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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Honour Bound
by Draeconin

See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.

Chapter Eight

"It's a good thing you've a thick skull, Potter," Draco said, sardonically.
That's the first thing Harry heard as he regained consciousness. "What a wonderful bedside manner you have," Harry replied, aware that he was in a bed, and was shocked by how rusty and weak his voice sounded. He received another shock as he opened his eyes, just in time to see the blonde wipe a tear from his face. "Are you crying?" he asked, his surprise showing in his weak voice.
"Of course not, Potter. Don't be ridiculous," the blonde replied. "In the first place, Malfoys don't cry; in the second, why would I be crying over you?"
"Don't you believe it, Harry," came Hermione's voice cheerfully, as she pushed through the curtains surrounding his bed. She completely ignored Draco's instructions to 'shut it' - meaning her mouth. "Poppy says when he brought you in here, he could hardly see where he was going, from the saltwater pouring from his eyes."
"I did no such thing!" Draco protested, face red.
"Alright," Hermione admitted, "I exagerated. But it wasn't long after.". Draco just glared at her.
"No," Harry argued, "just now."
Hermione looked at the blonde shrewdly. Then, ignoring the death glares Draco was giving her, said, "He's probably just glad you're alive."
Harry was shocked. His injuries had been that bad? "How bad?" he asked.
"What did I tell you two? 'If he wakes, call me immediately', didn't I?" Madam Pomfrey interrupted, as she, also, pushed through the curtains. "Now leave us a bit; I have some tests to do."
"Later," Hermione mouthed.
Draco looked as though he'd like to protest, but minding his image, he just got up and exited.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?" Poppy inquired, briskly.
Harry frowned. He hurt, and he was thirsty. He said so.
"Not hungry?" the mediwitch asked, as she started performing diagnostic spells and noting down the results.
Harry shook his head, and was immediately sorry he'd done so, as pain shot through it.
"I shouldn't think you'd be wanting to move your head just yet, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, "but you should be able to speak without a problem."
'Thanks for the warning,' Harry thought, sarcastically. "I think I just found that out," he whispered.
"I rather thought you'd have a headache," she said, cheerfully. "You rather gave it something of a bump! Here," she said, offering him a vial. "Pain potion," she explained, to his look of inquiry. "It should help your voice, as well. I'll be back in a moment with some Bone Mend and an anti-inflammatory potion. How are your eyes?" she asked, just as he downed the pain potion.
"Fine," he replied when he could, grimacing at the taste of the potion, just before he realized that they shouldn't be. Where were his glasses? "My glasses?" he asked.
Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Is something wrong with your sight?"
"No," Harry said, puzzled. "Why is that?"
"I'm afraid that when you fell, your glasses broke. The glass punctured your right eye. We were able to save it, but the healing corrected the shape of your eye and cornea as well, correcting the sight in that eye. It didn't make sense not to correct the other at the same time."
Harry felt a bit lost. Those glasses, or ones like them, had been a part of his life ever since he was quite small. It felt strange not to be wearing them, but all he could think of to say, was, "Oh."
"So your eyes are alright, then?"
Harry gave her a little smile, to reassure her. "Yes. No problems that I can tell, anyway."
"Good. We'll have you fit as a butcher's dog, soon enough."
"What else?"
Poppy had seen Harry in this infirmary often enough over the years that she should have known he'd want to know all the details, but almost everyone else just wanted to be fixed up and let go - they didn't care about the details. But Harry had always wanted to know. Whether it was from morbid curiosity, or for some other reason, she'd never determined. "Numerous contusions - bruises - you had a twisted ankle, and a broken wrist, and ulna. Other than your eye, the worst damage was a rather large crack in your skull."
Well, that explained Draco's remark, anyway. "And now?"
"I'll need to keep you here another day, anyway, to make sure your head finishes mending properly, and that there are no side-effects from the injury. Other than that, everything else is mostly mended."
Harry frowned. He knew the wizarding world had good healing spells and potions, but it still seemed too fast. "How long have I been here?"
Poppy stopped what she was doing, and looked Harry squarely in the eyes. "Three days," she said.
Harry closed his eyes tiredly, then opened them again. That explained the 'quick' healing. He felt a feeling of reassurance in the back of his mind, coming from a large presence he wasn't familiar with. He opened his eyes wide in surprise, at that. The feeling became one of amusement. 'Who are you?' he thought at it. He knew the feel of Voldemort's mind, by now. This wasn't he. And it didn't seem dangerous, at least.
'I'm all around you,' it thought back at him.
'A ghost?'
The feeling of amusement grew. 'I'm hardly so insubstantial,' it said.
"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" Poppy inquired, watching his facial expressions.
Harry was startled. "What? Oh - yes, thank you."
Poppy frowned, and made a notation on his chart. Harry ignored it, concentrating on the puzzle of the presence in his mind. Not a ghost - that ruled out a great many possibilities.
'Then who...?'
'You call me "Hogwarts",' it said.
"What?" he exclaimed loudly, in astonished disbelief - and winced, as his head throbbed painfully for a moment. But the pain potion he'd taken a few moments earlier quickly subdued it.
"Mr. Potter?" Poppy questioned, mildly alarmed.
Poppy would think he was delirious. "Could... Could I speak with Professor Dumbledore, please?" Harry asked. If there had been anyone else to turn to with this, he would have. But he couldn't think of anyone else who might know as much about the castle, or as intimately, as Dumbledore.
'I've never spoken with him,' the voice said.
"A vision?" Pomfrey asked, worriedly.
'Just a second, please,' Harry 'said' to the voice. "No, just..." Now he was in quandary. Was the voice that of the school? He didn't think it likely. It was just a building. But-
'A quite magical building, thank you,' the voice said, sounding a bit offended. 'And...' The voice stopped itself, just as Poppy spoke up again.
"Just what, Mr. Potter?" The mediwitch looked as though she might be becoming annoyed.
Harry ignored her. The voice could be anyone - anything. But if it were the school, Dumbledore would find a use for his ability to speak with it. He already felt too much like a tool in the headmaster's hands. He didn't want yet more manipulation from the old man. 'Can you prove to me that you're Hogwarts?' he asked.
Of a sudden, his mind was flooded with impressions. The foremost impression was that of being huge and mostly hollow, but with oddities that rather twisted him, but not unpleasantly. Little moving things - people, he realized - were in many parts of him, many of them doing magic; the 'waste' magic, and the ambient magic that naturally seeped out of the people being soaked up by him. But quite a lot of him had no people in him, nor had there been for many, many years.
Just as suddenly, the impressions ended.
"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey was no longer annoyed. She was sure he was having problems, due to the head injury.
He looked at her. So tiny. Then his perceptions returned to normal. "I'm just fine, Madam Pomfrey. Just...just thinking. I'll have a lot of lessons to catch up to." It was true, but it hadn't really occurred to him until he needed something to tell her.
She looked at him suspiciously. "No dizziness? Your balance is alright?" She wasn't satisfied with his reassurances, and peered closely at his eyes, then ran a few more diagnostic spells. "Well, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you, but if you notice the slightest thing off, tell me."
'If I told you I was talking to a magical castle, you'd have me locked up in St. Mungo's, and throw the key in the ocean,' he thought to himself. He 'heard' a giggle. 'Liked that, did you?' he asked of the voice. He got a feeling of humourous agreement, back.
Madam Pomfrey then left to get the other potions she'd mentioned. Harry hoped she'd remember something for him to drink, as well. Not two seconds later, Draco 'casually' sauntered back into his curtained off area.
"So what's the verdict, Potter? Is 'The Boy Who Lived' going to continue that bad habit?"
Harry wasn't going to cater to that old behaviour pattern, even if Draco's tone of voice was more bantering than adversarial. He changed the subject. "So you carried me in here, did you? I would have thought Ron would do it, himself. I know he pushed me, but he tried to catch me when I fell."
Draco's face flushed. "He had rather a hard time carrying himself about, once I was through with him!" he said, angrily.
"You beat him up?"
Draco looked at him with disdain. "What do I look like, Potter - a thug? No. I just hexed him into next week." At Harry's look of alarm, he quickly added "Oh, don't worry; I didn't kill him. Pomfrey had him sorted out in just one day."
"So you were there?"
"Not in time," Draco mumbled.
Now Harry was intrigued. "Did you follow us, then?"
The blonde shook his head. "Not until I...felt your apprehension. I got there just in time to see the Weasel push you down the stairs."
Harry was amazed. "You felt it? You saw it? You must have been running all out, to get there that quickly."
"Here you go, Mr. Po- Mr. Malfoy, I thought I told you to wait without," the mediwitch scolded, as she put a glass of what looked like pumpkin juice on the side table, as well as a couple of small potion flasks.
Harry reached for the juice.
"You might want to save that to wash down the taste of the potions, Mr. Potter," Poppy warned. Harry desisted. He'd tasted some of the medical potions before. She was right; he'd want something to get the taste out of his mouth.
Draco was sitting there with a frown on his face, but he had made no move towards leaving.
"Where's 'Mione?" Harry asked.
"She had a lesson to write," the blonde said absently, still frowning.
Harry couldn't ignore that behaviour. "What's wrong, Draco?" he inquired, as the mediwitch handed him the first vial to drink.
"It's the anti-inflammatory," she told him. Harry drank, trying not taste what he was swallowing, as Draco answered his question.
"When I was put under the slave bond, you only gave me one name. I'm not bonded as a slave anymore, but that name is still the only legal one I have on record at the Ministry."
"Is there anything I can do to change that?" Harry asked, again grimacing at the taste of the potion.
Madam Pomfrey handed him the next one. "Bone Heal," she said, identifying it.
"When I was still a slave? Maybe. But now? I don't know. I don't think so," Draco replied.
"As a free person, you should be able to petition to change your own name, Mr... Draco," Poppy said, joining the conversation. "Drink, Mr. Potter!"
Harry made a face at her, causing her to smile, but obediently downed the potion. The taste of this one was, if anything, worse than the first. "Pumpkin juice! Now, please!" he begged.
Draco, after due consideration of Madam Pomfrey's words, said, "It's something to look into, anyway."
In the meantime, Poppy had handed Harry the juice, then left to go about her other duties. Harry made short work of it, after using the first sip to rinse his mouth.
"So where is Ron?" Harry asked the blonde.
Draco shrugged. "Detention, most likely," he said carelessly.
"For what?" Harry asked, sharply.
Draco looked at him as though wondering if Harry's mind had been scrambled, after all. "For almost killing Dumbledore's favourite student," he said, carefully.
"It was an accident!" Harry protested.
"I can't believe, after all he's put you through, that you're defending him!" Draco exclaimed, quietly.
Harry sighed. He wasn't quite sure either, except, "He was by my side for most of five years, Draco. He risked his life for me on more than one occasion."
"So you've said," Draco replied calmly, "but he's also turned his back on you a few times, hasn't he? And this time, his temper almost killed you. If I had been even another ten minutes getting you here..." Draco's face paled as he closed his eyes against the scenes he was seeing in his mind.
Harry was shocked that it had been that close, but he was moved by Draco's reaction to it, and reached over, taking the blonde's hand in his own. "But you weren't, and I did't," he said softly, and reassuringly. He resisted the urge to insist that it had only been an accident. Draco was in no mood to hear it, right now.
'He will make you a powerful ally and life mate.' The school was back. Or, rather, it was talking to him again.
Life mate. Soul bond. 'Did you have anything to do with what happened in the Room of Requirement?' Harry asked.
'I gave you what you needed, yes,' it - she, Harry decided - replied.
'But the spell?'
'That was a bit of a risk, I'll admit, overtaking your friend to perform the fae soul-binding ritual, rather than the transformative heart-binding spell she was going to use,' she replied. 'And,' she continued, over-riding Harry's impending hot reply, 'it was well I did. She was going to try to replace him with herself, in the bond.'
"What?" Harry exclaimed, aloud. "But she's with Ron!" Even so, he wondered at Hermione's daring. If she had tried and failed, or merely got herself added in, or - gods forfend - actually succeeded!
"Harry?" Draco questioned, alarmed. Had Harry's head injury truly affected his mind?
"Just a minute, Draco," Harry instructed, a bit impatiently.
The blonde frowned. Well, Harry was responding normally enough - wasn't he? "I'm calling Madam Pomfrey," he told the injured young man.
Harry looked a bit exasperated. "I'm fine, Draco; just... I'm talking to someone, alright?"
Draco looked at him suspiciously. "Who?" If he was having a conversation with Voldemort...
"Um... You wouldn't believe me," Harry said, somewhat sheepishly.
"Is it 'You-Know-Who'?"
Harry almost laughed. "No, it's not Voldemort."
"Hearing voices, now, are you?" Draco said, trying to tease, despite his worry. As long as Harry was responding normally to him, maybe he was okay, but...
'Can you let Draco hear you?' Harry asked the school.
'I can try. It took a mighty knock on the head for you to be able to hear me,' was the reply.
'Did you arrange that?' Harry asked, his temper starting to rise.
'No, that was an accident. But when the damage was healing, I guided a connection that I couldn't have made, otherwise.'
"Harry?"
"Sorry, Draco. I was just asking it if it would talk to you. She's not sure if she can.'"
'There's a block, there. I can't tell if it's natural or manufactured, though.'
"She says there's a block. She can't get through to you," Harry told the blonde.
"Who, Harry?" Draco was losing patience.
Harry blushed. "The school," he mumbled.
"Tell me you didn't just say Hogwarts was talking to you, Harry?" Draco requested.
"Well, we did discuss it being probably the most magical building in the wizarding world, and possibly sentient," Harry said, defending himself. At the same time, Harry was realizing that, healing potions or no, he was feeling far better than he should be. But be that as it may, he wasn't going to question good fortune.
Draco looked dubious. "And now it's talking to you?"
"Um... Yeah. We were just discussing the..."
"I don't think I want to know, Potter," Draco interrupted.
"The ritual to transform our bond?"
Draco considered it. "I've changed my mind. Even if it's just you talking to yourself, that I want to know more about. So what does your fevered mind think it was?" Draco responded.
"A fae soul-bonding ritual," Harry responded, ignoring the slight to his sanity.
Draco sat heavily back in his chair. He was silent for a few moments, staring into space, then said, "That makes so much sense, it's frightening." He focused on Harry, again. "But what was that about Granger?"
"Hogwarts" 'We have to come up with a better name for you. I can't keep calling you blemishes on a pig,' he said, in a silent aside. He received a feeling of amusement, in return. "says that she was going to do the bond transformation, as requested, but she was going to try to replace you in the bond with herself."
Draco's face clouded with anger before he remembered himself, and his face smoothed out. The continued flush on his face told the true story, however. "It would have been nice to be free," he commented, calmly, "if it didn't mean that it would leave me vulnerable to Vol- to 'You-Know-Who', again. Are you sure your little girlfriend isn't a Death Eater, Potter?".
Harry fought his temper down. "I'm sure. I'm also fairly sure she was only thinking of the bond, and not the consequences to you, other than freeing you. And she is not now, nor has she ever been, my girlfriend."
"Yeah, alright," Draco conceded, with ill grace. 'She would have been, had she succeeded in her intentions. But Harry doesn't like girls that way, so...' He halted that line of thought. It hadn't happened, after all. He turned to more fruitful matters. "But a faery soul binding?"
"Do you remember any of the words? We could look them up. If they fit, that should prove I've not gone barmy," Harry said.
He'd been far too distracted by Harry to pay any attention to the words that Granger was spouting at the time, but Draco wasn't about to admit that fact. "Does this voice say anything about the feathers and mugwort?" he asked, both because he wanted to know, and to avoid answering Harry's question.
Hogwarts related the information to Harry, and he relayed it to Draco. "The feathers are all to aid in your relationship," Harry said, echoing what the school was telling him. The 'listening' quality of Harry's expression and body language went a long way towards convincing Draco that this may not be the product of a deranged mind, after all. "Phoenix feather for renewal and healing, a griffon feather for bravery and constancy, and a hippogriff feather for love in the face of great odds. Mugwort is the universal herb of protection and prophecy, and has broad powers of healing and psychic protection. It also assists in inducing prophetic dreams, confers psychic powers, and increases strength, fertility, and libido." Harry blushed at the end of that recitation. "Her words; not mine," he said, excusing himself from responsibility.
"Alright, now I believe it's not just your fevered imagination talking," Draco said, smirking. "But here, now: If all that was granted during the transformation, then why haven't I got it?"
"How did you know I might be running into trouble with Ron?" Harry asked, pointedly.
"The bond, of course," Draco said, impatiently.
Harry just met the blonde's gaze, and waited.
Draco's eyes widened, slowly, in realization.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
"So how are things between you and Ron these days, 'Mione?" Harry asked, allowing only a casual amount of interest to show.
Hermione had come up to visit just an hour before curfew, after completing the assignments she'd been given that day, and had brought a small plate of sandwiches with her for them to snack on. She hadn't looked surprised to see Draco still there, but her indifferent attitude was a bit strained. She nattered on a bit about the goings-on in the school while they had eaten, before Harry asked his question.
She shrugged. "We're on the outs," she replied. "After his attitude towards Draco, and then pushing you down the stairs..." She shrugged again.
"You do know that me falling down the stairs was an accident, don't you?" Harry said, ignoring Draco's 'I beg to differ' glare.
"That's what he said, but his temper! What if we were together, and I made him angry? Or we got married and had children, and they made him angry?"
"Granger, please!" Draco broke in. "Just the thought of yet more Weasleys!" He shuddered, a look of distaste on his face.
Hermione smirked, then gave Draco a slight frown. That, more than anything, told Harry that the excuses she had just given were just a smokescreen. She was amused by the slight to Ron, but wasn't pleased with the speaker - Draco. A slight frown graced his brow as he gazed at her.
She caught it as she glanced at him, and immediately became nervous. "Curfew is soon. I'd best be getting back to the Tower," she said, as she rose to her feet. Then she looked at Draco. "I suppose you'll be spending the night here, again?" she said, with tension in her voice.
Draco's cheeks pinked as he glanced at Harry, but his reply was coolly indifferent. "It's a possibility."
Hermione pushed through the curtains, and was gone.
Harry looked at the blonde curiously. "You've been spending nights here?"
Draco straightened his spine, and gathered his dignity about him. "So?"
"Why?" Harry asked. He thought he knew, but he wanted to make Draco admit it.
Draco's face became quite red. "It's of no importance," he bluffed.
"Did you hurt yourself?" Harry asked with fake concern.
"I strained a muscle in my back carrying you, if you must know," the blonde claimed.
"And it's taking this long to heal?" Harry asked with obvious disbelief, a grin creeping across his face.
Draco squirmed in discomfort at this grilling. "Look, just drop it, Potter. It's nothing, alright?"
Since Draco wasn't going to say it, Harry decided to put it to him plainly. His delight was evident, however. "You were worried about me, weren't you?"
"Go to sleep, Potter. It must be past curfew, by now," Draco huffed.
"There's still a half-hour," Harry said.
Draco looked at him sharply. "Then what was Granger on about?"
"I caught her in a lie, and she knew it," Harry explained, with a shrug. "She isn't worried about Ron's temper. She's more than a match for him."
Draco nodded, subconsciously rubbing his jaw as he remembered one run-in he'd had with her, and jumped to a few conclusions. "So she really did, or rather does, want you, then? What are you going to do about her?"
Harry shrugged. "Nothing."
Draco cocked his head at him, then consciously corrected his posture. "She nearly cocked it all up, Harry," he pointed out.
"She could have," Harry admitted, "but she didn't. And now we know to be wary of her. I wouldn't' have thought it of her, but..." He didn't finish the sentence, and he looked a bit sad. 'Thank you, Hogwarts,' he sent, 'for your help - or interference.'
'Lilorienne,' the school replied.
'What?'
'Lilorienne. It was my name before I was embodied in the castle.'
That statement made Harry's mind race. 'So you were a witch, and your spirit was bound into the castle? Was it voluntary?'
'I was of the fae. But yes, it was voluntary. I was dying. I got caught by a wasting curse. Your parents saved me.'
'My parents?' Harry asked, surprise evident in his mental tone.
"Harry!" Draco said forcefully, finally getting Harry's attention.
Harry looked up, a bit disoriented.
"Is the old lady talking to you again?" Draco asked, referring to the castle.
Harry nodded, then frowned. "She says she used to be a faery, and her spirit was bound into the castle. Her name was Lilorienne."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Well, that makes more sense than a magical construct of this size," he opined.
"But wouldn't that make her a ghost?" came a new voice.
"Weasley!" Draco spat, shooting to his feet. "I thought I told you-"
"It's alright, Draco!" Harry interrupted. Then, looking at the two young men glaring at each other, he wondered if it really was.
"How many times do I have to tell you...Draco...that I didn't mean to push him down the stairs?" Ron said, his voice tense with the strain of keeping his temper. "I just want to apologise."
"Draco, please?" Harry's request was almost an order. Draco subsided, re-taking his seat, but without taking his eyes off the redhead, and without in any way backing down from him. "Thank you," Harry told him.
"Thank you, Harry," Ron said, sneering at Draco.
Harry noticed the sneer. "Draco's trying, Ron. Can't you?"
"That Death Eater scu...? Um... Sorry. I didn't come to fight." Ron looked genuinely repentant. And knowing how Ron had a habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve, Harry believed him. "Um... I'm sorry about the stairs, Harry. You just - gave me a bit of a shock, you know? I wasn't thinking about the stairs, when I shoved you," he said, pleadingly.
"Yeah, alright. I can see that," Harry replied, "but Ron? The world changes. You can't go flying off your nut every time it does."
Ron looked thoroughly abashed. "Yeah, alright," he muttered, unable to meet Harry's eyes.
"You're the closest thing I've ever had to a brother, Ron; and you almost killed me 'cause you couldn't keep your temper," Harry pressed on.
Ron's head flew up, finally meeting Harry's eyes. "Don't you think I know that? I've had night terrors!"
Harry looked at Draco, to see his reaction to that. Draco had one eyebrow raised, and had relaxed back into his chair a bit, and although he still looked angry, he didn't look quite as angry. He looked back to his friend. "So do you think if I handed you another shock, you could keep your temper?" he asked.
Ron's look turned to one of wary inquiry. "Such as?"
"Such as something concerning the bond Draco and I have," Harry told him.
"He's your bond slave. So?"
So Hermione hadn't told him. Harry looked at Draco. "Draco, would you mind giving Ron the chair? You can sit on the bed, if you like."
Draco didn't say anything; he simply got out of the chair, and sat on the bed. Ron took his place.
"Take hold of the arms, and don't let go, Ron," Harry instructed. He noticed Draco unobtrusively getting his wand in hand - probably a good idea, given Ron's history of reactions to news that unsettled him, but he hoped the blonde wouldn't use anything more powerful than a 'Stupefy', if it became necessary.
Harry took a deep breath.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
"Well, that went better than I expected," Harry remarked, some time later.
"Quite impressive, if a bit barbaric," Draco replied.
"I think Ron was as surprised as we were."
"A bit hard on the furnishings, though, if that's what he's going to do to control his temper."
Harry nodded. "Imagine; tearing the chair arms off, that way."
"Good night, Harry," Draco said, as he settled into the cot he'd transfigured from the aforementioned chair.
"Good night, Draco."

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

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Honour Bound