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Bonded Consort	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 33112 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 6
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Chapter Seven—Mischief Managed
“You deserve a larger bed than this.”
Harry could feel his cheeks turning the color of a brick. He shrugged and tried to refocus Draco’s disapproving stare away from the bed. The last thing he wanted to do was think in those terms. “Well, this is the one I have. What magic did you want me to try first?”
“I was planning on wandless, but I wonder…” Draco’s voice trailed off, and he turned his wand around and offered the handle to Harry.
Harry blinked. “You would let me?” He could remember finding his mum’s wand once, and the panicked look she had given him as she snatched it away.
“It might come to nothing,” Draco said, although the intensity of his gaze suggested he didn’t believe that. “Not all wands are compatible with all wielders. But of course I trust you with it. You’re not a Dark Lord, Harry.”
His hand glanced along the back of Harry’s, his fingers spilling up Harry’s knuckles and easing down to clutch his wrist. Harry swallowed, dizzy and half-shaking his head. He knew some of this was part of Draco’s determination to seduce him, and he wondered how much he could trust anything that Draco said.
But the warmth in Draco’s eyes was real, Harry knew, whatever he was imagining from his touch.
Harry took the wand and gave it a quick wave. He didn’t think that much would happen, and nothing did—visibly. But there was a swift thrill up his arm to his shoulder, and Harry sagged a little, gasping.
Draco laughed. “You can use it. I don’t know if that’s because I wanted you to be able to, or we’re naturally compatible, or because our magic is similar somehow…” He reached out and caught Harry’s hand again, drawing to his lips. “And I find I don’t really care about the reason.”
Harry’s head was thrilling and bounding in the same way his pulse was. He stared at Draco, and then tore his gaze away and focused on the wand. “What spell shall I try first?” he whispered.
Draco eased behind him and cupped his hands around Harry’s elbows, putting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “I would say Lumos, but I think your magic is worthy of more than that. Follow my movements.”
Harry tilted his head back, feeling the curve of Draco’s neck against his cheek, and the way his fingers moved gently across the wand and Harry’s. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I would be disappointed if you could be fooled so easily,” Draco breathed back, and Harry thought—he wasn’t sure—that he took the chance to kiss the side of Harry’s neck. “Now. Aim your wand at that ugly table at the side of the bed.”
“Draco…”
“Remember that I can repair it in an instant if you’re worried about it. Not that it deserves being repaired.”
Harry laughed a little, and Draco nodded encouragingly and aimed the wand. “Now think about the power that you have inside you, the rage that your family tried to deny you your heritage, and aim the wand at the table and follow the movements I’m tracing in the air. Reducto!”
Harry mouthed the word and let Draco guide his hands, but he had to admit he didn’t expect a lot of the spell. Thus he jumped badly when magic seemed to explode out of his chest and down the wand, hitting the table and blasting it to pieces so small that they looked as if they had coated his bed with a fine layer of dust.
“Did I do that, or did you?” Harry whispered, swaying on his feet from the shock. He thought he would have fallen if Draco hadn’t pulled him a little tighter against his chest. And even though that might be self-serving, Harry was grateful for it right now.
“You did it. Didn’t you feel the magic that rushed through you? It was like a stream in flood. It neatly caught me and whirled me away, and all I was doing was standing here.” Draco sounded as dazed as Harry.
Harry shivered. “I suppose that I thought—well, that I was still a Squib. Or that I wouldn’t be able to summon the magic to the surface so fast.” He stared along the length of the wand at the blasted table. “And of course, I was always afraid of what would happen if I lost control of the magic.”
“What did you do when you had sex?”
Harry froze for a second, and felt Draco laugh against his neck. Harry said as calmly as he could, “You don’t need an answer to that question.”
“Of course I do. You’re going to be my consort.”
“That’s still open for debate.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned,” Draco breathed, and his hands slid away from the wand to trail slowly across Harry’s knuckles and then curve around the undersides of his wrists.
“There are two people here, one of whom can’t even do magic properly yet,” Harry snapped at him, and then drew away and tried to turn and hand the wand back to him. But Draco shook his head, holding up his hands, refusing to take it. Then he used one of his raised fingers to trace a tickling path down Harry’s earlobe, cheek, and neck.
“It’s something we need to talk about,” Draco said. “If you can trust me.”
*
He didn’t expect the question? No, he didn’t expect the question.
That only increased Draco’s conviction that Harry was a virgin. He’d responded to Draco’s touches as if he knew exactly what they were, but he was still skittish in some ways, his fingers and pulse both jumping. He couldn’t seem to decide if he should relax and enjoy them or not. Most people who’d had a few partners knew whether they wanted to bask in it or push him away at once.
“Can you trust me?” Draco added, because Harry was standing there, immobile, his own hands raised, and his face so red that Draco thought it might burn if he touched it.
“I don’t know if I can trust you to respect my pace and go slowly enough when you apparently want sex.”
“I want you as my consort,” Draco said right away. He wouldn’t allow mistaken impressions like that to stand. “That’s always going to be true—”
“Until I do something that scares you off, or you go back and decide that Dahlia looks appealing after all.”
“I’m never going to do the latter. I spoke with her recently, and she showed more emotion than she usually does. It didn’t matter, Harry. You’re the one I want.”
Harry studied him with narrowed eyes. Draco resisted the temptation to cluck his tongue or roll his eyes. Harry had been told most of his life, and thought most of his life, that he was a useless Squib. It only made sense that he would balk when someone told him differently.
Harry finally nodded. “But what’s with all the questions about sex?”
“Are you a virgin?”
Harry flushed so deeply that Draco thought he had seen lighter-haired Weasleys. Then he lifted his head and shook it a little. “That’s one of those questions you don’t have the right to ask.”
“Well, I think I should know how much I’ll have to teach my consort.”
Harry took a long step forwards, forcing Draco to drop his raised hands, which was exactly what Draco had hoped might happen. “I know enough to satisfy you. Okay? And that assumes that we’ll ever have sex.”
Draco blinked, thrown. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“You know very well that consorts only need to blend magic to have children. And if we can assume that I’m going to be magically powerful enough to do that, despite being declared a Squib most of my life, then it’s going to be possible. That doesn’t mean we have to have sex. We can get along and be bonded and all the rest without—”
“I don’t break honor.”
“You said. That’s why you’re going through with this in the first place, to find a Potter to bond with that will mean you don’t have to break the contract—”
“And that means I wouldn’t cheat on you, either,” Draco continued, his voice bland to hide his growing fury. “Neither am I willing to live the rest of my life without sex or love.”
Harry paused, and cocked his head. “All right. I can see what you mean when you put it like that.”
“You’re infuriating,” Draco said, and stomped closer to him so he could glare at Harry. “What convinced you? Logic?”
Harry’s nostrils flared, but he continued on, “You asked me a question once before, about what I did with Voldemort’s magic when I lost control in a moment of passion. And the answer is, I don’t know. Because I’ve never had a moment of passion with anything but my right hand.”
“Is that so? I took you for left-handed when you wank.”
Harry stared at him, mouth a little open—and then began to laugh hysterically, precisely the reaction Draco had wanted. He sagged onto the bed and kept laughing. Draco hesitated once, because this was where he had no plans, and then followed him down.
He lay beside Harry and stroked his hair out of his eyes. Harry kept laughing until he noticed Draco’s hand was on his face. Then he flinched and froze and stared. Draco just kept stroking, leaving it up to Harry to decide what he wanted to do about it.
Harry shut his eyes and waited for something Draco had no idea about. Draco kept stroking. Until he received a denial, he wanted to keep touching his consort.
*
God, I want to.
Harry could feel the blaze in him, tugging at him, insisting. He’d been alone for so long, and he had sometimes despaired of the thought of spending more and more years of his life alone, except for M.H. Sometimes he’d even been glad when he remembered that Squibs aged more rapidly and didn’t live as long as real wizards. It meant less time being lonely and envying other people.
But now he had the chance. And the way Draco reclined next to him, and touched him, and stared at him with heated eyes…
But Harry still didn’t trust him enough to relax fully in front of him. Not to mention that he didn’t know if they might have something to fear from his magic exploding outwards in, well, passion, even if that magic wasn’t Voldemort’s. He’d never been in bed with someone else for even this long. He didn’t want to hurt Draco.
“Not right now.”
Draco shifted, and drew Harry’s attention to his erection. Harry winced. He’d managed to ignore his own because he’d had practice at it, but this was something new. And if any more blood went to his face, he wouldn’t have enough left to be hard, anyway.
“Are you sure?” Draco’s voice was so low that it was hard for Harry to make out his words, like hearing a huge bass booming from a distance.
“For right now. Yes.” Harry drew the second deepest breath of his life—the first was when his parents had told him they were sending him away—and sat up.
Draco followed him up, eyes so intent it was like stepping on nails to keep watching him. Harry turned his head away, but was in time to hear Draco whisper, “Thank you for trusting me as much as you have. And for making it right now instead of never.”
Harry didn’t flush any more than he had, luckily. He reached out, hesitated, and then clasped Draco’s hand. Draco bent down to rest his head on their joined knuckles, and closed his eyes.
Harry almost hated to disturb him, but his scar was twitching and the magic he had thought of as evil for so long was buzzing around inside him, and he really wanted to use it. “Do you think we could cast some more spells?”
“Of course.” Draco stood up and moved behind him again. This time, although Harry knew perfectly well what his ulterior motives were, he rather welcomed it. He tilted his head back and let it rest on Draco’s shoulder briefly.
“Thank you for respecting me enough to stop.”
“I want to seduce you. It’s hard to seduce someone when they’re inspecting you as if you might have worms on your fingers.”
Harry laughed, and really relaxed for the first time in what felt like hours. Then he let Draco firm his hands around the wand again. “What spell are we going to try this time?”
“The Blasting Curse uses a great deal of power, but it’s mostly raw. Let’s see how much finesse you might have.” Draco turned the hawthorn wand Harry was holding, and he was holding, so that it aimed at one of the blankets Harry often used. “We’re going to Transfigure that thing into a bird.”
“What’s the matter, Malfoy, never seen a blanket before?”
“That thing is torn at the corners.”
“It’s big, and warm. What more do you want?”
“Some degree of finesse. Repeat after me, Potter. Diffingo columbae!”
There was a rippling motion in the air when Harry said the words, and the blanket began to grow smaller and whiter as he watched. Draco stroked along his hand, but this time, Harry was more focused on the magic moving through him, and out and down the wand. His magic. It still made his scar twitch, which was weird and not something he liked, but on the other hand, it no longer felt alien.
Was it as simple as this? As simple as using it?
Maybe it had been, Harry thought, as he watched the blanket change into a dove, which looked around with startled eyes and then beat into the air and towards the door. He’d never dared do it because it might mean hurting someone else, but…
Now he was doing it, and it was wonderful.
They turned to watch the flight of the dove—which didn’t continue long. M.H., who had been asleep in the corner of the bedroom the last that Harry knew, snapped his head up and gaped his jaws and swallowed it.
“M.H.!” Harry snapped, ignoring the way Draco flinched behind him. He didn’t seem to believe Harry was some reincarnation of Voldemort, and Harry would keep holding onto that, no matter how many times Draco flinched at the Parseltongue. “You shouldn’t have eaten that! I had to change it back into a blanket!”
Tell me why it was there and tasty if you did not want me to eat it, M.H. said, and wreathed himself in a circle again, and composed himself for sleep. Harry yelled some more, in what might not have been good Parseltongue or good English, but M.H. could be as deaf as any lizard when he chose to, and seemingly went back to sleep again. Harry took a step forwards with the notion of driving him out of the bedroom.
Draco caught his waist with one hand. “Why are you so upset, Harry?” His voice was an octave lower, which Harry thought was odd. “I thought you liked your snake?”
“He ate my bloody blanket,” Harry snapped over his shoulder. “I know you probably don’t understand, you grew up with silk sheets and house-elves, but I don’t have money right now to buy another one as good as that!” He really felt like raging. Maybe Draco didn’t think the blanket was worth much, but it was his, and Harry had only agreed to the Transfiguration experiment in the first place because he’d assumed he’d get it back.
“Harry.” Draco pulled him in and draped his arms over Harry’s shoulders and sighed against his cheek. “I can buy you all the blankets you want.”
*
Harry twisted around to stare at him as if he really didn’t believe that, which made Draco bristle all over again. The Potters were rich. They couldn’t even send Harry out into the Muggle world would enough money to make him comfortable…?
Draco slid his hand over Harry’s stomach, deliberately not lowering it. Harry wasn’t comfortable with that right now, and Draco was going to respect his wishes. But he wanted to cradle him there, to hold the most vulnerable parts of him soft and safe.
They were monsters. They didn’t deserve him.
“Oh,” Harry said at last, his voice subdued. So maybe he believed it, but he hadn’t thought about it. He’d just assumed he was on his own even if the magic experiments went wrong.
Draco kissed his cheek because he couldn’t help himself, but then went on, “Do you realize how rare it is to get a Transfiguration like that right the first time?”
“Well, you helped me.”
And I get a modest consort, too. Not someone who’s simply blank and doesn’t voice her opinions because she doesn’t have any. Someone who truly doesn’t want to brag about his abilities, even though he has them.
Draco was one of the luckiest men in wizarding Britain.
“And you’re still strong, and it’s your magic, not Voldemort’s,” Draco said, shifting his hand away from Harry’s stomach and stroking his throat instead. He wondered if Harry had noticed yet how hard Draco was from hearing him speak Parseltongue, or if he just assumed Draco was hard from earlier. “It’s remarkable. There’s no doubt now that you can use the magic, and for what you want to. If it was only Voldemort’s and only obeyed his will, I doubt it would have Transfigured the blanket into a dove. Probably some sort of beast with razor-sharp claws that would try to rip both our throats out.” He lowered his head so his lips were right next to Harry’s ear and whispered, “It’s yours.”
“Why do you think I can do this?”
“Honestly? You never had a wand and focused spells before. Maybe you could have done this all along, but your parents didn’t want to take the chance.”
Harry twisted around completely in his arms and said flatly, “You don’t have to make excuses for them. I already told you that I’m not going to forgive them.”
Draco could let his smile widen then, and his real emotions shine out of his eyes. Harry started a little, staring at him with his mouth open. Draco resisted the temptation to kiss him, and just whispered into his ear again.
“I’m glad. So glad.” Because he couldn’t leave it alone, he did have to add, “And I can’t wait for the moment when you want to be mine.”
Harry blushed for him, but he also reached up his hand and clasped his fingers around Draco’s, as firm as a promise.
*
Hestia: Dahlia is four years younger than Harry and Draco.
SP777: Well, Dahlia has always been like this as far as Draco knows, so he's more disturbed by the changes from the usual routine.
Jan: Thank you!
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Bonded Consort