Summary:As payment for a life debt, Harry finds himself in a marriage bond with Draco Malfoy.
cliches used for the hd cliche fest: mpreg, bonding on purpose, and Draco with long hair. :)
Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Scholastic, not to me. No monies involved in the writing of this story.
Notes:For kitty_fic.How did I know when I asked someone why Drarry is such a popular pairing I'd be so intrigued and get totally hooked?
This is my first fic in this fandom and I am scared. *bites nails* I've read so many awesome fics in the Harry Potter fandom, all Drarry because I love them, and I can't believe I'm trying this, but...here goes.
Also, I am in no way a Ginny or Ron hater, but they aren't particularly understanding in this fic. No real bashing is intended, particularly of Ginny, who doesn't take losing Harry well. At all.
Thanks to both kitty_fic for holding my hand, and drarryisgreen for the beta! <3
Work Text:~~~OOO~~~
"But…" Harry looked at Lucius Malfoy, then at Narcissa, and back at Lucius again where they stood in Harry's living room at number 12 Grimmauld Place, "this is absolutely ridiculous! No, scratch that—it's insane!"
Lucius's countenance resembled a pot at full-boil. At his side, Narcissa remained outwardly calm but cast a wary glance her husband's way.
"You dare to insult me in this manner?" Lucius seethed, a piece of pale blond hair flying into his mouth and sticking there as he whipped his head back in incredulous rage.
"There's no need…" Harry tried, but Narcissa interrupted, placing a calming hand on her husband's arm.
"There is every need, Mr Potter. You saved our lives with your testimony in front of the Wizengamot. We told you then that we would repay the life debt. If we hadn't been wrapped up in legalities and busy fulfilling the charitable obligations of our sentencing, we'd have been here before this."
"I told you then that it was unnecessary!" Harry objected.
"And we told you that it was very necessary!" Lucius pointed a long finger at Harry.
"Malfoys always repay their debts, Potter, particularly life debts! So, unless you desire blood, this is the only way to properly repay what you've done for us. Three lives we owe you for, Potter."
"Of course I don't want blood, but neither do I want…" Harry stopped, running out of appropriate words. There were no words, as far as he was concerned, for the fact that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were giving Harry their only child in repayment for his saving their family from the Dementor's Kiss.
"Draco isn't good enough for you?" Narcissa asked, aristocratic nose climbing steadily into the air.
"I didn't say that!"
"You're implying that he isn't," Narcissa sniffed. "I'll have you know, that in spite of our position in the war, the Malfoy name remains one of the oldest and most distinguished in the wizarding community. You will not find a better name to link to yours, I assure you. In fact, I'm sure you'll find that Malfoy does more for you than Weasley ever could."
"Leave Ginny out of this," Harry said flatly.
"It doesn't have to be a marriage bond," Lucius silenced his wife with a look. "You can still marry that girl, if that's what you want. You can bind Draco to you as your slave."
Harry's face must have reflected the horror he felt at those words, because Lucius impatiently stomped his foot.
"Dammit, Potter! Why must you make this so difficult?" He stood breathing heavily for a moment, eyes moving to meet those of his wife before his face hardened.
"If you will not accept Draco into your life, then you will accept his death. One way or another, I will pay this debt to you."
Narcissa visibly blanched but remained silent.
Thrown, Harry stood rigid.
"His death? What do you mean?"
"I mean," Lucius struggled to get the words past his lips, "that if you will not accept our son as husband or slave, you will accept his magical core as recompense for what you've done for us."
"Fuck," Harry whispered, unable to digest the pure callousness of the man in front of him.
Suddenly tired, he waved them away. "Give me until tomorrow," he said. "I'll contact you then."
With a lethal glare, Lucius nodded and motioned for his wife to go ahead of him to toss Floo powder into the fireplace.
The smoke had barely cleared when Harry sank onto his sofa, arm over his eyes. Had the world gone crazy?
Harry's world certainly had. Only a month before, he would have called himself content; his relationship with Ginny stable, even if it wasn't everything he'd thought it would be. Then came the news that the reason her monthly cycles were off wasn't because she was pregnant with Harry's child, as she had hoped (there had been no time for Harry to examine his own feelings on the matter), but was because her fall from her broom during the battle at Hogwarts had damaged her internally. She could not bear children at all.
After that, it seemed that Ginny required more reassurance of Harry's love than he was able to give, even though he did love her, it was just how much and in what way that confused him.
Harry and Ginny's blossoming relationship hadn't taken root until after the war, and then Harry was busy testifying before the Wizengamot and attending funerals, while Ginny waited patiently in the background. Their first time in bed together had been a disaster, with Ginny eagerly stripping off her clothes and Harry feeling very pressured to perform—so much so that he'd had difficulty sustaining an erection. It was a testament to their friendship that they made it through that and were able to form a relationship at all.
It irked Harry that Ginny obviously had experience in bed. Sex had always seemed to Harry to be something momentous between two people, and he'd saved himself for that important person. He'd thought Ginny was that person. That Ginny hadn't been a virgin came as a bit of a slap in the face to him.
Still, they were companionable, and Harry wasn't unhappy. The only time they fought was when Ginny brought up living together—-Harry couldn't quite make that commitment.
And now what was he going to do? After the Malfoy's trial, Harry hadn't given a thought to Lucius Malfoy's words of fulfilling a debt; yet here they were back in his life again, trying to say that Harry had to take Draco as repayment…it was absurd!
Sliding off the sofa, Harry knelt in front of the fireplace and fire-called Hermione. Her face appeared, shining green in the flames, features a bit distracted.
"Harry, hello," she greeted hiim as she leaned forward. "I was just going over some work for tomorrow. Is something the matter?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I really need your advice," Harry began. "I'm in an awful mess."
"How could things have gone pear-shaped since we spoke at lunch?" Hermione teased, raising a brow. "Nevermind. I'll come right through. Let me just finish this last paragraph."
A few minutes later, Hermione appeared in Harry's parlour, brushing soot off her sleeves. She paused when she saw Harry agitatedly pacing the floor.
"What's happened?" Her voice was full of worry.
"The Malfoys have happened," Harry replied, and Hermione frowned.
"What? I can't believe they'd bother you after what you did for them!"
Harry shook his head and relayed the conversation he'd just had with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.
"Circe's ghost!" Hermione breathed, taking a seat on the old sofa, cringing a little at the uncomfortable horse hair. "Why didn't you tell me this after the trial?"
"I didn't think it was important!" Harry said.
"Not important? Harry, it's a life debt! Wizards take them very seriously."
"I know that!" Harry's voice rose. "Now!"
Hermione sighed. "What are you going to do?"
Harry turned to look at her. "That's why you're here! To tell me what to do! I can't marry Malfoy, but I certainly don't want him dead!"
She sighed heavily and took a seat on the sofa. "But you have to accept one or the other, Harry," Hermione told him frankly. "The Malfoys are repaying a life debt…you saved them from the Dementor's Kiss when they were tried after the war. They would have been the last to receive it before the Dementors were destroyed— You put your own honour on the line to keep them alive. And you didn't stop there; you argued to save them from a life sentence in Azkaban as an alternative to the Kiss. They are deeply in debt to you, whether you want to believe it or not, and a pureblood wizard will repay a life debt, one way or another. Especially a wizard as proud as Lucius Malfoy."
Hermione's habit of restating every nuance of a problem was one reason she was so good at helping to solve them; it put everything out there in plain sight. Unfortunately, this time it only served to show Harry what deep shite he was in.
"And you've heard of this…sacrifice Lucius spoke of?" Harry asked her. "If I don't take Draco as a husband or slave, he'll sacrifice him to me—giving me Draco's magical core and killing him in the process?"
Hermione nodded solemnly. "Yes. It's a time-honoured act in the wizarding world. The Malfoys feel that giving you their son is the only way to pay such a heavy life debt. Taking Draco's life one way or the other…Harry, you have to choose."
"Well, I'm not going to have him killed! I couldn't live with that, no matter how much of a git he is." Harry crossed his arms over his chest
"Of course not. So that leaves the bond," Hermione said quietly. "Which will it be? Marriage or slavery?"
Harry cast an annoyed look her way. "I can't take someone as a slave."
She nodded. "Obviously. Although you should consider…if you take Draco as a slave, you're still free to marry whomever you want. I mean, what about Ginny?"
Harry walked over to the sofa and sat beside Hermione. "I've known for a while now that I don't want to marry her."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly. "Even with this thing with the Malfoys, she's still going to think it's because she can't give you children." Hermione looked closely at Harry, cheeks turning pink. "It isn't because of that, is it?"
Harry moved away. "No. Not entirely. But family is important to me, Hermione; I'm not going to lie." He looked back at her. "And what about that? If I marry Malfoy, I'm giving up a family entirely."
Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry, you're not." At Harry's look of shock, she continued, "Bonded wizards can get pregnant. If you want to have children with Malfoy, it's a definite option."
Harry couldn't bring himself to think about that at the moment.
"I'll have to talk to Ginny before I do this." Harry stood. "Will you witness the bonding?"
"Of course," Hermione nodded. "Just let me know when."
OOO
"Harry! I thought we were having dinner tomorrow," Ginny opened the door for Harry to come in before leaning in and kissing him.
"I need to talk to you," Harry told her, slipping paSt "Do you have a minute?"
"Of course." Ginny smoothed her hands over her long, straight red hair. "I'll make us some tea…" She turned toward the kitchen of her small flat.
"No, that's okay," Harry stopped her with a hand to her arm. "Let's just sit down." He led her to the sofa, and they sat close together. Ginny was a bit like her mother in that her home was full of clutter—books stacked a foot high by the sofa, coats and umbrellas hanging half-hazardly on the hall tree, and newspapers littering the side table. At first, Harry liked it; it felt homey. But lately the sheer messiness had begun to gnaw at him, making him feel agitated and uncomfortable.
"You seem nervous," Ginny observed. She put her hand on his knee. "What is it, Harry?"
Harry forced himself to meet Ginny's steady gaze. "I don't want to hurt you, Ginny," he replied honestly.
Ginny pulled her hand away. "Oh."
"I—I'm breaking up with you." Harry watched her face carefully.
Ginny's expression was stoic. "I see."
"I'm sorry."
"It's because of my injuries. Because of what Voldemort's death eaters did to me?"
"Ginny, no, that's not why…"
Ginny turned on him, fury in her eyes. "Don't lie to me! I know how important having a family is to you! I knew as soon as they told me I couldn't have children that you would leave me. I'm just surprised we lasted this long."
"That's not fair," Harry objected. "I do love you, Ginny. I've told you that plenty of times, but..."
She stood up. "But I can't give you want you want, so you're throwing me away."
Harry got to his feet, following her across the room. "No, it isn't that. If we stayed together, we could always adopt."
Her back stiffened.
"But Ginny, I just don't think we're right for each other. I've felt this way for a long time now."
"That's just an excuse!" Ginny whipped around, eyes flashing. "You want to carry on your Potter genes, and you're just too cowardly to admit it!" Her mouth formed a thin line, and Harry suddenly had the passing thought that she wasn't very attractive when angry.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, reminding himself why he was there.
"I can't believe you'd do this to me, Harry!" Ginny shook her head. "It crossed my mind, sure, but deep down I still thought you were too good a person to dump me because of something beyond my control!"
Harry tried to take her hand, but she wouldn't let him. "I wouldn't, Ginny. Not just because of that. I just haven't been completely happy."
"But why?" Ginny looked stricken. "We were good together! We are good together!" Her face had changed, hardened, hawk-like.
"Is this because of the fact that I'd been with other men before you? Harry, you can't be so old-fashioned that you'd hold that against me!"
"That's not it, Ginny," Harry told her, growing annoyed. "If it were, I would have ended it then."
She made a frustrated sound. "Nothing's happening like it's supposed to! Ron and Hermione should be together! You and I should be together!"
Harry shook his head. "Things change. Ron and Hermione realized they weren't right for each other, and…I'm just not happy." He paused. He had to tell her. "Listen, you're going to hear about this, and I don't want you to think it's the reason why I broke up with you when it's really only speeding it along." He took a deep breath. "The Malfoys owe me a life debt for what I did for them at the trials. I'm going to marry Draco Malfoy."
"What?" Ginny's mouth dropped open. "No!" She shook her head. "You can't do that, Harry!"
"I have to," Harry said.
"There must be another way."
"There isn't." Harry sighed, unwilling to argue anymore. "Listen, I have to go."
Ginny rushed to the door after him. "This is why, isn't it? You're breaking us up because you feel like you have to take this life debt! I should have known you wouldn't just throw everything away for no reason."
"No!" Harry insisted. "It's all just happening at once."
Harry could tell she didn't believe him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them. They were thin, like the rest of her. She'd always felt boyish in his arms, and sometimes he'd wondered if maybe...But he pushed the thought away.
"It's true," he said as emphatically as he could.
"I hate Draco Malfoy," Ginny spit vehemently. "It's his fault I can't have children! Why you ever spoke for those evil people, I'll never understand. They killed my brother—-they injured me!" Tears ran down her face, turning her pale skin blotchy. "Why do you always feel you have to save everybody?"
"Draco Malfoy didn't push you from that broom, Ginny," Harry says quietly. "And he didn't kill Fred."
"But he's one of them! He's a Death Eater!"
"Malfoy did what he felt he had to do, just like the rest of us at Hogwarts did. Besides, he didn't even fight in that final battle. The war has been over for a while now and people are putting their lives back together. Malfoy was no more than a child following his father's orders."
"I can't believe you're saying these things," Ginny's eyes narrowed. "And you're going to marry him! Just because Lucius Malfoy wants to repay you! Surely there's something else…a life debt can be filled in other ways."
"I'm not going to put him into slavery or take his life, Ginny, so you're just going to have to accept this." Harry softened his tone. "Take care of yourself. Goodbye."
The sound of the door slamming behind him echoed through the corridor.
OOO
"I'm here to talk to Malfoy," Harry told Lucius Malfoy. "Draco," he amended. Lucius's eyes were hooded as he widened the Manor door to allow Harry entrance.
"He's in the library."
Harry started forward, but Lucius suddenly stopped him.
"Potter."
Harry turned around. He hated Lucius Malfoy—he always had—but the look on the man's face gave him pause.
"I can imagine that my offer of Draco's magical core was a very tempting one. It would free you from having to take on Draco's care, and it would make you a very powerful wizard indeed. But…Potter, I-I implore you…" Lucius' voice actually broke, and it took Harry a moment to realize what Lucius was trying to say.
"What kind of monster do you think I am?" he asked coldly. "You think I would willingly take another person's life just so I could become more powerful?" He shook his head in disgust before swiftly turning and following a house-elf down the long hall, the surprised look on Lucius's face lingering in Harry's mind long after he'd left the man behind.
Harry was still fuming when the house-elf opened the doors to the library leaving Harry staring at Draco, whom Harry hadn't seen since the trials nearly eighteen months earlier.
Malfoy looked taller than Harry remembered him, his shoulders broader. His hair had grown considerably, still pale and now tied back with a black strip of cloth. He didn't remind Harry of Lucius, though; it was a completely different look on him.
Malfoy was all lean and elegant lines, casually resting against the window, one leg crossed over the other. He had none of the hardness that Lucius exuded, but rather reminded Harry of someone from out of the romance novels he'd seen stacked in Molly Weasley's sitting room.
He was certain that comparison would make the former Slytherin fume with outrage.
When Harry fully entered the room, Malfoy looked over his shoulder, sterling eyes widening in surprise. His chin had lost its pointedness, jawline now squared off. Draco was incredibly handsome, Harry suddenly realized.
"Potter," Malfoy greeted him, his expression wary.
"Malfoy." Harry nodded his head.
Malfoy's jaw twitched and he shoved his hands into his pockets, but not before Harry saw how they trembled.
"I suppose you're here to tell me you are accepting the payment for the life debt."
"Do I have a choice?" Harry asked, exasperated.
"You could accept…" Draco licked his lips and swallowed. "You could accept the slave bond."
"You want to be my slave?" Harry asked, surprised.
Malfoy's eyes flashed, "No, but I'd rather do that than die!"
"For fuck's sake!" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "What is wrong with you and your father? I'm not going to take that option! I'm not a killer!" Remembering Voldemort and a few assorted others, he amended, "Not unless pressed to the wall under a wand, that is."
"So you will be taking me as your bonded slave," Malfoy said, looking slightly relieved, but not by much.
"No, I'll be bonding with you in marriage," Harry snapped.
"Marriage!" Malfoy's mouth fell open in shock. "You want to marry me?"
"This isn't a fucking proposal, Malfoy! I have to accept the debt, and I don't want to kill you. I also don't want a slave! So that leaves marriage!"
"But…but I thought you and the Weasley girl…"
"I've already spoken to Ginny," Harry replied, with a sigh.
"I can't believe you're doing this," Malfoy said softly.
"And I can't believe you'd think I'd choose either of the other two options!" Harry all but yelled, struggling to control his temper. "We'll find a way to live with this."
"Do you even understand what a wizarding marriage bond is?" Malfoy asked.
Tired of Malfoy's patronising attitude, particularly when Harry was trying to save his life, again, Harry made an abortive motion with his hand.
"We are doing this, Malfoy, and that's final. In fact, get your father in here—we might as well do it now." What was the point of waiting? Harry wanted to get it over with, and he didn't really need Hermione there with him.
Malfoy, undoubtedly realising he'd better take Harry up on his offer while it was on the table, made haste in notifying his father. Lucius Malfoy soon appeared in the doorway with a large book.
"I hope you don't expect me to act like a wife to you Potter," Malfoy sneered, no doubt rallying a bit now that his life was no longer in danger.
"I would think you'd be anything I want, considering you're fulfilling a life debt," Harry shot back. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer the slave bond."
Malfoy blanched with fear and shut his mouth firmly. Lucius placed the book he carried on the table.
"And I never said anything about your being a wife. I do have Kreacher at Grimmauld Place, you know. He takes care of—"
"You want to live at Grimmauld Place?" Draco cried, horrified. "But it's ghastly! I'm sure Father would give us a suite of rooms here." He looked over at Lucius.
"I am not living in a house where my friends were tortured!" Harry's blood pressure rose dangerously. He'd forgotten how Malfoy could get to him. And this man was about to become Harry's mate!
"But Grimmauld Place …" Malfoy shook his head.
"You always were a spoiled brat, weren't you, Malfoy?" Harry accused.
"And you were always a smug martyr," Malfoy returned, crossing his arms over his chest
Narcissa Malfoy and two house-elves arrived just as Harry clenched his fists and Lucius Malfoy had opened his mouth to intervene.
"Are we ready for the ceremony?" she asked pleasantly, and Harry and Malfoy glared at one another.
Harry found himself seriously rethinking marriage and leaning toward slavery, if Malfoy was going to be this difficult to get along with.
As though Lucius Malfoy read Harry's mind, he took him aside. "Potter, a word, if you please?"
Once they were in the corner of the library, and Draco was busy whispering furiously with his mother at the other end of the room, Lucius looked at Harry evenly.
"The marriage bond will take care of things, Potter; don't worry."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked, surprised.
Lucius cleared his throat, looking discomfited. "I… appreciate," he practically choked on the word, "that you have chosen the least of the three evils for my son, and, in turn, I have chosen the marriage bond accordingly."
Narcissa Malfoy appeared at her husband's elbow.
"We're ready, my dear." She raised a brow at Harry, who nodded.
After that, it was a blur of activity: kneeling before Malfoy, arms extended to one another; the incomprehensible, ancient magic that Lucius murmured over them, his wand trailing colourful tendrils over their wrists, marking them with burning lines that soon settled into white scars; the brief, odd feeling of communion that shook Harry to his core; the moment Malfoy's grey eyes met Harry's and something jolted into place.
It was like a dream.
Later, after packing Malfoy's things, they bid Malfoy's parents goodbye and took the Floo to Grimmauld Place.
"It's as awful as I remember it," Malfoy said when they both stood in the middle of the parlour, a look of disdain on his face that immediately annoyed Harry. "You kept that old horse hair sofa?" he asked, wrinkling his nose, but Harry could tell he was covering up something. From the moment they had arrived, a feeling of anxiety had begun to creep over Harry that he'd never felt before upon entering his house.
He glanced at Malfoy.
"You're afraid," Harry said before he'd thought about it. Malfoy looked at him, surprise quickly turning into a scowl.
"No, I'm not!" Malfoy argued, although his retort was unconvincing.
"Yes. You are," Harry said, but he didn't push it. He didn't even understand why he'd said it in the first place, only that he knew it was true.
"You can have the first bedroom at the top of the stairs," Harry told Malfoy, who looked immensely relieved. Harry supposed Malfoy had been worried that Harry would expect them to sleep together. Well, he needn't have; Harry wasn't gay—at least he didn't think he was—and that wasn't about to change just because of a bond. He'd told Malfoy they would learn to live with it, and he'd meant it.
Harry watched Malfoy carry his suitcases upstairs before turning to the kitchen. Since he hadn't planned on having the marriage bond performed that day, he hadn't expected to bring Malfoy home. He called to Kreacher.
"Yes, Harry Potter, master?" the house-elf appeared, irritable as ever, and just as grudgingly willing to serve.
"Kreacher, please don't call me master. Draco Malfoy will be living here with us from now on—we've bonded in marriage." He waited a moment to let that sink in, but Kreacher remained unperturbed. "Do we have enough for dinner?"
Kreacher scowled. "Kreacher will check, ma—sir. If there be not sufficient food, Kreacher will be getting more, sir."
"Thank you, Kreacher. That will be all."
It had taken Harry a while to get used to having a house-elf, but Hermione had assured him that there was no way Harry could get rid of Kreacher—Grimmauld Place was his home. Upon shifting in, Harry had immediately freed the elf by giving him clothes, but Kreacher chose to remain where he was and serve Harry, albeit with a bad attitude.
Malfoy wouldn't come out of his room for dinner.
Harry wasn't about to beg the wanker to eat, so he let him be. Harry and Kreacher ate by themselves, the cranky house-elf sitting atop several books and casting curious glances at Harry between bites but not asking any questions.
"I suppose you're wondering why Malfoy and I bonded," Harry finally said.
"It is not Kreacher's business to wonder."
"It's in payment for a life debt," Harry told him.
Kreacher couldn't hide his surprise. "That…that is good of master…of Harry Potter to do."
"Well, you know I don't keep slaves, Kreacher."
Kreacher nodded.
"And I wasn't going to have Lucius kill his son for me. So…marriage it was." Harry sighed, wondering when he'd sunk to having only a crotchety old elf to confide in. Perhaps he should firecall Hermione and tell her the deed was done. Glancing toward the silent upstairs, he decided he might as well go visit her and get away for a while.
When Harry stepped out of Hermione's fireplace, the flat seemed empty, which was strange at that late hour. He stepped around a pile of folded laundry that Crookshanks had claimed as a bed. As seemed to be the case with most intellectual people obsessed with research, Hermione wasn't big on housework.
"Hermione?" Harry called, starting down the hall. Her bedroom door was ajar, and he rapped on it with his knuckles. "Hermione? It's Harry."
"Oh, Merlin, Harry—-don't come in!" Hermione's surprised voice stopped him from moving forward. There was a scuffling noise, followed by a grunt, and the next thing Harry knew, Hermione opened the door and he was faced with the sheepish faces of his two closest friends.
"Ron?" Harry's mouth fell open. "When did you get back in town?"
Ron stood slightly behind Hermione, fiddling with his flies, chest bare.
"And since when did the two of you start shagging?"
"Well, we used to date, you know," Ron said, grabbing his shirt off the chair.
Hermione clutched her robe together. "Ron returned from Romania this afternoon and came by to see me."
Harry turned toward the living room, his friends following.
"Well, welcome home, Ron. Sorry to disturb you guys." Ron and Hermione hadn't been a couple in at least a year, and seeing them together was odd, but not the oddest thing Harry had to deal with at the moment. "I just wanted to bring you up to speed, 'mione. I went ahead with the bonding today."
"What? But, why?"
Harry shrugged. "There didn't seem a reason to wait. I talked to Ginny, and then went to see Malfoy."
"Mind telling me what's going on?" Ron looked from Hermione to Harry.
"You didn't tell him?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Well...we didn't really get that far," Hermione said, taking a seat on the sofa and carefully covering her legs with her robe.
"Oh, right." Harry sat beside her and gave Ron the details.
Ron whistled. "I'll bet my sister wasn't happy."
"I'm sorry, Ron. But things weren't working out between us anyway. She doesn't believe that, though."
"I could kind of tell before I left that things weren't so good between you," Ron said.
"Really?" Harry shifted on the sofa, out of sorts more than he thought he'd be speaking to Ron about his sister.
Ron nodded. "I know you, and you just weren't happy. But I don't trust Malfoy. I can't believe you married him, Harry. You should have done the slave thing."
"You know I couldn't do that, Ron."
The fireplace blazed, and Kreacher's face appeared in the flames.
"Harry Potter, sir, Kreacher is sorry to be bothering you, but…Mr Malfoy is needing you."
"He's needing me?" Harry asked, back of his neck tingling as he knelt before the fireplace. "What do you mean?"
"Mr Malfoy be in pain, sir. He be needing you to return, due to the marriage bond."
Harry frowned. "Did he tell you this?"
"No, sir," Kreacher replied. "But Kreacher be knowing what a marriage bond does and thought perhaps Harry Potter would want to know."
Harry turned to look at Hermione. "Do you know what he's talking about?"
"Some bonds cause pain when those bonded are separated," Hermione offered.
"But I'm not feeling any pain," Harry said, although he did feel inexplicably fidgety.
Hermione shrugged. "There are different sorts of bonds."
"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry told him, and the house-elf disappeared with a scowl.
"What exactly do you know about this bond, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Not much. Just that Lucius Malfoy told me he appreciated the choice I'd made for his son and he chose the bond accordingly, whatever that means."
Hermione frowned. "Well, you'd better get home. It sounds as though Draco is suffering."
"It wouldn't hurt him to suffer a while," Ron stated, and Hermione shook her head disapprovingly.
With a sigh, Harry flung Floo powder into the fireplace, saying clearly, "Grimmauld Place," before stepping inside.
Draco tightened his hold around himself, staring at the crab apple tree outside the window of his room at Grimmauld Place. He missed Malfoy Manor, and right now, he was ashamed to admit, he wanted his mother. Everything in his body hurt, and he wasn't sure why. To top it off, he hated Grimmauld Place. It was a house of bad memories, and he couldn't believe he was going to be forced to live there.
Draco sighed, rubbing his arms briskly with his hands, nerves burning as though on fire. Perhaps months of worry and trepidation, knowing what his father had in store for him, were finally catching up with him. From the moment his father uttered the words to Potter after the trials, Draco knew the life debt would be repaid with Draco's life. The fact that Potter had not chosen to kill Draco and take his magic was only slightly shocking—after all, Potter was a Gryffindor.
However, the fact that Potter chose a marriage bond over a slavery bond still had Draco reeling—he was now married to Harry Potter. They were spouses, husbands. It was going to take some getting used to. He still wondered if Potter even had a clue what a marriage bond entailed. No matter which kind Draco's father had chosen, they would be bound together for eternity. Draco suspected Potter had done what he always did—rushed into it without much forethought or research.
Draco had to admit Harry Potter wasn't his first choice for a spouse; they hadn't exactly been friends at Hogwarts, and the fact that Draco owed Potter his life put them on very uneven footing. Draco would much prefer to be bound to someone who didn't make him feel vulnerable. Added to that was the fact that Potter was obviously a heterosexual, or at least leaned that way. It would have been nice to have a husband who might want to have sex with Draco, eventually. And here it seemed illness was to be added to the mix, forcing Draco to turn to Potter for help with that, too.
Foregoing dinner because Draco couldn't bring himself to share the table with Potter yet, he'd taken a nap on the large bed in the guest room he was granted. He'd awakened to the sensation of his body aflame, every muscle, orifice, artery, and organ burning as though set alight. And it just kept getting worse, although frankly he wouldn't have thought that possible.
For the past half hour, Draco couldn't hold back the moans of agony, the pain finally driving him to go in search of Potter.
Draco hadn't found him, though. The prick had left without a word—on the night of their marriage bond. Draco made a disgusted face that reflected back at him in the window pane. Not that he'd expected a wedding night or anything of the sort, but to just disappear without a word—that was just bad manners.
Kreacher had given Draco a pain draft, but it hadn't helped, and now Draco could only hold himself ramrod straight, digging his fingers into his arm, trying to distract himself by looking out into the dark Muggle street. He'd taken to softly banging his head on the wall, the sharp pain distracting him from the fiery fury running through his veins, when he heard a voice behind him.
"Draco?"
Draco slowly turned around, because to do so any faster would have been pure torture. "Potter," he said, the word coming out weaker than he'd have liked.
Potter walked toward where Draco stood, looking at Draco with that boyish, open expression of his.
"Kreacher said you're ill."
Draco wanted to berate Potter for disappearing, but he didn't have it in him. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and said, "I think I need to go to St Mungo's."
"Is it that bad?" Potter asked, and Draco let out an exasperated breath. He could hardly fucking stand, of course it is that bad!
But then Potter put his hand on Draco's arm, and the oddest thing happened, the pain began to subside and was replaced by a feeling of comfort so strong, it caused Draco to sway forward so that Potter had to catch him in his arms. Draco was mortified, but more than that, he was blessedly relieved.
"Whoa, there. Don't worry; we'll go right away." Potter slipped an arm around Draco's waist, and Draco moaned with relief at the absence of pain.
"Wait," Draco said, clutching at Potter's back.
"What?" Potter stood very still, allowing Draco to hold onto him. "Draco?"
Draco took a fortifying breath. "It's…it's better. As soon as you touched me, it got better."
"What? But… that doesn't make any sense!" Potter's hands came up to cup Draco's elbows. Realising Potter was about to push him away, Draco hung on tighter, unable to face the pain again as yet.
"Potter…" It was embarrassing how Draco clung to him, but he couldn't help it.
"It be making perfect sense, sir," Kreacher said from behind them.
Potter turned, taking Draco with him. "What do you mean?"
"It be the bond, sir. It what be making Mr Malfoy burn when Mr Potter is not present and touching him." The irritable house-elf stood in the doorway uncertainly. "I knows it to be so when the pain draft not be helping. Mr Malfoy be suffering from the bond."
Draco felt Potter tense, his voice coming close to Draco's ear. "But…why? What about me? I haven't been in pain."
Kreacher shrugged. "There be many types of bonds, Harry Potter, sir." He turned to go. "If you not be needing Kreacher any longer tonight, Kreacher be going to bed now."
"That's fine. Goodnight, Kreacher." Potter nudged Draco loose so he could look him in the face.
"Can this be true?"
With every inch that came between them, Draco felt the searing pain return. He tried to bear it—Merlin knew he didn't want to hang around Harry Potter's neck any more than Potter wanted him to hang there—-but the torment quickly got so bad that Draco grabbed Potter by the hand, lacing their fingers together.
"Please…I can't stand it," he managed to say, taking in Potter's shocked face at his plea; and the man had a right to be shocked—the Draco Malfoy he knew would rather die than plead with him this way. Shame and pride warred with self-preservation, and the latter won out; Draco didn't let go.
"All right," Draco felt Potter's arms gingerly come around him, and so great was the respite, Draco couldn't be arsed to feel embarrassed about it any longer.
Potter sighed in Draco's ear, body taut. "It's late. I guess we'll have to sort this out tomorrow. Um..." Potter looked about the room. "Just come sleep in my bed tonight—that way you can, er, touch me while we sleep."
Draco followed Potter into the bedroom, their hands linked—a singularly strange sensation, pain ebbing and flowing throughout Draco's body like flames in a burst of wind. The three minutes it took for Draco to strip off his clothes were pure torment, as he had to let go of Potter's hand in order to do it. Potter may have been feeling trepidation and discomfort about crawling into bed with Draco, but the intensity of the pain Draco felt obliterated all embarrassment and unease in his case. As soon as Potter was down to his pants, Draco yanked Potter onto the bed and rolled on top of him, sighing with relief as soon as their skin made contact.
"You can't imagine how this feels," Draco groaned. "I'm on fucking fire, and then you touch me and it's like a balm." He sighed again, wriggling to get more comfortable as the agony receded.
Potter lay like a board, heart thumping hard against Draco's chest. "Potter, I promise I'm not going to turn you into a poof," Draco huffed. "You don't have to be afraid of me."
Potter jerked back, dislodging Draco. "I'm not afraid of you! What the hell made you think that? I'm trying to help you, you arse!"
The terrible burn started up again, and a whine escaped Draco's lips as he scooted forward, reaching for Potter.
"Okay, okay, you're right! Anything you say, only don't stop touching me." He wrapped his arms around Potter and pulled him close.
"This is so weird," Potter said into Draco's shoulder, body still tense.
"I assume you mean being in bed with a man?" Draco asked, throwing a leg over Potter's hip.
Potter grunted. "No, I mean being in bed with you!"
Draco couldn't help laughing at that.
"Yeah, it is. But it helps—thanks."
"Do I have a choice?" Potter asked on a sigh. He paused. "Did you just thank me?"
Draco scooted closer. "Kreacher's right—some bonds can do this, although why my father chose to torment me, I have no idea. Then again, he always was a sadistic bastard."
Potter grunted. "Agreed."
Potter gingerly rested his hand on Draco's hip, relaxing just a little. "I think maybe I know why he did it."
Draco moved his head back, careful to keep his body aligned and touching Potter's.
"Why?"
"I think perhaps our bickering made him decide to choose a bond that will force us together as quickly as possible." Potter's green eyes were thoughtful as he looked down at Draco's face. "Forced proximity. It will probably wear off."
"I fucking hope so," Draco replied, pressing his cheek to Potter's chest Now that the pain had subsided, the beginnings of shy embarrassment started to creep in again. After all, he and Potter had done nothing but bicker since the day they met, and lying in his arms felt more than strange.
"Just—just try to go to sleep," Harry said. "We'll deal with it all tomorrow."
Draco couldn't help but think that Potter had a vast amount of patience to be taking all of this so well. A forced marriage bond just when he surely had been thinking of marrying the Weasley girl—and now having to sleep in the same bed with a man when he preferred birds.
Then again, they were bonded; Potter had to be feeling the effects of it somewhat.
With a sigh, Draco closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, trying not to think about how firm Harry's chest was beneath Draco's cheek.
The following morning, it was as though the pain had never happened. Potter was gone from the bed, and Draco took his time showering and getting dressed. When he walked into the kitchen, he was surprised to find Potter out on the deck feeding the birds.
"The Boy Who Lived turning into Snow White?" Draco asked, standing in the doorway.
"Snow Who?" Potter frowned.
Draco couldn't help but laugh. "It's a Muggle fairy tale. Yes, I know. How weird is it that I should be telling you about something Muggle?" He shrugged. "I had an aunt who used to read them to me when I was very small." He suppressed a shudder at the memory. "Although she preferred the original, Grimm version. Anyway, Snow White was this princess who often communed with animals."
Potter snorted. "I'm hardly a princess." His look told Draco that it was difficult for Potter to imagine Draco as a loveable toddler, which frankly stung. Potter had always been capable of hurting Draco with a caustic look that spoke volumes about how little Potter thought of him, and that fact drove Draco crazy. He'd developed a tougher skin during the war and didn't care too much what most people thought of him; but Potter was and always had been the exception to most of Draco's rules.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Potter asked, sliding past Draco and entering the kitchen. Draco felt an inner pull toward Potter as he passed, as though his body missed touching him even though the pain was gone. It made him answer more sharply than he intended.
"I'm fine." Draco turned to hide his face and all it might reveal. "Is this coffee?" He crossed to the counter.
"Yeah, you like it? I have tea if you prefer."
"This is fine." Draco took a cup down from the shelf and poured it full of the dark, aromatic liquid.
"I have to go into the book shop. Just…uh, make yourself at home," Potter said.
Book shop? Ah, yes, Potter owned a little shop of magical books in Diagon Alley that, from what Draco heard, gave Flourish and Blotts a run for their money. Draco had forgotten that. He didn't look at Harry, but continued contemplating his cup of coffee.
"I'll manage, thanks," he replied coolly.
"Kreacher made some breakfast. There's a warming charm on it." Potter left without another word, and Draco probed around for the food.
A few hours later, after Draco had explored the house and fully unpacked his things, he was bored. He couldn't just sit about all day while Potter was away, so he decided to make a trip to the Manor to retrieve some of his potions to work on. He'd noticed a small room in the basement that would do quite nicely for brewing purposes.
Draco Disapparated, looking about where he landed, expecting to see the front of the mansion and the surrounding property. Instead, he found himself in Diagon Alley standing in front of Magical Bindings, Potter's shop.
"What the…" Draco frowned. Deliberately thinking of Malfoy Manor, Draco tried again, only to land this time inside the shop, directly in front of Potter, who looked up at him, surprised.
"What are you doing here?"
"I wish I knew," Draco replied, looking around. "I was trying to Apparate to the manor to get my potions."
"The bond wouldn't let you," a female voice said from behind him, and Draco turned to find Hermione Granger standing there, several books in her arms. "It's trying to keep you close to Harry."
Draco and Potter exchanged a look.
"She's probably right," Potter said neutrally. "She usually is."
"Hello, Granger," Draco said cordially, and she nodded in greeting. She really had grown up to be an attractive witch. Draco had been frankly surprised when she'd ended up dating Weasley rather than Potter, whom Draco thought much more handsome. He shoved that thought away. Being in the same room with Potter again made his body yearn for him as it had that morning, and that was not on.
Granger smiled. "I've been reading up on bonds. They are fascinating, really."
Trust Granger to find bonds fascinating. He and Potter shared another look.
"There are so many," Granger continued, oblivious, "there's no telling which your father used, Malfoy. You'll have to ask him. But many marriage bonds include a period when the bonded are forced to remain close in order to build familiarity. Those bonds are usually used in arranged marriages and such, when the couple don't know one another well."
"I'm sure my father thought it infinitely amusing to force us to spend our wedding night in bed together," Draco said wryly, and Hermione blushed.
"Just sleeping," Potter clarified. "Do you suppose he can't go anywhere I'm not?"
"For the time being, I'd guess he can't," Granger answered. "You'll have to go with him to get his potions."
"Never mind," Draco scoffed, annoyed. He felt like a child, for Merlin's sake, having to be escorted everywhere. "I'll get Father to send them over."
Without another word, he Apparated back to Potter's house.
God, he hated that place. His great-aunt Walburga Black often had him there during the first five years of his life, and they were the visits of nightmares for Draco. Thankfully, she died by his sixth birthday, and his cousin Sirius took over the house, although he never lived in it as far as Draco knew.
Draco was thankful that Potter had his great aunt's portrait covered—he would hate to have to face her again.
Bending by the fireplace, Draco set about making a firecall to his parents.
"Tetchy," he addressed the house-elf who appeared in the flames, "is my father at home?"
"No, Master Malfoy, sir. Your parents is being on holiday in the South of France."
"What? They didn't tell me they were going away! How long will they be gone?"
"I don't knows, sir…Tetchy is sorry." The elf immediately began hitting himself on the head with a poker from the fireplace.
"No, that's fine, Tetchy, stop that!" Draco sighed. "I may come by later with Mr Potter to collect my potions."
"Very good, Master Malfoy, sir."
Draco ended the fire call and went to sit on the sofa, the coarse horse hair prickling the backs of his legs.
So his parents ran off directly after giving him over to Potter—how nice of them. And dear Father made sure the binding spell was as uncomfortable for his son as possible. Resentment and hurt warred inside of Draco, as he sat seething for a long time until he finally fell asleep.
He awoke to a dim room and the familiar feeling of fire creeping through his veins.