Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Honour Bound	By : Draeconin Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 42041 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter 1
- 2-Ch. 2
- 3-Ch. 3
- 4-Ch. 4
- 5-Ch. 5
- 6-Ch. 6
- 7-Ch. 7
- 8-Ch. 8
- 9-Ch. 9
- 10-Ch. 10
- 11-Ch. 11
- 12-Ch. 12
- 13-Ch. 13
- 14-Ch. 14
- 15-Ch. 15
- 16-Ch. 16
- 17-Ch. 17
- 18-Ch. 18
- 19-Ch. 19
- 20-Ch. 20
- 9
- 10
- 11
Honour Bound
by Draeconin

See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.

Chapter Ten

"What are you going to do with it, anyway?" Harry asked, nervously. He still wasn't happy about the thought of a picture of his parents being destroyed ('The Potters, the Potters, the Potters,' he repeated to himself, trying to put a little emotional distance between him and them, just in case it turned out they weren't his parents), but he'd been able to talk Colin Creevy into making a copy of it for him, so it wouldn't be a total loss. It wasn't the original, though, and that fact rankled, just a bit.
"Did you get your hair clipping, as well?" Draco asked.
"Yes! Now what are you going to do with them?" Harry asked, impatiently.
Draco took a deep breath. "This spell is used in cases where the paternity of a child is in question. I'm going to pour this potion," he said, showing Harry a small vial of silvery liquid, "over both the picture and the hair, then cast 'Famiglia Svelare' on them. They'll burn. If-"
"Does it have to?" Harry asked of the picture. "No. I'm sorry. You did say it would be destroyed. Go on."
Draco looked at Harry a bit impatiently. He understood, in an abstract kind of way, but it was still annoying. "The rising smoke will tell the tale," he said. "The smoke will be in the forms of the objects' owners. If they group together, they're family. If not..." He didn't need to finish the sentence, and he knew it, so he let it trail off.
"But Lilorienne said my fa- Said James was a distant cousin, so he is family," Harry objected.
"A close group, touching, if they're immediate family. Further apart, the more distant the relationship," Draco explained, with strained patience. "If they're not related at all, the smoke will dissipate almost immediately. Most of the aristocracy is related in one form or another, Harry. I thought you researched all this?"
Harry took a deep breath, composing himself, then shook his head, denying it. "Just what was directly related to myself," he admitted. Harry's eyes widened. "Draco, if I'm not related to James Potter, then I'm not of the aristocracy!"
Draco laughed. "Harry, if Salazar and Godric are your parents, you're royalty!"
Harry looked at the blonde, gobsmacked.
"You didn't know?" Draco asked, amused.
Harry just shook his head.
"Salazar was a prince, in line for the throne, although he never rose to it. Godric was a duke, and second cousin to Salazar."
"Incest?" Harry whispered.
Draco was tempted, for a moment, to let Harry believe that, but had a change of heart. "No, second cousins are quite alright to marry, if they wish."
"Do it," Harry said, then subconsciously held his breath as Draco proceeded, until lack of oxygen forced him to breathe again.
Harry crossed his fingers, hoping that his world wasn't about, once again, to be turned upside down. The smoke began to rise, and figures formed. He recognized the smoke form of himself, and then of the couple he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised. His form turned to the couple and gave a respectful bow, but drifted quite a ways away from them.
Draco's eyes went almost impossibly wide. He hadn't actually believed any of Harry's wild tale.
Harry sat down, hard, as his legs gave 'way beneath him.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
"What was I supposed to tell you, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired, mildly, after Harry had bearded the old man in his office. "That an abandoned baby was found in a stasis spell in a cave, and I gave him to a good couple?"
"It would have been a good start," Harry said, acidicly. "It would have saved me a lot of heartache. Is that all there was to it?"
"I wanted you to have a family, Harry. And yes, that's almost all there was. The cave entrance had been well hidden, and was only discovered after an earthquake revealed it."
Harry was curious. "Who found me?" he demanded.
"Your godfather," Albus revealed.
Harry had already run the gamut of emotions, from shock to acceptance, upon being confronted with the truth, although it had taken him two days to do so. He'd walked around in a daze during that time, almost like a zombie. Draco had been quite busy then, putting off those who cared enough to inquire, informing them that Harry had just had some shocking news, but that he'd be alright. It suited his sense of humour to ease their concerns on the one hand, while dangling another piece of curiosity-inducing information in front of them, and then refusing to answer the resulting questions.
But... Sirius? Yes, Harry could very well see the man being curious enough, and reckless enough to explore a newly revealed cave, especially as a young man. Still, it was a shock, and one he didn't need, since he was still recovering from the shock of finding out that the Potters hadn't been his parents, after all. But he refused to show weakness to the man in front of him. He bypassed that subject, and went on to another.
"How long did it take you to find out, Professor?" Harry asked, mildly accusing. "I think it very likely that you'd have performed spells to locate any family I might have still living. But there weren't any by that time, were there?"
"James was the closest relative of yours I could find," the headmaster admitted, ignoring Harry's first question.
"Was he? Or was he only the closest acceptable relative you could find?" It was a shot in the dark, played on a hunch, but it hit home, as he saw the headmaster pale and flinch, if only in the slightest amount. If Harry hadn't known the old man so well by this time, he'd likely not have noticed.
"What do you know?" the old man asked.
"I didn't know anything until just now, Headmaster," Harry admitted. He leaned forward. "So, who is it?"
"I don't recall saying there was anyone else, Mr. Potter. In fact, I distinctly remember saying that James Potter was-" He stopped himself, at the look on the young man's face.
Harry sat back in his chair, not bothering to hide his disgust. "You're going to continue to lie to me?" he inquired.
It had been many years since anyone had dared to call the headmaster a liar to his face. "You will apologise, Mr. Potter, and on the instant!" the headmaster snapped. Apprehension and pride warred within him for dominance. His wounded dignity won.
Instead of directly defying the old man, Harry said, "When I asked you if James was only the most acceptable relative, you paled, Professor. You flinched, if only slightly." He waited.
The old man was too wily to lie again, or admit to anything. He stuck to his injured pride and dignity. "I will not tolerate-"
"You won't tolerate," Harry interrupted, trying not to let his frustration erupt into anger as he rose to his feet. "Very well, Professor. It would have been less time consuming to have you tell me, but those spells can be done again." He turned, then turned back. "Oh, and for the record?" Harry affected a bored, rote-recitation voice, and said, "I'm sorry I called you a liar, Professor."
Dumbledore glared at the youth as he departed, then slumped in his chair, and sighed. He'd just made a major error, and he knew it. The son of two of the school's founders, both of whom had been extremely powerful wizards, and from everything he had used in his efforts to be able to compare, even more powerful in his own right. More powerful than himself, certainly, although he went to pains to make sure the lad didn't realise it. On top of that, the youth was the heir to the wizarding world's throne. And now his own damned pride had just alienated him. It would only have been a matter of time, though. He had counted on the boy never finding out his true heritage. If Harry started thinking about the Dursleys in connection with this...
That muggle family had been another big mistake. He'd assumed that they'd welcome a sister's child, and had complacently gone about his business. And then he'd compounded the error, and lied, when it turned out Harry had been abused and neglected while in their care. Then to back up his lie, he'd had to force the child to return to that same treatment for several weeks every summer.
Oh, the boy had been safe there, but only because of the wards he and some of the more powerful members of the Order of the Phoenix had erected. Blood protection? Yes; a small vial of James' blood, taken after his death, was buried under the foundation, and gave a minimal amount of blood protection. But it had nothing to do with Lily or her muggle sister. Harry had survived all those attacks on him by his own power, but the first one, in which Voldemort had, to all appearances at the time, died. That one was a protection spell originally put upon the babe by his parents. The Killing Curse had broken it, but only after reflecting most of the power back to its source.
Dumbledore had researched for that spell, after finding Harry almost completely unharmed, save for a jagged wound on his forehead. He cursed himself innumerable times for not having had the foresight to check to see if any other spells had been on the child, other than the stasis spell. If he had, he might have been able to study it. Unfortunately, the knowledge of that particular spell seemed to have been lost with the deaths of Slytherin and Gryffindor.
And that was also a mystery he wished he could solve. What had happened to Harry's parents, that they hadn't been able to retrieve him. They'd died, obviously. He didn't think anything else would have kept them from their child. But how? He recalled what he had seen of Sirius' memories of finding the child:
Sirius had picked his way over the rubble of whatever had been blocking the entrance to the cave. He started exploring, but found very little more than fallen stone and dust, until he came to a small side-cave. There he saw an almost newborn baby, perhaps a few weeks old, surrounded by an orb of energy. A few detection spells told him there was nothing dangerous about the magic surrounding the babe, but the magic was also nothing he was experienced enough to handle. He had put a magical shell about the whole thing, being careful not to let the two shells touch, but still a reckless thing to do, since he had no way of knowing if the magics would interact, or how, and had taken the baby to his old headmaster.
He, Albus Dumbledore, had then, of course, examined the stasis spell, done a few weeks worth of research, then was safely able to dissolve the stasis spell. The baby had been alive. Not a surprise in itself, until he had found out how long the child had been stashed away in that cave. He had found out all he could about the child through magical means; magic potential, relatives, etc. - finding out who the baby's parents had been, had been a major surprise of it's own - but he hadn't checked for any other spells on the child.
He readily admitted to himself that his choices after the Potters' deaths hadn't been the best for Harry's welfare, but he hadn't known that initially, and at first, at least, the lies had been well-intentioned, rather than to protect his own reputation. Passing Harry off as the Potters' own child protected the babe from public scrutiny and media sensationalism...
'Oh, gods,' he moaned to himself. That triple damned 'prophecy' he'd manufactured... It was what had caused Voldemort to go after the Potters, but he'd been so sure that they'd be safe. He cursed Black for getting cold feet about being the Potters' secret keeper. And who knew that Pettigrew yearned for power so badly that he'd abandon everything for the chance of it?
Albus had counted on that trumped-up prophecy to act as a lever, so he could guide the babe with so much potential power in the directions he needed him to go. Of course with the Potters' deaths, he'd had to find someone to raise the child until Harry was old enough to start learning what he needed to know (Although he approved of the name the young couple, with his guidance, had given the child, he never had liked James shortening 'Harald' like that. 'Harry' was such a common name; but he had to admit that it was a better one for muggles to relate to). And then he just had to develop a conscience, and try to give the child a 'real' childhood...
He shook his head at himself and sighed, as he contemplated the web of lies, omissions, contradictions, and manipulations he'd devised over the years. Such a tangle he'd woven. And now it seemed all his plans were about to come down about his ears. He was sure of it. He reached into a desk drawer for a headache potion. He had a feeling he was going to need Professor Snape to brew him a constant supply.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
"Oh, bugger!"
Draco rolled over in bed and looked at the dark-haired head on the other side. "What is it now, Harry?" he said, tiredly.
"What's my name, Draco?"
"Harald Myrddin..." Draco began in a bored voice, then stopped, eyes widening a bit in realisation. "Oh, I see." After a minute's thought, he said "Well, it's rather a toss-up, isn't it? But I suppose the higher rank's surname would be the one used."
Harry couldn't see it, his back being turned to Draco, but he was positive the blonde was smirking. "Stop smirking, Draco," he said, to test his theory.
"I'm not... How did... Are you using legilimency on me?" Draco accused.
Harry rolled over, grinning, to face his bed-mate. "No," he admitted, "I just knew you would be."
Draco glared at him.
"But I am not going to call myself by that name. It would be rather pretentious, don't you think?" Harry inquired.
Draco shrugged - only partially successfully, since he was laying on one shoulder. "If he's your... You know," he said, going off on a tangent, "you'd think that as long as wizards have been able to have children without witches, we'd have come up with a separate word for a male child bearer. Anyway, if Slytherin was your - mother - you have every right to it."
"I wonder if the Potters adopted me," Harry mused. "If they did, then Potter would still be my legal name, even if-"
'They did not,' Lilorienne interrupted, choosing to enter the conversation.
"Bugger," Harry opined.
"What now?" Draco wanted to know.
"Lilorienne says they didn't adopt me."
"Does she know what your surname was?"
'I'm sorry, but no, I don't know,' Lilorienne answered, not waiting for Harry to repeat the question. 'However, the father's name was usually used, if only one were. Otherwise, the names were hyphenated, or combined in some fashion.'
"Combined?" Harry asked aloud, so Draco could hear at least one side of the conversation.
'Your parents were a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, so possible combinations could be "Slyffindor", or "Grytherin",' she replied.
Harry made a face. "Those are terrible!" he replied.
"Harry, if you don't tell me what this bloody great castle is saying right now," Draco broke in, "I'm going to hurt you. Badly."
Harry looked at him, not in the least worried, due to what the slave bond had done to the blonde's ability to hate him, and had a wicked idea. "Give us a kiss, and I will," he replied. He 'heard' the castle laugh at his blackmail.
Draco cast a doubtful, suspicious look at the green-eyed youth, scooted closer, leaned over, took hold of Harry's face, and give him a quick peck on the cheek, before quickly returning to his own side of the bed. "Now tell me," he demanded.
"You call that a kiss?" Harry asked, amused in spite of his frustration.
"It's what you're going to get, Pot- Harry," Draco returned, smugly.
Harry nodded. Two could play this game. "Alright," he replied, "She said that last names could be combined."
"Hyphenated?" Draco asked.
"That's one possibility," Harry admitted.
"What else?"
"That information will cost you another kiss. A proper one," Harry said, smirking.
"Oh, no. You got your kiss," Draco objected. He was afraid that if he gave in, it wouldn't end with just a kiss.
"Oh. Well, then..." Harry went quiet, pretending he was talking to Lilorienne. Lilorienne played along, and kept quiet.
Draco put up with it for an amazing ten seconds. "What did the bloody castle say, Harry?" he demanded.
"Hm?" Harry said, smirking to himself. "Oh! Have you reconsidered that kiss, then?"
Draco glared at him, then once again scooted over, repeating his actions of just a minute before. But when he leaned in, intent on giving as brutal a kiss as he could manage, Harry grabbed him, and pulled the blonde down on top of him, one arm around his back, the other holding the blonde head to his own.
Draco struggled, but quickly lost his will to fight, as he'd feared he might. Soon both of Harry's hands were roaming Draco's body, exploring his neck, shoulders, and back, both over, and then under his pyjama top. Draco even allowed the former Gryffindor to grip and massage his buttocks through the silk of his pyjama bottoms. But when Harry's hand gripped Draco's erection, the blonde pulled back. He didn't try to remove Harry's hand, but he gave the green-eyed youth a rather strange look.
"What?" Harry asked.
"What are you wanting?" With Harry's hand where it was, that was a rather inane question, and he knew it as soon as he asked it, but... "I won't be your boy-toy, Harry."
A confounded Harry removed his hand from Draco's cock, and asked "Just what are you going on about? We're soul-bonded. Married! Or so you said, anyway."
"What I said, Harry, was that it was looked upon as being married. If two people were to set up house and start throwing out get, they'd be considered married, as well. But in our circles, Your Highness, it just isn't done. And you need to produce heirs. Several of them." He deliberately used Harry's deserved title, to drive home the young man's responsibilities to his position.
Harry stared at him for a few moments, then without a word, he got out of bed, and started getting dressed.
"What are you doing?"
Harry ignored him, slipping on a robe.
"Where are you going?"
Harry started putting on his socks.
"You're not going without me!" Draco averred, moving quickly. Since he was hurrying, and Harry was going at a deliberate pace, he was only a few metres behind the dark-haired young man as he headed down the hall towards the door.
Harry stopped by the snake statue guarding the room just long enough to kick it, viciously, making Draco wonder if Harry were alright, after all. But he said not a word. He just hurried after, as his soul mate strode rapidly out to the corridor. He knew he was being a little - alright, quite a bit - pathetic, following Harry around like this, but he couldn't quite stop himself. "Harry! You didn't even give me time to brush my hair!" Draco scolded.
Somehow, that struck Harry as being very funny. He started laughing, quietly, and slowed down enough to let the blonde catch him up.
"I'm so happy you find me amusing, your arseness," Draco drawled, dryly.
"Sorry, Draco. I just have to check on something, and if I don't do it now, I may lose my nerve. I just hope he hasn't gone to bed, yet."
"Who?"
"Snape."

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
"I'm sorry, Professor. Were you abed?" Harry asked.
"No, Potter, but I'm not in the habit of receiving students after nine. Good night," Snape said, with scant courtesy.
"Is there such a thing as a male pregnancy potion?" Harry asked hastily, as the heavy door was swinging shut.
Snape paused. It was an odd question. But he had a queasy feeling that he knew who would be using it. He swung the door open again, his eyes running from the nervous-looking ex-Gryffindor to the young Mr...to Draco, who was looking at his companion with rather a shocked expression on his face. "Mr. Potter," the professor began, threateningly, "if you're thinking of impregnating young Draco, here, I must warn you-"
"Could we discuss this out of the hallway, please?" Harry requested, interrupting.

"I don't believe there's anything to discuss, Potter," the potions master said coldly, and again made to close his door.
"That's no way to treat the uncrowned king, Professor," Draco said neutrally, causing the man to again halt his actions.
"I'm sorry? King? I thought it was Potter who broke his head on those stairs."
"I thought you were Dumbledore's confidante," Harry said, casually. "But perhaps not." He turned as if to leave, though he actually had no intention of doing so.
Snape stepped to the side of the doorway. "Get in here, Potter," he snarled. He knew he had been manipulated, but here was a puzzle that it could be in his best interests to unravel.
"Now: What's this nonsense about Potter being king?" Snape asked Draco irritably, once they'd been seated. "The last living member of the royal family was murdered by Grindlewald!"
"Although not dead, I wasn't exactly 'living' at the time, either," Harry said, cryptically.
"Explain yourself!" the potions master demanded.
"'Your majesty'," Draco prompted, with a mischievous look in his eye.
"Even if he were crowned king, he'd have no status other than as a student, here," the man snarled, reprimanding Draco.
'But I'd wager you'd be far more polite,' Harry thought. He caught a feeling of rather dubious assent from the castle. "It all started when Ron pushed me down the stairs..." Harry said. He then went on to relate most of what he'd learned, at least insofar as it related to his rank.
Snape glowered at him. "What sort of gullible fool do you take me for, young man?"
Draco hastened to reassure him. "I didn't believe it either, sir, until I did the 'famiglia' test."
Of course Snape would have nothing less than that Draco relate exactly what he'd done, how he'd done it, and every detail of the results. He muttered something to the effect that he'd have preferred to have done the test himself, but Harry overheard.
"I will not have anything else destroyed, sir." Harry said, heading off any thoughts that might be leading in that direction. "I have too few reminders of my- Of the Potters as is. They may not have been my parents, but they protected me to the best of their ability when the time came, and gave their lives for me."
"As a proper subject should," Draco said, under his breath. Harry glared at him, and the blonde had the grace to look at least a little abashed.
"No matter. There are other methods," the man replied to Harry. "If I could get a snip of your hair, and a vial of blood?"
Draco caught at Harry's sleeve, garnering the dark-haired boy's attention before he could reply. Giving the potions master an apologetic look, he spoke to Harry. "May I have a word before you make a decision?"
Harry nodded, and they made their way to a distant corner of the room.
Draco leaned in close, and whispered "He's a Death Eater, Harry. You don't want to be giving him such personal, and powerful, spell ingredients. The Dark Lord would like nothing better!"
Harry laughed. "He may be a hateful git, Draco," he said easily, "but if with nothing else, I trust him with my life."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter," came Professor Snape's dry tones, as Draco stared at Harry in disbelief. "What Mr. Potter isn't telling you, ...Draco, is that my loyalties may not be what they seem. And I only tell you this, because these rooms are completely warded, and you are bound to bring no harm to young Mr. Potter, here."
"I don't suppose you know of a way to determine my true surname, sir?" Harry asked, hopefully.
Snape gave him a sidelong look, eyebrow raised in question. "Let's see what the tests tell us first, shall we? If, that is, you have decided to entrust me with the materials I require?" he asked, challengingly.
Harry laughed. "I no longer feel the need to prove myself, sir," he said, "at least not in that way, so you'll have to find some other way to goad me." His grinning countenance only elicited a sardonically raised eyebrow from the potions master. Harry's amusement at Snape's attempt to manipulate him, by appealling to his former inability to resist a challenge, soon faded, however, in the face of what was at stake.
About fifteen minutes later, both young men were back out in the corridor, with strict instructions to go straight to their rooms, on pain of detention - and with a note for Filch, or any teacher or prefect, should anyone come across them.
About halfway back, Harry stopped dead in his tracks, and started swearing under his breath. His scowl would have caused any number of First Years, and a good few Second Years, to piddle their pants.
Draco sighed. "Now what's wrong?" he asked, in annoyance.
"The greasy git never answered my question!"
"You only now noticed that?"
"So why didn't you remind me?" Harry demanded.
Draco looked gave Harry a look that could only be called sedimentary. "I don't recall you asking me how I'd feel about being up the duff with your get, Harry," the blonde said, pointedly.
Harry blushed.
Once back in their rooms, after Draco accepted Harry's apology (he made him suffer for a awhile, of course), they sat for hours, and talked about it. Finally, Draco allowed that if it were possible, he wouldn't mind giving Harry at least two heirs - but only after they were out of school, formally and legally wed, and their lives were relatively safe and settled. And with that admission, Draco also knew that he'd opened the door for further developments in their relationship. He wasn't proud of it, but he rather found Harry's take charge attitude there comforting (and a little exciting). Well, when it wasn't annoying, anyway.
It was the wee hours when they finally got to bed again. The next day was a coffee day, of necessity, and still they barely managed to stay awake through classes.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o

In answer to some of the reviews I've been getting for chapter nine:

  1. Why is it hard to believe that someone can fight for the rights of some groups, while being right behind oppressing others? It may not be logical, but it happens all the time. Whether Hermione will stay that way remains to be seen.

  2. No particular religion has been mentioned, nor will be.Your assumptions are your own.

  3. Harry has already specifically said, in ch. 9, that such closed-minded people were in the minority. (Not my personal belief, but the situation is getting better.)

Thank you, everyone, for your reviews. I do read them and enjoy them. And when I can, I reply privately, by e-mail.

Beta: Phoenix

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o

Please: If you would like a response to your review, leave an e-mail address. I don't clutter up the chapters with review replies.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Honour Bound