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Whatever Tomorrow Brings	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3024 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters portrayed herein. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
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- 3
- 4
Chapter 3. Cupid�s Victim

�Sodding fucking fuck.�

�What an eloquently put statement, Potter.�

�Oh shut up, you ponce.�

I sneer at Potter, but do not lower myself to his level of childish name-calling. Instead I raise a rather expressive finger gesture. He leers viciously back at me.

�What the hell are we going to do?�

I lean back in my chair, sighing. �We try to get through these 39 days without doing anything stupid,� I state, clearly emphasizing on the importance to avoid said stupidity and lack of self-restraint. �And we have to try to keep this out of common knowledge.�

Potter nods, for once looking serious and not just annoying. �The Weasleys will have to be told, as will Hermione and the other Order members.�

I nod to indicate my agreement. �Very well. But that�s enough. Only those who need to know, no one else.�

�Madame Pomfrey?� Potter asks, glancing towards the mediwitch�s office door.

I contemplate the matter for a moment before answering. �I don�t think it is necessary. She didn�t discover anything unusual when she examined me, or you for that matter. And there is nothing she can do for us, anyway.�

Potter nods, sighing tiredly as he leans back against his cushions. �This is so messed up.�

I snort noncomically. �You don�t say.�

�I just--,� he continues, staring out through a window without really seeing it. �I can�t believe it.�

�Well, believe it,� I mutter sourly, eyeing the newest copy of the Daily Prophet, just printed this morning. It bothers me that the first page is adorned with the declaration of victory, when the list of those fallen goes on for five pages. Trying to focus on the names however is impossible, as Potter�s raging emotions just about send my flying to the walls.

Anger, frustration, and confusion seem to seep under my skin, and it is all I can do not to react. On top of that my body is telling me that I should approach Potter and alleviate his distress. And all the while I hear Potter�s body ordering him to do the same, seeking to cross the yards that separate us and--

And some disturbing, unnameable things.

It is almost so that I breathe out of relief when I hear the door open behind me.

�Harry!� Molly Weasley�s voice is heard. �Merlin, I�m so relieved!�

The woman rushes past me towards the bed, already embracing Potter in a tight hug before she shrieks and moves away. �Oh, I�m so sorry! Are you alright? Not badly hurt, I hope?� she enquires, eyeing Potter�s ruffled frame worriedly, ignoring me completely.

�I�m perfectly fine, Mrs Weasley--,� Potter begins, but is interrupted when Madame Pomfrey suddenly bursts through her office door.

�Molly! I thought I heard your voice,� the mediwitch says, hurrying towards us. She shakes Mrs Weasley�s hand warmly. �How is Arthur? �

Mrs Weasley smiled sadly. �They say there was less damage than previously estimated, and he shouldn�t suffer any permanent damage, but nothing is certain yet,� the woman says, putting on a brave face even as her anxiety shines through clearly. �If all goes well though, they say he could be home by the end of the week.� The woman looks just as tired as I feel, with dirty, ragged hair dark shadows beneath her eyes.

�I�m sure he�s going to be just fine,� Madame Pomfrey assures, laying a comforting hand on Mrs Weasley�s shoulder. �Arthur is a fighter.�

The red-headed woman smiles again, brighter this time. The she seems to remember herself and turns back towards the bed, this time acknowledging my presence as well as Potter�s. �How are the boys? You look very tired, Draco.�

�I am,� I agree, lifting an irritated eyebrow in Potter�s direction. He sneers back spitefully.

�I checked Mr Malfoy�s condition and he seems perfectly healthy, aside from some minor scratches. Mr Potter was unconscious when he was brought in, but he doesn�t seem to have any bigger injuries. As a matter of fact, I have no idea what he was hit by,� Madame Pomfrey informs, looking quite puzzled. Then she shrugs, smiling at Mrs Weasley. �But don�t worry. A good night�s sleep and I think they will both be as right as rain.�

Yeah, right. I suppress the urge to snort out loud.

�Thank Merlin!� Mrs Weasley exclaims, looking so emotional I�m almost afraid she�s going to start crying. I resist the urge to pipe in and tell her that her precious adopted son isn�t as well off as he seems. And while the stern glare Potter is sending my way ordinarily wouldn�t be enough to silence me, the desperate emotions radiating my way shut me up quite efficiently.

The disturbing thing about the bond is not that someone else�s emotions try to control my actions, but that a part of my own body really wants to obey those intruding emotions. Basically the emotional part of my brain goes at war with itself, which is highly distracting. Merlin, I wish Potter had the sense to keep his thoughts and emotions to himself. Obnoxious little Gryffindor prat.

�Madame Pomfrey,� Potter interrupts, looking worriedly at the mediwitch. �How is Hermione doing?� He looks over at the sleeping girl in the bed further away, and both of the women follow his gaze.

Madame Pomfrey sighs deeply, looking slightly concerned. �I don�t know what the spell was that hit her, but she was in very bad shape. I had to use Skele-Gro to re-grow the bones into her legs because they were completely smashed, and she also had some internal bleeding,� the mediwitch explains, and both Mrs Weasley and Potter start to look a little green. However, Madame Pomfrey smiles encouragingly.

�I�ve been giving her Sleeping Draught so that her body will rest and heal faster, and I think she should be ready to get out of bed by tomorrow evening.�

Mrs Weasley breathes out with relief, her exhaustion seeming to rain off her shoulders. �Good. I�ll contact her parents tonight, they will be so relieved to hear that she�s alright.�

�Very good,� the mediwitch smiles, pleased. Then she turns back to me and Potter. �Now for you two. How are you boys feeling?�

�Just peachy,� I mutter sardonically, and Madame Pomfrey looks at we with mild irritation.

Potter casts a glance my way, silently confirming that our plan still stands. I nod almost imperceptibly, but Potter gets the cue. He smiles towards Madame Pomfrey and Mrs Weasley, merely shrugging. �I�m fine,� he says simply, actually putting on a quite convincing show. �Just a little tired.�

�Oh, you�ll be just fine as soon as we get you home,� Mrs Weasley beams, turning towards me as well. �You are very welcome to stay with us as well, Draco, in case you are not eager to return to Malfoy Manor immediately.�

The offer is presented so warmly that I almost believe there to be some integrity behind it. Still, I have already opened my mouth to decline the offer when I remember my current situation.

God, how I long to return home. I haven�t seen the Manor in several years. But even if I managed to drag Potter with me home, there would be no one else there to stop us from forgetting ourselves and doing the unspeakable. As much as I despise the thought of living with a bunch of Weasleys in their little rat hole, it is better than spending the rest of my life with Saint Potter.

And so, in spite of every cell in my body screaming at me to shut up, I turn towards Mrs Weasley. �That is very generous of you, Mrs Weasley. Thank you.�

Both Potter and Mrs Weasley stare at me slack-jawed, looking much like I have just professed myself to be the reincarnation of Moses. It is clear that neither of them ever expected me to take up on the offer.

Mrs Weasley however recovers quite swiftly. �Wonderful,� she croaks, clearing her throat before she turns towards Madame Pomfrey again. �When can I take them home?�

�As soon as it suits you,� the mediwitch replies. �I�ll just give Harry here a couple of strengthening potions and you can be on your way.�

___________________________________________________

�Thank you so much for this,� Potter says to Mrs Weasley as we step into the Weasley abode.

Mrs Weasley smiled widely, laying a gentle hand on Potter�s shoulder. It looks odd, given that he is more than a head taller than she is.

�Oh, don�t worry about it, dear,� she says warmly. �I�m just so happy that you are both alright.�

Apart from that, I�m pretty sure she just likes having a lot of people in the house, keeping her busy. As if the twins weren�t enough for her to handle.

�You may take Percy�s room,� Mrs Weasley says softly. �If Hermione does come back here, I�m sure she would like to stay in Ron�s.� Her voice breaks slightly at the mentioning of her son, and I watch an almost visible shadow fall over both her and Potter, the emotion all too tangible because I can feel Potter�s silent despair.

�Of course,� Potter croaks, and I can sense his relief. He knows that if he were to stay in Ron�s room, he could not keep himself together for long.

�You may stay in Bill�s room, Draco,� Mrs Weasley smiles at me, and I nod thankfully towards her. �It�s the first door on the right on the third floor.�

�Thank you, Mrs Weasley.�

Anything might be said of Mrs Weasley, but at least she carries herself gracefully, even through the losses of her sons. It is one of the things where I can clearly see her pureblood heritage.

�Now, why don�t you boys get settled?� Mrs Weasley asks, turning towards the kitchen. �I�ll get started on the dinner.�

Potter is already ready to agree, moving towards the stairs when I stop him with a single look. He realises my intentions, breathing in deeply once before he calls after the Weasley matriarch.

�Mrs Weasley,� he says, causing the woman to turn back.

�Yes?�

Potter cringes slightly, clenching and unclenching his fists before speaking. �We have something we have to tell you.�

_____________________________________________________

�You did what?� Mrs Weasley exclaims in disbelief, staring wide-eyed at Malfoy.

�I bonded with him,� the Slytherin repeats simply, not looking pleased about the matter in the slightest. He raises his left hand, rips off the gauze that is wrapped around it, and reveals a bloody gash that crosses his palm.

I am glad we made the woman sit down by the kitchen table, for she looks like her legs might have given in were she standing up.

�It was the only way to save him,� Malfoy continues, glancing over at me with a pointed look. I feel pathetically weak when he speaks of me in that patronizing way. I can�t very well argue with him about it either, when his words are absolutely true.

�But�� Mrs Weasley begins, still in complete disbelief. �How is it even possible? Bonding is a very complicated form of very advanced magic,� she says, staring intently at Malfoy. �To bond and give someone your blood you need--�

�--The proper enchantments and a thorough knowledge and experience of the magic. Yes, I know, and I have that,� Malfoy interrupts impatiently, apparently offended by the disbelief he is facing. He sneers arrogantly at Mrs Weasley. �Don�t forget that I was brought up in a home that greatly valued old traditions. Blood magic is as old as it gets.�

Greatly annoyed by Malfoy�s arrogance, I aim a kick at his shin under the table. Malfoy hisses at me viciously, but I�m certain my message didn�t get through. Mrs Weasley only nods absentmindedly, apparently too blown away by the new information to even recognise Malfoy�s haughty disdainfulness.

�You�re saying that it�s reversible?� she asks, her eyes flickering between me and Malfoy.

�Within 40 days,� I reply, an uncomfortable flush spreading on my face. �Unless it is� consummated.� I have to look away upon uttering the last word, but I can feel Mrs Weasley�s shocked stare burning through me.

�I see,� Mrs Weasley breathes after a minute, sounding surprisingly calm. I look up to se her looking at both me and Malfoy, her gaze unexpectedly sympathetic. �Oh, you poor boys,� she says softly. �First the war and now this.�

Malfoy looks, if possible, ever more sour than before. It is obvious that he does not enjoy being pitied, by a Weasley no less.

Mrs Weasley breathes in deeply again, before she moves to stand up from her seat. �It�s settled then,� she says decisively, looking between the two of us. �You will both stay here until the 40 days are over, so we can keep an eye on you both. I think Arthur will be very interested in this matter,� she muses, sounding almost happy.

I nod at Mrs Weasley, while I look cautiously over at Malfoy. While I personally am very happy for Mrs Weasley�s hospitality and concern, I fear that Malfoy won�t take this so well. The tense set of his jaw and his crossed arms practically ooze of irritation over having to take orders from a Weasley, even as we have very few other options. Still, the blond manages to suppress his dismay very well, as he nods curtly but gratefully at Mrs Weasley.

Personally, I am amazed by Malfoy�s ability to hide his feelings from not only other people, but even from me. I am supposed to be able to sense his emotions, even hear his thoughts, and yet, I get nothing. Perhaps a small tinge of his irritation reaches me occasionally, but that is all. While I am pleased to have my head to myself, it bothers me that he can hear every other thought of mine whilst I have no idea what he is thinking.

�Now,� Mrs Weasley says, smiling widely. �you boys must be exhausted. Why don�t you get settled, and I will get started on dinner? Fred and George will be home any minute, and trust me, they will be hungry.�

Her light tone sets me at ease somewhat. I rise from my chair, watching Malfoy do the same as I smile at my adopted mother. �Thank you again, Mrs Weasley. We�re truly grateful.�

�Oh no, no need to thank me, dear,� Mrs Weasley chuckles warmly. �This is your home as much as mine.�

�Thank you,� Malfoy nods stiffly at Mrs Weasley, before turning on his heels and making his way up the stairs. I hurry to follow him, though I am forced to ask myself why when an uncomfortable silence builds up around us.

�This is my room,� I state when we pass Percy�s room. Malfoy only huffs slightly, turning to gaze quickly at the door before continuing up the stairs to the third story.

�I�ll be going to Bill�s room then,� he mutters under his breath, not even looking at me. But he drags his feet slightly all the way up the stairs, and I realise that this is the first time he has left my presence since I woke up. This is also the first time I truly come to realise the bond�s existence.

It is as if something is tugging at my chest, a string wrapped in my ribcage, the other end connected with Malfoy. It keeps me standing in the hall, looking after the Slytherin, longing to follow him while my head tells me to just go forth into Percy�s room. I feel short of breath, my heart beating much too quickly, the blood pumping through my veins so fast that the pounding of it rings through my head.

Finally I pull myself together, moving from where I�ve been frozen in place. I stomp into Percy�s room and slam the door shut behind me. Leaning back against the closed door, I wait for the irregular pounding of my heart to cease, for this suffocating longing to let go of its hold.

It never does.

________________________________________

TBC
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Whatever Tomorrow Brings