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The Stag and The Snake	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12 – Grave Mistakes

The pair reached the edge of the dance floor, and Harry turned to look at his companion. “So er, what now?” Draco laughed and released Harry's hand. He snatched two glasses of wine off the serving platter of a nearby waiter, and passed one to Harry. He took it, and smiled a little when he felt Draco's arm coil around his waist.

“Come on,” he steered Harry away from the crowd and over to one of the vacant tables. He sat down and Harry followed his lead. For something to do with his hands he sipped the wine he had been given. He had never had much taste for red wine, but he found that whatever kind it was, he liked it. Draco shifted his arm from around Harry to clasp his hand once more, their fingers almost instinctively threading together. Harry couldn't exactly pinpoint what he was feeling, attraction, love, lust, or something else entirely. What he was certain of was how much he liked it. “I must say Potter,” Draco said in his familiar drawl, “this is not how I was expecting the evening to go.” Harry hid his grin behind the glass.

“Yeah, I was expecting less hand-holding and more hexing.” Draco turned his head away and his shoulders quivered a little with silent laughter.

“We're on the same page then,” he said once he had composed himself. He took another small sip of wine while he traced small circles on the back of Harry's hand with his thumb. “I hope you didn't object to my...leading, I had a feeling you might not be used to so much pomp and circumstance.” Harry smiled a little, allowing his gaze to drift back to the dance floor, watching the couples while he enjoyed the feeling of Draco's hand in his.

“You'd be right,” Harry answered, setting his glass down on the table and running his fingers along the stem of the glass. “I mean, there was the Yule Ball, but that was like a rave compared to this.”

“A what?” Harry chuckled a little, realizing too late that he had lapsed back into Muggle references.

“Sort of a Muggle dance party thing. I've never been to one, but they cram too many people into a dance hall or warehouse, play loud crazy music, and everyone does a lot of drugs.” Harry looked back to him, and saw Draco's head cocked as he worked over the information. He wasn't certain whether or not Draco knew what drugs were, as he couldn't recall a wizard ever using the term and he elaborated, “sort of like illegal potions in the Muggle world that make you hallucinate or makes you hyper-sensitive to everything around you, and stuff like that.”

“That is the most bizarre thing I have ever heard.” Harry laughed, and Draco smiled warmly at him. It was a strange expression to see on his face, as Harry had become so accustomed to the haughty arrogance the boy had perfected while at school. He didn't dislike it, though. “Potter,” Draco began again, and Harry cocked an eyebrow, silently asking him why he maintained using his surname. He paused with a short exhalation of breath that could have been a laugh, and started again. “Harry, would it be all right if I kissed you again?”

“Do you even need to ask?” With mirrored grins they leaned in and their mouths fit together as though they were two halves made whole. It was more insistent than the butterfly kisses they had exchanged so far that evening, and Harry loved the fireworks of sensation that coursed through him at the contact.

“Ah, young love,” a wistful voice said, and the pair jumped apart in surprise. Harry looked up, ready to tell whoever it was to piss off, but stopped himself short when he realized it was Ron and Hermione. Harry did not fail to notice that Draco's expression suddenly became rather fixed. Without waiting for an invitation, Ron sat down heavily next to Harry. Hermione joined them after a moment's hesitation, her eyes flitting from Harry to Draco, and back again. “So work out your differences then?” Ron smirked and Harry snorted.

“Yeah, something like that.” Harry squeezed his companion's hand, and he smiled a little when he felt him reciprocate.

“You two look so good together though,” Hermione said almost breathlessly. Harry was a little startled, as Hermione wasn't usually one to get swept away by romantic displays. “I mean, you two looked so...I don't know, like you fit. Like two sides of a coin, light and dark. I can't explain it.” Harry could feel his face colouring, while Ron rolled his eyes. Under the table, Draco was being decidedly unhelpful in ridding Harry of his blush by shifting slightly closer and pressing the outside of his thigh into Harry's.

“I—er, thanks, I think.” Harry attempted to laugh off his slight embarrassment. He wasn't used to being fawned over, and though it looked like Hermione might start gushing more praise she stopped herself short and simply smiled. He shifted, trying to push Draco back, but instead he hooked his left ankle around Harry's right, smirking a little while Harry tried to get a hand on his blush. It wasn't as though Ron and Hermione knew what his Slytherin companion was up to, but he still felt embarrassed by the casual way in which Draco intertwined himself with Harry. Had they been alone, Harry definitely wouldn't have minded, but he didn't love the idea of Draco giving him a hard-on in front of his friends.

“So this thing, it's happening then?” Ron asked, his eyes shifting from Harry to Draco. He didn't look embarrassed or disgusted by the idea of his best friend marrying a Malfoy, Harry felt the look was more curious than anything else. Harry chewed the side of his lip lightly, but he couldn't stifle his grin, while lightly disentangling his leg from Draco's and the other boy finally relented, and shifted back a little, though reluctantly.

“Yeah, I think it is.” Draco chuckled next to him, and they readjusted their hand-holding, though neither boy was willing to let go.

“I hope you know that makes you an honorary Weasley, Malfoy. Harry's practically family.” Harry wasn't surprised when Draco snorted with laughter.

“Not likely Weasley,” he said, taking on his old holier-than-thou tone of voice. “Though if you would rather think that, wouldn't that also make you an honorary Malfoy?” It took Harry a great deal of self control to keep from laughing as Ron's face went almost as red as their wine. Draco smirked, seemingly pleased with the reaction.

Hermione seemed to have sensed the danger that Draco's comment had sparked and she quickly grabbed Ron's hand. “Come on Ron, let's go get something to drink,” the ginger paused, looking from his girlfriend to Harry, then shrugged and allowed himself to be dragged away, though not before shooting another glare towards Harry's partner.

“Thank the Gods. I thought they'd never leave.” Draco grinned, and Harry turned to him with a frown.

“They're my friends Draco, at least try not to give Ron reason to murder you.” Apparently unconcerned, Draco sipped his wine, then turned to Harry, an almost wicked glint in his eye.

“But with them hanging around, how am I supposed to get in a good snog?” Without waiting for Harry's response, he cupped his cheek with his free hand, and pulled him in for a kiss. As with every kiss with Draco before, Harry felt as if he was melting. He felt warm all over, and it sent shocks of arousal straight to his groin.

“You seemed to be getting a pretty good grope in with Ron not five feet from you,” Harry commented against Draco's mouth, before kissing him again.

“Yes, but as much as I loved making you turn that delightful shade of pink, this is much more fun.” He curled one arm around Harry's waist, edging him closer.

Draco pulled back before it could get too heated, and rested his forehead against Harry's. “Best not get too intense,” he murmured, his soft breath ghosting over Harry's parted lips. “I think my father would kill me if I bent you over this table right now, or, you know...whatever.” Harry chuckled, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

“Yeah that might be a little awkward.” From somewhere above them they heard the distinctive sound of someone clearing their throat, and they both turned to look, one of their hands still intertwined. Draco's other hand was resting on Harry's cheek, while Harry's was placed on the side of Draco's neck. Harry could see that Draco looked more than a touch irritated at being interrupted, while Harry struggled to wipe the look of surprise off his face when he saw Rufus Scrimgeour standing before them.

“Minister,” Draco said by way of greeting, reluctantly pulling away from Harry and sitting up straight.

“Mr Malfoy,” the Minister of Magic placed a closed fist over his heart and gave them both a short bow in turn. “Might I ask for this dance, as way of congratulations for your Bonding announcement?” Though the question was not entirely unexpected, it took Harry a great deal of self control to swallow his protests under a neutral mask.

“It would be an honour, Minister.” Draco turned back to Harry momentarily, lifted his hand and placed a chaste kiss upon Harry's knuckles, before letting go and allowing himself to be escorted away.

Harry eased back in his seat and crossed his legs. Malfoy usually danced quite gracefully, but as he watched him with the Minister, they seemed to be moving rather awkwardly. Harry took his near-forgotten wineglass, and sipped it while he watched them.

“Why is your boyfriend dancing with the Minister of Magic?” Harry looked up to see that Ron and Hermione had returned. The drinks they had claimed to have gone to get were nowhere to be seen, and both of them looked rather flushed.

“Fiancé,” Harry corrected. “It's a tradition thing that Sirius told me about. If someone asks us to dance, we're supposed to accept.”

“Okay...isn't that a bit strange, though? Watching someone you're gonna Bond with dancing with someone else?” Ron sat down next to him, closely followed by Hermione.

“It's a bit weird, but there's not much I can do about—”

“Mr Potter,” a silky and distinctly familiar voice cut him off. Harry turned to look and he suddenly found himself face to face with his old Potions Master. The man was dressed in his trademark black, though the robes he wore were much more elegant than those Harry had grown accustomed to seeing him in while at school. He offered Harry a small bow and he felt himself go red, knowing what was coming. “Given that your companion is otherwise occupied, might you indulge me in a dance?”

Harry heard Ron choke behind him, and Hermione stifle a small gasp of surprise. “Uh, er, yes. All right.” His consent seemed to send Ron over the edge as he sputtered behind him, as though intending to intervene on Harry's behalf. He caught a brief glance of his and Hermione's flabbergasted expressions as Snape took his hand and led him back to the dance floor. Harry could feel his face still burning, though more from the reactions of his friends than anything else.

As with his last dance, Snape took one of his hands and rested the other against Harry's waist, leading him in a slow waltz. He was watching Harry in a way that was very similar to how Draco had been eyeing him all evening, but the expression from Snape made him feel extremely uncomfortable. “Professor—” Harry started, but Snape chuckled softly and cut him off again.

“Please, I'm hardly your teacher any longer,” he smiled slightly, an expression Harry was certain he'd never seen upon the man's face before. “Do call me Severus.” Harry felt his face grow warm again. The familiarity was extremely strange, and the concept of calling the man who had terrorized him for seven years by his first name was, if possible, even more bewildering.

“A—all right, er, Severus,” the name sounded wrong in his mouth. “I was just wondering, er, why you would ask to dance with me. I—I mean in school it seemed like you hated me.” He was blushing again, Snape seemed pleased by his blush, and chuckled.

“Ah Harry, I did. I loathed you. Spitting image of your father...a never ending reminder of my memories of him, the good—and the bad.” His dark eyes glittered almost dangerously and Harry swallowed nervously. What was Snape getting at? Harry had a feeling that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

“But wonder of wonders,” Snape continued, in that same smooth, silky tone that made Harry almost shiver with discomfort, “I realized that after so many years of saving your skin from one harebrained misadventure or another, I no longer detested you. I wanted to claim you.”

What? Harry's absolute shock seemed to show in his eyes, as Snape's hand on his waist moved slightly lower, his thumb tracing circles against his hipbone. It took a great deal of self control to keep himself from pulling away. In his peripheral vision, he saw Sirius lurch forward, and Remus grab his arm, shaking his head firmly. He refocused his attention on his former teacher. “C-claim me, sir?” He hated how much his voice shook when he spoke.

“Oh yes,” Snape said in a voice so low it was almost a purr. “Who would have thought that awkward eleven-year-old that you once were could grow into such a...handsome shape.” Harry felt himself go red again, and he swallowed thickly. He had no idea what Snape wanted him to say. What could he say, following a statement like that? He opened and closed his mouth several times, though no sound came out.

“The offer is simple, Harry,” Snape continued, watching him with such intensity that it made Harry feel, if possible, even more unsettled. “Bond with me instead of that insufferable brat. I can give you as much, if not more, than he ever could.” He smirked, “and of course I have certain...experience that Mr Malfoy has yet to gain for himself.” He chuckled, adjusting his grip on Harry's hip, his long, pale fingers coming alarmingly close to his groin. Harry jerked in surprise, and Snape reluctantly readjusted his hold upon Harry's hip.

“I—I can't sir,” Harry stuttered, trying desperately to get some sort of control over his shock and panic. “I've been betrothed to Draco since I was little, it's a binding magical contract.” At his words, Snape chuckled with amusement. There was no warmth in the reaction.

“And when did Famous Harry Potter ever abide by the rules?” His voice still carried that low purr, and Harry felt his unease grow even more pronounced. “Contracts can be broken.” He moved closer to Harry, and he tried to step back, but Snape mirrored his movements.

“Sir, I—I—” Snape pulled him close with unexpected strength, and the suddenness of the movement cause Harry to stumble into his embrace, eyes wide and fearful.

“I believe this is where I cut in,” a cold voice said, and they both turned to look. Draco was eyeing Snape with a look just short of fury. Snape's grip slackened for a moment, and Harry took the opportunity to wrench himself out of the man's grasp. He moved quickly to Draco, who draped an arm over Harry's shoulders.

“Like I said Professor,” Harry said as calmly as he could, “I have a Bonding Contract with Draco. I want to Bond with him, not you.” Harry forced his words to come out emotionless and final, leaving no room for his affections to be questioned. Next to him, he saw Draco smirk, and tighten his hold around Harry briefly.

Snape's faced coloured ever so slightly, and he bared his teeth. “This isn't the end,” he said in a low growl intended for only Draco and Harry to hear. “You will regret this.” In a swirl of great black robes, he swept from the hall. The moment he was gone, Harry let out a slow breath of relief.

Draco led him off the floor and moved to one of the side doors. He cracked it open to reveal a secluded area of the manor's gardens, fountains and lush flora dappled with the bright light of the waxing moon. The fresh air helped settle hiss frayed nerves, and Draco moved to pull back his arm, but Harry instead leaned against him. “What the hell happened Harry?” He wrapped his other arm around him, pulling Harry into a gentle embrace. “You looked terrified.”

“Shocked, more like,” he mumbled, pressing his cheek against Draco's shoulder while he looped his arms around his companion's waist. “Snape wanted me to Bond with him instead of you.” Draco started slightly at this admission. Clearly whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that.

“We have a Betrothal Contract,” Draco said, his arms tightening around Harry ever so slightly. “It's magically binding.”

“I said that. He seemed to have a hard time taking no for an answer.” He paused, enjoying the feeling of Draco just holding him. It was comforting, though as they stood there something occurred to him, “I mean, I'm not helpless. I can take care of myself, he just...I dunno, he caught me off guard.” He felt Draco's warm breath tickle his cheek as he chuckled softly.

“I've known you for thirteen years, and for the last seven of them I watched you throw yourself headfirst into the stupidest and most dangerous situations, only to come out of them alive every time. Believe me, you're far from helpless.” Draco shifted his position slightly, and Harry felt a light kiss press into his forehead. “But that doesn't mean you can't accept help from time to time when you need it.” Harry smiled, and tilted his head up. Draco seemed to have been thinking along similar lines, and their lips met. Harry had felt the world around him dissolve every time Draco had kissed him that evening, and this time was no different. This time, he also felt as though the kiss had a convalescence to it; washing away the shock and distress that Snape had caused.

Draco and Harry spent the rest of the evening joined at the hip. They talked and drank, Draco tried to provoke Ron when Harry was otherwise occupied, which spurred Hermione to drag him off for 'drinks', and in response, Draco would pull Harry forward to kiss him deeply. The scant requests to dance they received from other guests they declined politely. Though Harry could see Lucius and Sirius looking mildly irritated when they did that.

Harry could not believe what a good time he was having. He was so caught up with talking and laughing with his friends, and sneaking off with Draco—the latter often intercepted by Lucius or Sirius, who nudged them back towards the festivities—Harry could barely recall why he had been dreading the Ball in the first place. When the clocks chimed midnight, Harry felt a little sorry to see it end. Unlike the last ball he had attended, he wouldn't have complained if this one lasted all night. He and Draco headed towards the doors, their pinkie fingers hooked together while their parents looked on with looks of both relief and approval.

Though Harry was unused to it, he did his best to bid a goodnight to the guests as they trickled out. When Ron and Hermione stopped before them, Harry could see Lucius's eyes flit directly to Hermione, the corners of his mouth twitching a little. Clearly old prejudices died hard. Harry narrowed his eyes, all but daring him to make a comment. Thankfully, he shifted his gaze away, though it seemed as though it pained him to do it.

Hermione threw her arms around Harry before he could protest, and he stumbled backward a little, though grateful that he didn't fall. When she pulled back and took Ron's hand. Her eyes were sparkling slightly as she beamed at him. “I'm so happy for you Harry, really.”

“I'll send you guys an owl soon when some of the finer details are worked out.” Hermione smiled brightly again, and Ron cuffed him on the shoulder.

“Good on you,” he said with a genuine grin. Harry felt a little relieved, it would have been exhausting if to spend the next however many years breaking up fights between his best friend and his Bonded. Ron's eyes flicked once to Draco, as though uncertain what to say. He turned and led Hermione out, who was still dabbing the corners of her eyes a little.

When the hall and grounds had completely emptied, Harry turned back to Draco. He really didn't want to go. “Well, er, I guess I'll see you soon?” Draco smirked and slipped his hands under Harry's outer robe, hooking his fingers in the belt loops of his trousers, and pulled him in for a slow, tender kiss. Harry felt his face flame, distinctly aware of the four adults watching them. The impatient clearing of throats behind them made the pair reluctantly pull apart.

“Definitely,” Harry said when some of his embarrassment had faded, “We have a Bonding Ceremony to arrange, after all.” Harry hung on to him for another moment, then reluctantly untangled himself from the blond and went to join Sirius and Remus.

“Well...bye then,” Harry smiled at him, and Draco offered a small smile in return. He turned and stepped out of the hall, across the grounds and out of the gates. He could feel Draco's eyes on him until they had walked out of sight of the Manor's doors.

“Well that went well,” Sirius said with a small smirk, causing Harry's face to flare again. He was relieved that the darkness muted it slightly, though Sirius still chuckled a little, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder.

“Yeah, it went well.” Harry didn't know what else to say, but clearly his pleasure showed on his face.

“Try to resist sneaking back to the manor when we get home,” Remus said with a small smile, “I believe Lucius would not be pleased if you snuck back with the intent of ravaging his only son.”

“Remus!” Harry cried, his eyes wide with surprise at the comment. Sirius roared with laughter, and while Remus appeared pleased at the reaction his words had caused.

“Not to worry Harry,” he continued, while Sirius struggled to compose himself. “you'll be seeing plenty of Mr Malfoy over the next few months. We do have a Bonding Ceremony to plan, after all.” They stepped off the main road and into the copse of trees that served as their apparition point.

“Yeah, I—” Harry stopped short, his smile faltering as a rustling and snapping of twigs beyond their range of vision distracted him. Sirius and Remus froze, their heads whipping towards the source of the sound, their hands reaching for their wands. Harry opened his mouth to call out, but in the same moment he saw a bright flash of white light and his world went black.

~*~

Draco strode through the gardens of his home's sprawling grounds, unable to wipe the small smile from his face. Had he not the reserved Malfoy sense of dignity drilled into his head, he was certain that he might have been skipping. He dropped onto one of the stone benches that rested near one of the many fountains around the property.

“Draco? Are you out here?” He looked up and turned his head back towards the house.

“Over here mother,” he called, and he watched her glide towards him, something small and glinting clasped between her fingertips. She reached out and Draco extended his hand at the same moment, and she dropped something small and metal in his hand. Upon closer inspection he realized it was a tiny golden snitch.

“The house elves found that while cleaning the hall.”

“It's Pott—Harry's. He must have dropped it.” He turned the small piece of jewellery in his hand, another small smile playing across his lips.

“They only just left Draco,” she said with a knowing smile. “If you hurry you might be able to catch them before they disapparate. He smirked, and nodded to his mother in silent thanks and ran off. Malfoy dignity be damned.

He ran the entire way to the apparition spot, his cheeks flushed as he fought to catch his breath, while he slowed to a walk. Draco felt his heart fall a little, noticing the dead silence in the trees ahead of him. Had he missed them? He was tempted to turn back, but he wanted to be certain. As he pressed forward, he broke into a run when he saw a leg sticking out at an odd angle against the ground. When he got closer, he found Sirius and Remus unconscious and spreadeagled upon the ground. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Fighting down his panic, he dropped to his knees and pulled out his wand. “Enervate,” he murmured, struggling to keep his hands steady. Sirius's eyes flicked open and he sat up with a groan while Draco repeated the spell on Remus. He wasted no time and demanded in as even a voice as he could manage, “what happened? Where's Harry?”

“Don't know, didn't see,” Sirius mumbled, as he worked through his disorientation, his voice panicked and anguished. “Harry, they took Harry, stunned us. Didn't see...” Draco didn't hear much more.

Draco felt his legs give out beneath him. Shock and grief consumed him. He buried his face in his hands. “Harry.”

In a Ministry office not far away, a scroll of parchment ignited and curled into ash.

End of Part I
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The Stag and The Snake