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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Honour Bound
by Draeconin

See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.

Chapter Four

Although a bit overcast, it wasn't too chilly, so Harry took Draco out to sit on the wide, sweeping risers outside the front doors of the school. Previous to the incident with Wolmsley, he'd been planning to have this talk in the Room of Requirement. But now, with his upcoming meeting with Snape, it didn't make sense to go all the way up there, only to have to trek all the way to the dungeons a short while later.
Harry was trying hard to think of some way to say what he wanted to say that wouldn't automatically cheese off the blonde. Finally, he thought he had it. "I don't need a slave, Draco, so-"
"You're selling me," Draco said dully, interrupting.
"What? No!" Harry exclaimed. "And I couldn't, anyway; we're bound!"
The blonde smirked. "Just pulling your chain, Potter," he said.
The Gryffindor didn't think so. He had felt the sudden, cold despair coming from the blonde; but he didn't pursue it. "As I was saying, I don't need a slave - but that doesn't mean I'm going to get rid of you!" he added quickly. He could feel that Draco had mixed feelings about that, but that he was, nevertheless, reassured. "I'm sure you don't like being reminded of your...new status, and I don't like being reminded of it, either. I only did it to keep Voldemort from you. So unless the situation absolutely calls for it, don't call me 'master'. I'd appreciate it if we could try to be friends." Now he felt astonishment radiating off of the blonde. He could also tell that Draco didn't want to believe him.
"You should be wallowing in your victory over me - sir," Draco responded. He couldn't disobey a direct order, like being told not to call his master what he was, but he could wriggle around it.
Harry pursed his lips in annoyance. "In formal situations, you may call me 'sir', 'milord', or any proper variation of respectful address you like regarding my title and position. Otherwise, call me 'Harry'."
"Yes...Harry." He had struggled to find another way to address his master, but he had been given a direct order, and had to obey. He was also trying not to notice his master's pursed, but still kissable, lips.
Due to his father's expectation of the Dark Lord's eventual triumph, and the return of the old traditions, Draco had been instructed to study all of those traditions, thoroughly. The only time a bond slave could disobey his or her master's direct order was when such an order would put the master (or mistress) in possible jeopardy. Keeping the master safe over-rode all other concerns.
"And why should I lord it over you?" Harry inquired. "That would imply that I needed to prove myself better than you. That was never the case, Malfoy."
Draco was stung. "So you always thought yourself superior? I thought so!" he accused, hurling the words at 'the Golden Boy'.
The green-eyed youth was astonished by the accusation. "No! Look, Malfoy-"
"My name is Draco," the blonde interrupted. "You named me."
"Yes, but look, I-" Harry hesitated. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, distracted from his original point.
"You only gave me one name. My name is Draco, and only Draco," the blonde replied, matter-of-factly.
Harry sat, stunned. "Oh, gods, Draco... I didn't think. I knew I had to name you, but I just assumed..." He sighed, looking at the bent blonde head beside him, and unthinkingly laid a hand at the base of the graceful neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take your surname from you."
"It's done, Harry," the blonde replied, resignedly. Despite himself, he reveled in the Gryffindor's touch. He cursed the fate that had made proximity to 'the Golden Boy' not only necessary, but permanent - as long as the bond wasn't transferred.
"Fine," Harry replied in the same tone, "but as to that 'superior' accusation; I'm not. I'm just like everybody else." At Draco's snort of disbelief, he added "Okay, so I have an inhuman madman and his fan club after me..."
This time, Draco's snort was one of suppressed laughter. 'Fan club? Good one, Potter!' he thought.
"...and had some adventures that I somehow survived, and..." Harry trailed off, as memories of his life started playing out in his mind. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "maybe I'm not so normal. My life has been hell."
"Right; Dumbledore's pet?" the blonde scoffed.
"Dumbledore's weapon and tool," Harry corrected.
"Huh?" 'Oh, right - that was a brilliant thing to say,' the blonde thought. "I mean - what are you going on about? The old git lets you get away with things for which any other student would be ejected!"
"Draco, if you had an intelligent, magical pet that was really good at defending you, would you punish it for every rule it breaks, or would you only pay attention to the important rules, try to keep it happy, and keep training it to make it better at the job?"
"What are you saying? That Dumbledore is just using you?" Draco asked, disbelievingly.
"That's exactly what I'm saying," Harry replied. "Oh, he might like me, but he wouldn't hesitate to let me get killed, so long as I got the job done."
"What job?" Draco asked, with a small sneer.
"I'm the one that's supposed to kill Voldemort - or get killed by him," Harry said, voice low and husky, laden with emotion. He raised his eyes to the gray ones next him. "Haven't you ever wondered why I'm always the one they come for?" he asked.
Draco was shaken. He couldn't doubt what was being said to him; he could feel the emotion. "I- I just thought it was revenge...for - you know - when you got...that," the blonde stammered as his gaze fixed on Harry's scar, his face paler than normal.
Although very few knew the whole of the Prophecy, most knew some of it, so "No, the prophecy is what prompted that. He came after me when I was one year old. That's your father's precious Dark Lord, that he'd make war on babies. Dumbledore says my mother's love saved me from all but the head wound that left this stupid scar. And since then, so many have died, needlessly. The stupid thing is, if he'd ignored that idiotic prophecy, I'd probably never have had reason to want to kill him."
"Truly?"
Harry shrugged. "Impossible to say, really, but I don't think so. But I need to go speak with Snape. Is there anything you'd like to do? You may come with me, go back to the dorm." He paused, thinking. "On second thought, scratch that last option - at least until they get used to you being around."
Draco hesitated. Here was his chance to get away from his rival, and the reminder of his new status for a time. Yes, he had some inches he needed to write for a couple of classes, since his master didn't seem inclined to deprive him of his education, but thanks to the rumour mill, he'd likely be the target of insults, taunts and deprecating remarks if he went to the library. Not he hadn't before, but then he'd at least had the prestige of his name, and the backing of his House. Now, he'd lost the former, and his House would be amongst the worst, as the 'discussion' and incident at lunch had proven. "I think I'd like to see how you fare with Professor Snape," he decided.
"So tell me something, Draco," the green-eyed young man asked, as they made their way to the dungeon, "would you have taken the Dark Mark?"
The blonde tensed. "You know what would have happened to me," he replied.
"Yes," Harry said simply, "but before you knew of that. Would you have?"
"My father expected it of me."
"You're not answering me," the Gryffindor observed.
"To prevent my being tortured and killed? Yes!" Draco hissed venomously, hating being forced to confess it. The fire trails in his brain returned, then died away, leaving him angry that the decision to take the Dark Mark would have been forced on him, but not that the question had been asked.
"Is that the only reason?" Harry asked, unaware of what had just happened. He could still feel Draco's anger, but wasn't sure what was causing it.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He's insane," Draco replied. "If the only way you can rule is through fear, then you are not worthy of being followed, no matter how good your cause."
"You agree that muggles and muggle-borns should be killed, then?" Harry asked, saddened to have that fear confirmed.
The blonde paused, gathering his thoughts. "No," he finally answered. "But I don't think pure-bloods should be held back so mudbloods can catch up, either."
"Don't say 'mudbloods'. It's not their fault they were born to muggles. But what are you talking about?"
"Remember your first flying lesson, Po- Harry?" the blonde asked.
Puzzled, the dark-haired young man replied "Yes. So?"
"Didn't you wonder about my being able to fly so well?"
Harry shook his head. "I was rather concentrating on other things, at the time. Besides which, I think I assumed that you were a natural, like me."
"I wish," Draco muttered. Aloud, he said "I'd been flying since I was five, Harry. And casting spells you learned in first year since I was seven. Most other pure-bloods the same, saving Longbottom. Probably his grandmother's doing; though the gods only, know why."
"So," Harry said slowly, working through the implications...
"So we were mostly bored to tears, waiting for something new to be taught."
"So the whole of first year was a waste for you?"
"No," the blonde admitted. "In Potions, Herbology, and a couple of other classes we were learning new things, as well. But we could have been learning a lot more, if Dumbledore hadn't been trying to make mu- muggle-borns our equals."
They had reached their destination. "We're here," Harry said unnecessarily, outside of Snape's office. He had a lot to think about, but for now he was glad to put it aside.
"Enter!" was the response, after he knocked on the door.
As Harry entered, followed closely by his bond slave, Snape looked up from the papers he'd been grading. "Sit," he ordered.
"Woof!" Harry responded, under his breath, as he sat in the small, leather, bench-like couch provided for the potions master's infrequent visitors. Evidently he hadn't said it quietly enough, because the professor raised an eyebrow at him, and Draco was fighting to repress a smirk. "Sorry, Professor," he said, without meaning it in the least.
Snape sat back, and looked at him. "Don't bother, Potter. I don't expect civilised behaviour from you," he sneered.
"I treat as I am treated, Professor," the Gryffindor replied in a neutral tone of voice. "But I would rather not fight with you, when I am here to clear up this noon's misunderstanding. I take it you have spoken with Wolmsley?"
Snape's face had darkened slightly, but he nodded, not saying anything.
"Then I suppose you would like to hear my version of events before making a decision?"
Again, a noncommittal nod.
"I was talking with Ron and 'Mione - Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger-" Harry began.
"I am well aware of their names, Potter!" the professor snapped impatiently. "I've had the misfortune of trying to teach you lot for over five years, now."
Harry clenched his teeth for a moment, restraining his temper. To his own surprise, it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. "Yes, sir," he said, tensely. "Anyway, I saw Wolmsley taking pains to not be seen as he took his wand out, so I readied my own, not knowing what he meant to do. I didn't act until I saw him take aim at Draco. You know the rest - sir."
"And why did you not inform a prefect or teacher, Mr. Potter?" the professor inquired, snidely.
"I'd have looked a right berk if all he'd been doing was summoning the salt cellar, wouldn't I, Professor?" Harry answered, in kind. "After he took aim, it was either act or risk Draco's wellbeing - and he's my responsibility, now." He felt the mix of emotions coming from the blonde; resentment, surprise, grudging gratitude...respect? He was surprised by that last, but refrained from looking at the Slytherin, allowing him at least the illusion of privacy.
Snape gave a short, sharp nod. "Mr. Wolmsley claimed you attacked him without provocation, but accused Mr. Malfoy of being a House traitor, and couldn't satisfactorily explain the presence of his wand outside of its sheath. Your House points are restored, Mr. Potter. You may leave."
Harry didn't move.
Raising an eyebrow, the dark-haired professor looked at him. "Is there something else, Mr. Potter?"
"The detention, sir?" Harry said, reminding him.
"Dismissed," Snape hissed, fuming to himself, then pointedly went back to grading essays, ignoring the two teens. Wolmsley was going to regret making him look the fool.
Once outside the potion master's office, the dark-haired teen allowed himself the luxury of a pleased smirk before once again starting to make his way out-of-doors, the blonde following.
"You surprise me, Po- Harry," Draco remarked.
"Oh?"
The blonde nodded. "If I may speak freely?"
Harry stopped, looking at him, and thinking. "If it's not for the purpose of gratuitous insults, certainly," he said, starting off once more.
Draco nodded again, accepting the condition - not that he'd been planning to insult the other boy, anyway. "It seems to me you've matured quite a lot over the hols," he commented. "You've been handling yourself quite differently than what I'm used to seeing."
"Impressed?" Harry asked, facetiously.
"Quite frankly, yes," the blonde replied seriously, to the Gryffindor's obvious surprise. The Gryffindor Seeker had always had qualities that drew his admiration, but how Harry handled difficult situations had never been among them - until now. "You seem to have learned how to control your temper," he commented.
Harry laughed, wryly. "Not really," he confessed. "Just not to show it so freely."
"That's half the battle, mas- Harry. The rest is learning not to care."
Harry didn't reply, and they walked along silently for a while. Arriving at the steps once again, they sat.
"I'm not sure I could do that," Harry said. At Draco's questioning gaze, he said "Not caring."
Draco tilted his head slightly to one side as he regarded the green-eyed youth that now controlled his life. "Why should you care what strangers think of you?" he asked. "I've never truly had any myself, but I can see how you might care what your friends think of you - but strangers and acquaintances?" He shook his head. "If you're working with them, you need them to respect your abilities, but their opinions of you don't matter."
The Gryffindor looked at Draco, as an idea occured to him. "You know how everything works in this world, don't you?" he asked, almost as a statement.
"I was educated in politics, investments, and such, if that's to what you're referring," the blonde replied, curious now.
Harry came to a decision. "I need you to teach me," he said, firmly.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
When the time neared to meet with Hermione, Harry again gave Draco a choice. "Would you like to go to the Room of Requirement with me? I need to talk to Hermione about all this," he said, indicating, with gestures, the both of them; by implication, the bond between them. "Or you may have the next couple of hours to do as you wish."
The blonde thought about it, but it didn't take much thinking to know he wanted to see how Harry handled the situation with his do-gooder friend. He'd already found that Harry wasn't exactly the same boy that he'd gone to school with the past five years. He'd matured; become more independent. It would take time to find out exactly how much he'd changed, and how much he remained the same. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to accompany you," he said.
Hermione was already in the Room of Requirement when they arrived, and started right in on the green-eyed Gryffindor before he'd had a chance to seat himself. The room looked like a dungeon cell, with chains on the walls, a whipping post, and what looked like blood stains in what would have been appropriate places, should it have been one that had seen extensive use. That it had a few chairs and a fireplace in it as well didn't detract from the atmosphere.
"Alright, Harry Potter - what possible excuse could you come up with to justify such an inhuman act as enslaving a fellow human being?" she ranted at him.
Looking at, and listening to his long-time friend, and taking into account how she must have deliberately had the room look, Harry was struck with how irritating and controlling she could be. Suddenly, he didn't feel in the least like explaining anything to her. "When did you take the youth potion, Hermione?" he asked, quietly.
The teenaged girl stopped her haranguing as though hit with 'Silencio', her mouth hanging open for a moment while she recovered, and then "What?! Are you off your trolley, Harry? I'm the same age you!" she said, sharply.
"You're acting as though you were my mother, 'Mione," Harry replied, enjoying having thrown her off-stride.
Glaring, Hermione walked up to the Gryffindor Seeker, and slapped him. "How dare you!" she exclaimed.
Harry had made no move to avoid the blow, which had made Draco flinch in sympathy, having been on the receiving end of one of the girl's punches. He didn't think her slaps would be much softer.
"Actually, 'Mione, the question should be, 'How dare you'," Harry replied calmly, the white area on his face rapidly reddening where the slap had landed. "You and Ron are always questioning my every move, arguing every decision, worrying about every emotion I show... There have been times in the past where that has been beneficial, but it gets tiresome when that becomes almost the entirety of our relationship. It may come as a shock to you, but I am capable of taking care of myself. Instead of trying to be my handler, why don't you try being just my friend? Oh. And the decor? Nice." With that, the dark-haired Gryffindor turned and walked out; a smirking blonde Slytherin hot on his heels, and leaving a shocked, bushy-haired girl behind.
She was a little ashamed of herself, but the abrupt way Harry had told her off had totally shaken her. He may have been right, but... But anything less, and she'd have likely not paid attention to it, she admitted to herself, ruefully. "I'm going to find out everything there is to know about that bond, Harry Potter," she swore to the otherwise empty room, "and then you'll see how much a friend I can be."

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
"I know that, by now, you have all heard rumours concerning Draco Malfoy and...Harry Potter," Professor Snape announced at the beginning of potions class, on Monday, "ranging from the Imperius curse to..." he paused, his eyes narrowing as a barely-perceptible shudder shook him, "...a love match, love potions, or an arranged marriage between them."
The potions master glared at the youth with the lightning-shaped scar. "Perhaps, Mr. Potter, you would like to set the record straight?" he commanded.
Furious with the greasy-haired man, but sending an apologetic look towards Draco, Harry stood, and faced the class. "Lord Malfoy owed me a life debt. Draco was his means of paying it," he said, shortly, and sat down, glaring at the potions master, who ignored him.
"You mean you forced him to make Draco your slave!" Blaise Zabini accused.
Harry looked at him, then at his bond slave, knowing this partial truth had to have come from him. "Draco - tell them the truth," he ordered the blonde.
The blonde's head came up proudly, though Harry could feel that he wasn't anywhere near as sure of himself as his posture would indicate. "While he forced my father into giving him me as a bond slave, he did so only after I had agreed to it," he said.
"Why would you possibly-" Theodore Nott started to yell, and was interrupted.
"This is a potions class; not a discussion forum!" Snape said, sharply. "I hope this puts to rest all those vapid rumours! Now! Today's potion..."
As could be expected, glares, snide comments, and insults flew the entire three-hour period - usually in such a way that the professor could pretend he didn't know what was happening. With Snape ignoring his House' poor behaviour, Harry knew the man was only awaiting an excuse to dock points from Gryffindor, or give him detention. So for this time, he gritted his teeth, and endured. Then he remembered Draco's words earlier about caring, and decided to give it a try. He shoved his emotions to one side and cleared his mind, as he'd been taught for Occlumency, and found that it was much easier than he had expected it to be. Draco had been right; there was no reason to allow others to effect his emotions. However, he knew that he'd have to correct the impression his dear potions professor had left with the class, or trouble would follow.
At Snape's "Class dismissed!" Harry stood and yelled "Hold up!" surprising a great many people, and shocking one potions professor. As Snape was about to bite a certain Gryffindor's head off, Harry spoke up again. "So now you all think you know all the answers, do you? Well, I have an eye-opener for you! Draco's choice was between this, and certain torture, and probably death, from Voldemort! At that, it took him two days to decide! Given the same choice, what would you have done?" Ignoring the flinching and sharply in-drawn breaths at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, Harry made sure Draco was with him, then stalked out, also ignoring Ron and Hermione's attempts to get his attention.
Draco wasn't sure how he felt about Harry's outburst. Yes, it had made him out to be stronger than he was, but it had probably also raised questions in his House-mate's minds, such as - why had he been marked for torture and death? He didn't think he could bear to tell anyone that he would have been 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's' sex toy. The most obvious conclusion everyone would come to would be that he had defected, or betrayed the wrong person, or something similar. It was too much to bear thinking about.
After stowing their school supplies in their wardrobes, they made their way to tea. At Draco's silent inquiry, Harry shook his head. "I won't trust them with you until I know you'll be safe," the Gryffindor explained.
"Why do you care?" Draco asked, frustrated.
Jade green eyes met gray, just for a moment. "Let's sit, first," Harry said. He chose a spot that was relatively distant from anyone else; far enough that they'd have a modicum of privacy.
Once settled and served, Harry took up the blonde's question, having used the intervening time to reflect on it. "Why do I care?" He shrugged. "I shouldn't, I suppose, but nobody deserves - that. And now?" Harry shrugged again. "Now, I'm responsible for you."
"And that's all?" Draco asked, a little bitterly.
Harry looked at the blonde, curiously, then decided to test the waters. "If you were less...abrasive - and interested..." he hinted.
The blonde was more than a bit surprised. He had thought Harry had been mocking him, those few times. "You weren't making light of me?"
Harry's cheeks showed a hint of pink. "Well, yes and no," he replied. "I enjoyed teasing you, but..."
Draco leaned in closer, so his words wouldn't travel. "You're not interested - that way - in girls, either?"
Harry shook his head.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" the blonde asked, curious.
"No. You?"
Draco shrugged. "Not as such," he said. "Blaise and I used to help each other out."
"Blaise, too?" Harry asked.
"Not really. Just a bit bi-curious, I suppose." At the Gryffindor's look of askance, he expanded on his reply. "Willing to experiment, but more interested in girls."
"Oh. - Did you and he ever...?"
Draco looked at his master. "I'll answer if you order me to, but that's getting a bit intrusive," he replied.
Harry was tempted to order an answer anyway, but resisted the urge. "Sorry," he said. He stood there for a moment, searching the blonde's face, then decided to take another chance. "If it's at all possible, I would like us to become friends," he offered for the second time that day.
"I thought you just said you wanted me to be your boyfriend, Harry," Draco said, with a sly grin.
"That too," Harry said solemnly, an intense look in his eyes, "in time."
People had looked at him hungrily, before. He was used to seeing lust-filled eyes looking at him, but had only indulged himself with one, and that one only manually. Well, there had been that one time Blaise had sucked him off... But Harry's gaze held a hunger deeper than that; not just for his body, but for all of him; his spirit, his heart - his very soul. It was too intense, and Draco felt his face becoming very hot as he looked into those deep green wells that threatened to swallow him whole. "Just like that? I don't think so," he said cooly. "I'm a slave, remember?" He had to keep 'The Boy Who Lived' at arm's length, or he feared he'd lose himself completely. It was practically the only control of his life he had left.
"It wouldn't be the first time," Harry said, somewhat cryptically.
Draco wanted to let that comment go, but his curiousity demanded satisfaction. "What wouldn't be the first time?"
"We're all slaves, Draco," the Gryffindor replied, obliquely. "It's just less obvious with most."
"I beg to differ," the blonde objected.
"It's true," Harry insisted quietly, "although I'll grant you that it's usually not obvious. Everyone has their masters, whether they will or not. For most, it's simply earning a living, and keeping their families fed and comfortable. For you, it's a magical bond; for me, it's a prophecy and a secretive, manipulative, old headmaster; for your father and the other Death Eaters, it's Voldemort. Sometimes it's voluntary - sometimes it's not. But everyone has their masters."
"Then who's Dumbledore's master? And Vol- the Dark Lord - who's his master?"
The dark-locked youth shook his head. "I'm not sure about Dumbledore, although I have my suspicions, but Voldemort's is power, hate, and vengeance."
"What do you suspect?"
Harry grinned, wryly. "I'm not ready to say, just yet." A small frown appeared. "Especially not when we're in his power base."
"What does that have to do with anything?" the blonde demanded, his frustrated curiousity making his voice a little waspish.
"Haven't you ever wondered how he seems to know everything that goes on, here?"
Draco nodded. He had to admit that it was strange.
"Well, so have I," Harry said. "The only thing I can think of is that the ghosts, portraits, and maybe even the castle itself, must report to him."
"A building? You're losing..." Draco stopped himself, dropping his eyes. "Sorry, Harry," he said.
"Draco," Harry said softly. When he didn't get a response, he reached over, curled his index finger under the blonde's chin, and lifted Draco's head so he could see his eyes. "Draco, we've been having some very decent conversations today. I'm enjoying talking with you - getting to know you. It'll take time, but I hope we have that. I said no gratuitous insults; I didn't say you couldn't speak your opinions."
Draco took heart. "Why do you think the castle might have the ability to report to the old git?" he asked.
"How many buildings are as magical as this one?" Harry asked, in response.
The Slytherin frowned. It was a good question. It seemed everyone took the magic here for granted; the moving staircases, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, the multitude of ghosts, warded portals...almost everything aside from the floors having some magical quality about it. "I don't know of any," he admitted. "Not to this extent, at any rate."
"And there are magically created items that are sentient, aren't there?" Harry asked, thinking specifically of the Sorting Hat, but knowing that there were a great many other things in the wizarding world, as well.
Draco nodded, eyes widening as the implcations of what the Gryffindor was saying sank in. "By Harga's garters," he breathed. "But it would take hundreds of wizards to create a sentient object as large as Hogwarts!" he protested.
Harry shrugged. "We'll probably never know how it was created," he admitted, "but it all fits, doesn't it?"
Draco looked around him at the walls of the Great Hall, then up at the clouds scudding across the ceiling, and nodded.
"And with Dumbledore tied into the school wards, it's possible," the Gryffindor Seeker concluded, clinching his argument. "Are you finished with your tea?"
The blonde nodded again. Too many shocks in one day.
"Then I suggest we get started on our assignments," Harry remarked, gathering his books, and supplies bag."
Draco put a hand lightly on Harry's arm, stopping him. "You still haven't said," he reminded the dark-haired young man, "what wouldn't be the first time?"
"That someone fell in love with their master," Harry replied, colouring slightly, and not looking at the blonde.

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

A/N: I thought of JKR's Ministry law against minors using magic, but upon reflection, it seemed to me that if that law existed in a real Harry Potter universe, it would be scoffed at by the older families. In fact, it just didn't make sense - period. I could see a restriction against minors doing magic past a certain level of complexity, since they wouldn't be mature enough to use them wisely (much like driving a car), but wizarding families would never have allowed a law that prevented their children from learning and practicing any magic. Things like flying, simple levitation, cleansing and grooming spells, etc, would be a part of everyday life. JKR couldn't have been thinking of anything but making Harry's life difficult when she wrote that in. So in my AU world, it didn't happen.

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Honour Bound