shook his head, this wasn’t helping, “Let’s talk about something else,” he said.

Mercifully, his friends dropped it and Hermione started to talk about her day and the law she was trying to push through.

But when they were getting ready to leave Hermione said, “Don’t you think you should say something to him?”

“What?” he asked incredulously. “No, I do not think I should say something to him. Are you insane?”

“But the worst case scenario is that he confirms that he hates you, isn’t that better than not knowing?” she asked.

He didn’t know how to answer her, so he just settled for letting himself be pulled into a hug instead.

“Just think about it,” she whispered in his ear and he nodded.

“Come to the burrow for dinner on Sunday,” Ron added, giving him a hug, too. “Mum’s been missing her favorite son,” he added with a wink.

They left the pub and headed toward a little back ally to apparate home. Ron and Hermione went first, and then Harry went; closing his eyes and turning before he was sucked through time and space.

But when he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t at his house; he was standing at Draco’s front door. He blinked and then Hermione’s words rang through his head isn’t that better than not knowing?

Without his conscious permission, his hand reached up and knocked on Draco’s door. And then he immediately panicked, reaching for his wand as he decided to just apparate away.

Before he could manage it, the door was swung open and Draco said, “yes?” before he caught sight of Harry. Draco’s eyebrows shot up and he said on a surprised breath, “Harry.”

And it was Harry’s undoing.

Draco had called him many things: prat, scarhead, idiot, wanker, Potter, and a thousand others. But he had never used Harry’s given name before.

“It wasn’t just the bond,” Harry finally managed.

“Sorry?” Draco asked, tugging the sleeves of the hoodie he was wearing down so they covered his hands.

Harry blinked, “Is that my hoodie?” he asked, momentarily distracted.

Draco looked down at himself, then back up at Harry pure panic in his eyes, and Harry did the only thing he could do.

He stepped up the final step into Draco’s house and kissed him. Harry cupped Draco’s face in his hands and molded their mouths together the way he’d been aching to do for weeks.

And Draco immediately melted into the kiss, wrapping his fingers through Harry’s hair and holding him close, lining their bodies up fully. “What?” he managed when they broke apart to breathe.

“It wasn’t just the fucking bond,” Harry said. “Circe. It is so nice to say that. It wasn’t the bond,” he repeated again because it felt so damn good to get those words out.

“Harry-” Draco said, his voice calm and collected, and Harry knew he was going to try to say something practical, something reasonable but he couldn’t stop himself from interrupting.

“Say it again,” he begged.

“What?” Draco asked, brow furrowing.

“My name.”

Draco’s face softened, “Harry,” he murmured.

“Godric, Draco,” he managed as he swooped back in, pressing the other man back against the wall and snogging him desperately, pouring all of the longing and the aching that he’d been feeling for weeks into the kiss. One hand held his jaw while the other cupped his waist and Harry was flying.

“Harry,” Draco groaned into the kiss before he put his hands on Harry’s chest and pushed lightly.

Harry took a step back, panting.

“Wait,” the other man said. “Just,” he shook his head. “Wait a second.” Draco scrubbed his hands over his face, “Why are you here?”

“I didn’t mean to come here,” he said. “I meant to apparate home but I ended up on your doorstep because all I’ve been able to think about all day is you.”

“Right,” Draco said, nodding once. “Yeah. We need to get you to St. Mungo’s. Obviously the bond has-”

“It. is. not. the. bond,” Harry repeated, resisting the urge to shout it but only just.

“This isn’t right,” he said, shaking his head.

“Do you not feel the same about me?” Harry asked, “Should I not have kissed you? Sorry-”

Draco held up a hand, “Of course I feel that way,” he said with a self deprecating laugh.

“But why-”

“Because I felt this way before the bond,” he said.

Harry huffed, “Why is she always bloody right?”

“Who?” Draco asked, scowling in confusion.

“Hermione.”

Draco rubbed his forehead, “Honestly.” He blew out a breath and brushed the thought away, “Right. The point stands, we need to get you to St. Mungos-”

“I’ve already gone,” Harry protested, “because someone kept telling me that everything I was feeling was because of the bloody, stupid bond.”

Draco froze, brow furrowing in confusion, “You’ve already gone to St. Mungos?”

“Yes,” he affirmed. “And I am fine. There is no trace of the bond anywhere-”

“It’s messed with your mind-”

“Draco,” he said, stepping closer and clasping his shoulders. “It’s not the bond.” He took a breath and let the words hang in the air. “It’s me, okay? I am in love with you.”

“You’re not.”

Harry threw his hands up in the air, “Stop it!”

“But Potter this is ridiculous.”

“Don’t,” he said, voice low but firm. “Do not go back to calling me Potter, Draco, so help me.”

The other man took a breath, then another, “Okay. We need a minute,” he said. “I need a minute.” He marched past Harry into the kitchen, “Tea?” he asked.

And no, Harry really didn’t want any bloody tea but as he didn’t seem to be any closer to getting what he did want, he sighed, “If you insist.” As Draco set about making tea, pulling down Harry’s favorite mug, Harry said, “Can I ask a question?”

“You have questions?” Draco asked with a dry laugh, “A moment ago, it seemed I had the monopoly on questions.”

He huffed, “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because-” Draco started to snap before pausing and taking a breath, and Merlin Harry loved him even more. He carefully poured the hot water into their mugs and then he said, “because you didn’t feel this way a month ago, the bond happened and planted artificial feelings, and now you have different feelings.”

“Okay, first,” Harry said, “The bond planted physical urges,” he said. “I still hated you for at least the first two weeks, even if I wanted to touch you.” He shook his head, “Not in a pervy way.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched and something eased in Harry’s chest.

“The feelings came later,” he said, “After I realized how,” he broke off searching for the right words, “fantastic you are. After I got to know you, I realized how many amazing things there are about you and I wanted to spend time with you. Not because holding your hand felt good but because you make me laugh, and because you’re kind, and because you are so interesting,” he said.

“Harry,” he said softly, uncertainly.

“And I know it’s scary,” Harry assured him, “I’m completely terrified. But I also know that I have never felt as happy, and safe, and cared for as I have the past two weeks with you. And if you’d just give me a chance, I-”

Draco lunged across the island, grabbing Harry’s lapels in his hands and crashing their mouths together.

“Mmrph,” Harry managed before kissing the other man back, gentling Draco’s frantic kissing until he could press love into his lips.

“You,” Draco said when he pulled back, “Are the worst.”

“What?” Harry asked, even though he couldn’t help but laugh.

“How dare you leave me this morning telling me that you felt the same as you did at the beginning of this? How dare you not even stay for breakfast?”

“To be fair,” Harry said, leaning across the island to steal another kiss, “You said you felt the same first.”

“Yes well, bravery is your house’s thing, not mine.”

“I’ll tell you I love you before I leave every day,” he promised.

Draco stared at him, “Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them.”

He reached out and took Draco’s hand in his, “I mean it.” After a heart beat Harry cleared his throat, “So, since we’re being honest, I have really enjoyed not sleeping alone the past month.”

There was a pause as Draco’s eyes searched his, “Are you asking if you can move in?” Draco asked.

He shrugged one shoulder, “If you wouldn’t mind. We wouldn’t have to,” he bit his lip, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed, “You know, do stuff,” he said, “If you don’t want to. Just,” he scratched his beard, “you keep the nightmares away.”

Draco’s lower lip protruded and his eyes looked suspiciously bright, “You can’t just say things like that!” he exclaimed. “Merlin, Potter, you don’t do anything by halves do you? You absolute nutter.”

He came around the other side of the island and pressed a kiss to the tip of Draco’s nose, “Harry,” he corrected.

“Harry,” Draco repeated, breathing love into the word, rubbing his nose up the side of Harry’s. “Yes, of course you can stay, you sap.”

Harry wrapped his fingers in the stolen hoodie and pulled Draco closer so he could kiss his petal soft lips again.

“Harry?” Draco murmured into the kiss.

“Mmm?” he asked as he trailed kisses from the corner of Draco’s mouth along his jaw.

Draco tilted his head back to give him more room to maneuver, “What if I said I did want to do stuff?” he asked.

Harry pulled back and Draco whined. “Do you?” he asked.

“I asked you first,” he replied.

He grinned, “I would be very open to stuff. If you are.”

“You should probably take me to bed, then,” Draco replied, pulling Harry back in to kiss him, “And get me out of this hideous, whatever-you-called-it.”

Harry laughed and dragged Draco out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom, leaving their half drunk tea to grow cold.

—————–

True to his word, Harry stayed for breakfast the next morning and told Draco 'I love you’ before leaving for the day.