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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Honour Bound
by Draeconin

See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.

Chapter Nine

Harry was released from the infirmary just before dinner the next day. The first thing he did was to head towards Gryffindor Tower.
"You're going the wrong way, Harry," Draco informed him, wryly.
"I need a shower, Dra- Oh. Right," Harry said sheepishly, as he recalled Salazar's apartment.
Draco smirked, but all he said was, "This way," and headed for the fourth floor, and their new quarters.
"I remember where it is," Harry muttered irritably, "I just forgot about it for a bit. I was knocked silly for three days, you know."
Draco immediately felt repentant, but didn't allow it to show. "I know," he replied. "I was with you, remember?"
Harry couldn't help but try to get a dig in at the blonde. "Why didn't you sleep in our rooms? Couldn't have anything to do with that bloody great snake guarding them, could it?"
Draco flushed. Apparently, it could. "Damned thing wouldn't let me in," Draco said, excusing himself.
"Really? Because he said he would, you know. I'll have to have a word with him."
Draco still hadn't looked at him, so he didn't see Harry's teasing smirk. His face became a deeper shade of red. "No need for that," he replied. "I'm sure it was just temporary forgetfulness."
'Gotcha,' Harry thought, smugly. He decided to ease off, anyway. "Alright. If you say so."
"I do," Draco replied firmly. 'Damn. I knew lying would get me in trouble someday. Almost did, this time,' he thought, resolving to be more creative with his misdirection.
"Now, Draco, don't be getting the cart before horse," Harry said, teasingly. "I haven't asked you, yet."
Draco stopped dead in his tracks, as he immediately caught Harry's implication. When Harry looked back at him, a questioning look on his face, Draco very seriously warned him, "Don't tease about things like that, Potter."
Harry slowly turned to face him, searching the blonde's face for clues. Why was he so touchy? To anyone else, Draco's face would have looked either totally impassive or, to the more observant, mildly annoyed. But Harry looked past all that, and saw the blonde's angst. Little things that he'd noticed, but disregarded, slowly started falling into place, creating a picture that surprised him. "All of that - that animosity - that bluster - it's just a facáde, isn't it?" he said, more than asked. His voice was quite serious as well; curiosity and a bit of wonder the only hints of emotion showing. He walked back to Draco, and stood quite close to him, but without touching. "It's all to protect yourself," he said slowly, sure of his analysis.
"Nonsense!" Draco retorted, trying to bluff. "And how you can come to such a conclusion from my correcting your abysmally poor taste in making jokes about marriage, is beyond me."
Harry ignored it. He didn't say anything. He simply took Draco's slightly moist hand in his own, and continued along to their apartment, tugging the blonde along, and ignoring his protests.
When Harry exited the bath, dressed only in clean trousers, Draco was still pouting. Yes, in a way he was glad that Harry had seen through him, but he would much rather have picked his own time and place, doing it in such a manner that he had control of the situation, and could use it to his advantage. He'd now lost the initiative.
Harry smirked at the sight. "You're sweet," he told the disgruntled blonde.
"I am not - sweet - Potter," Draco growled, while a light blush graced his cheeks.
Harry was drawn to that blush like a cat to cream. He almost stalked Draco as though he were prey as he approached, the blonde's widening eyes and heightening signs of apprehension acting only to whet his interest.
"Just what do you think you're doing, Potter?" Draco said, trying to sneer, but failing miserably. Danger he could face. He could deal with being tortured. But this... This unnerved him. He had no experience dealing with something like this where his own, more tender emotions were involved.
Harry didn't answer. As he reached the blonde, he slowly leant forward, Draco leaning back at the same speed, eyes wide, until he was laying back on the couch. He put his hands up to fend Harry off, but there was no strength left in his arms. Harry kissed him lightly, running his fingers through the blonde hair, then withdrew a few inches to see Draco's reaction. Draco drew a deep, shuddering breath, eyes closed. "Damn," he breathed. He was lost. He opened his eyes, meeting the emerald ones hovering above him. "Why did you have to do that?" he whispered accusingly, his own hands moving to run his fingers through Harry's thick, but surprisingly soft, hair.
"I knew it," Harry said quietly. "You are sweet. You taste wonderful." His stomach rumbled.
Draco's eyes widened when he heard Harry's stomach, a smile rapidly growing into a grin, then snickers. "How- How romantic," To his own surprise, Draco giggled - then blushed violently that he'd done so.
Harry grinned, his face also red. "It's been awhile since breakfast, you prat."
"Then I suggest you complete your wardrobe, so we can lunch," Draco replied with a grin, trying valiantly to ignore what had just happened.
Ron took one look at them as they seated themselves at the Gryffindor table, groaned, and let his head fall, resulting in a loud 'thump' as it hit the table. He didn't even complain. After a moment, he lifted it again, to the curious gaze of those around him. He didn't notice. His vision was solely concentrated on his best friend and 'the git'. "Harry, how could you?" he wailed.
Totally bewildered, Harry asked "How could I - what?"
"You let him kiss you!" Ron accused.
Immediately, the buzz of whispered conversations increased, as those within hearing passed along this 'information'.
Harry's confusion mounted, wondering how Ron could possibly know, and his cheeks blazed, but he didn't deny it. "Actually, I kissed him," he replied.
There was a short, shocked silence as Ron's accusation found solid ground, and then the whispered conversations started again, louder.
"How the hell could you know anyway, Weasley?" There was a bite of annoyance in Draco's question - not only from this evidence of the redhead's perspicacity, but with Harry's admission of the act.
Ron's shocked expression turned to petty aggravation as his gaze focused on the Slytherin - which reminded him. Ignoring the blonde, he turned again to Harry. "You got re-Sorted, Harry. Why are you eating here?" he asked, rather loudly.
With this news, complete silence reigned in the circle of those who had heard. The Gryffindors weren't surprised, of course. Ron's moaning and groaning about how he'd pushed Harry down the stairs had included why. They hadn't been best pleased, but they'd mostly been beaten into submission, at least verbally, by Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, with moral support from Neville Longbottom and a couple of others. So while there were a couple of glowers at the reminder, that was all.
Harry looked around at the reaction to Ron's comment. "Didn't Dumbledore make the announcement?" he asked, somewhat confused about the fuss.
"What? Was he supposed to?" Ron asked.
"You were in the infirmary, Harry," Hermione said off-handedly. "Helpless, right? Couldn't very well risk his 'Golden Boy', could he?"
The tense tone in her voice had several people looking at her curiously, a few with slight frowns; including Harry and Ron. She ignored them, continuing to eat her meal.
Ron shook off the mood, turning back to Harry. "So why are you sitting at the Gryffindor table, exactly?" he asked again.

Harry shrugged. "It's a crime to eat with your friends?" he asked, nonchalantly.
Ron nodded. "Yeah, alright," he conceded, "but you're going to have to eat with your new House eventually, you know."
Harry looked at Ron more sharply. That sort of insight wasn't common to the redhead - if that's what it was. And that was twice, now. But instead of answering it, he reiterated Draco's question. "How did you know, Ron? That we'd kissed?"
"Your hair's mussed, your face is flushed... Anyone with eyes could see you've been snogging, Harry; and I don't think blondie would stand by as witness while you got your jollies with some other bloke," he answered. "Besides which, his hair isn't usually mussed, ever."
Draco, who had been wondering how Ron could possibly tell when Harry's hair was mussed, as it always looked that way to him, immediately felt of his own hair. It was true; he'd forgotten to brush it, after. "Not that it's any of your business, Weasel," he sneered, in reaction to his embarrassment. He finger-combed his hair, for now.
"Don't, Ron," Harry requested, with a note of warning in his voice, as he saw Ron puffing up.
Ron transferred his glower to Harry, then nodded. "This time," he said.
"Oh, please-" Draco began, superiorly.
"Draco!" Harry exclaimed, interrupting the blonde. "Please - drop it?" he requested in a lower, more intimate tone when he had the blonde's attention.
Draco met his gaze, gave a short, sharp nod, and turned his attention to his meal. It was, after all, a trivial matter.
"So how are you getting along, then?" Harry asked.
Ron shrugged again. "Alright."
"Found anyone to take my place on the team?"
Draco gave a small snort, in disbelief of such a thing being possible. Harry elbowed him, albeit not violently. Neither took much notice when Hermione got up, and left.
"As a matter of fact," Ron replied, giving Draco the fish-eye, "we're having try-outs Saturday, half one.* We have a couple of prospects, though of course we couldn't expect them to come up to your standard."
"No one else would risk their life like Harry," Draco muttered.
Harry heard. "There wasn't that much risk, Draco," he said, defending himself.
"Oh, please! Who else do you know who would stand on their broom to catch the snitch?" Draco replied.
Harry's face went a bright red, and he very pointedly ignored Draco's very pertinent point, paying strict attention to his meal.
Ron snickered, then caught himself, as he realized that he was tacitly supporting Draco with that laughter. "That was a fairly foolish stunt, Harry," he said, unable to keep himself from commenting.
"Well, that was then. This is now," Harry replied, glancing at Draco, then cutting back to Ron.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked.
"It means," Harry said, looking at Draco more openly, "that then I didn't have as much to live for. I didn't care as much."
It was Draco's turn to pretend not to hear what had just been said, or its implications, but his slight blush gave him away. He was wondering just how Harry did it. How did he always manage to slip past his defences, and get this reaction from him? But it had always been so, to a degree. Before, he had usually provoked hurt, jealousy, and angry embarrassment. However now... Well, he mused to himself, Harry was spending a lot of time with a red face these days, as well. At least he was able to effect 'the Golden Boy', too.
Ron was looking just a bit green, and more than a bit put out. "Harry, if you're telling me you're starting to fancy that..." The tension in Ron's voice prevented him from finishing that sentence.
Harry looked him straight in the eyes. "And if I were?" he asked, challengingly. Damn it, Ron knew about the soul bond! What did he think the results would be? He didn't want to be on the outs with yet another friend, yet alone one that was so much like family - a brother - to him, but he wasn't going to have how he lived his life dictated to him, either. Who he loved... Loved? Did he actually love the snarky blonde? On reflection, he considered that it was entirely possible. Well, then: Who he loved, was his business. Ron would come around, in time - he hoped.
Ron carefully put down his fork, and got up from the table. "If you'll all excuse me?" he said with overt politeness. "I find that I've lost my appetite." With that, he walked away, not looking back.
Draco eyed Harry, curious about how he'd react to this development. But Harry calmly returned to his meal, ignoring everything and everyone else. Yes, it hurt a bit, but Harry wasn't going to allow Ron to get any satisfaction from seeing that.
And if this all sounds as though Harry had forgotten about Lilorienne's tantalizing hints about his parentage, you'd be sadly mistaken. He merely hadn't had enough time, yet, to quietly converse with her and untangle the whole mess. But Lilorienne had been there for centuries. Harry was sure she'd be there in a few hours. All the same, he was 'straining at the bit', as racing people were wont to say.
But satisfying his curiosity was going to be delayed.
They were just making their way from luncheon, when Draco recognised Hermione's voice coming from an empty classroom, and brought Harry's attention to it.
"...the blazes you're talking about, Ron! If Harry told you he and that uncouth Slytherin have a soul bond, he's just plain wrong!" Hermione was saying, quite loudly. "I don't even know why Malfoy's still hanging around him. Even if I failed to take his place in the heart bond, I know for a fact that it didn't take, and the slave bond doesn't work any more, either."
"What heart bond, Hermione? And why the hell would you be wanting to be in a heart bond with Harry?" Ron asked, his voice dangerously tense.
There were a few moments of silence, then Hermione spoke up again. "I- I just didn't want that bastard bound to him anymore, Ron," she said, plaintively. "It's not as though I'm in love with him."
"But you would have been, with a heart bond, Herm," Ron replied, hurt evident in his voice. "I may not have my nose stuck into a book all the time, but I'm not stupid."
"I know," Hermione replied, quietly. "I'm sorry, Ronnie."
A couple of seconds later, Ron opened the door completely. Seeing the objects of their conversation standing there, Ron coloured a bit, then just pushed past them, and ran off.
Harry exchanged a look with Draco, then walked into the room, Draco right behind, to confront an equally red-faced Hermione.
"H-hello, Harry," she said, then her eyes darted to the floor, and fixated there.
"Hello, 'Mione," Harry replied, seating himself on a tabletop. Draco sat on the same table, a few feet away. "Have a fight with Ron?"
"No thanks," she said, "I just had one."
"I know. About us," Harry said, referring to Draco and himself...
"There is no 'us'," Hermione interrupted.
"Nor could there be," Harry agreed, "but I was referring to Draco and myself."
Hermione's head came up. "It's wrong, Harry. Not only being bound to...him, but the whole homosexuality thing, too."
That brought Harry up short. He'd known she didn't like Draco, but... "Weren't you the one who told Ron to back off, on the train?" Harry reminded her.
The girl's face flushed. "I... That was then."
"So what's changed, Granger?" Draco asked, joining the conversation.
Her eyes cut to him, glaring. "God," she spit out.
"Which one?" Harry asked.
She stared at him for a second. "So you're a heathen, too? There is only one God."
"So you joined that muggle religion, then," Draco sneered.
"I never left it," Hermione sneered back at him, "I just got distracted."
"Ron was really that good?" Harry inquired, verbally poking at her.
"Leave Ron out of this!" she ordered, blushing angrily.
"It seems to me you already have," Harry replied, gently. Draco snickered, but cut it short, resorting to merely smirking, when Harry looked sternly at him.
Now Hermione was looking a bit lost and confused.
"Did you ever love him?" Harry asked, in the same tone.
"I... Yes," she admitted.
"Then why would you throw that away?"
"To save your soul!" Hermione declared boldly.
Harry shook his head, sadly. "Your god was never mine, Hermione," he said softly, "and I could never be happy with a female. My experience with Cho Chang taught me that."
"You had a crush on her, Harry. You wanted her!" the bushy-haired girl declared.
"I wanted to want her," Harry corrected. "Ever heard of denial, 'Mione? The Dursleys taught me a lot of hateful things, including that homosexuality was wrong, sick, twisted, and so on. Do you know how torn I was? How much I hated myself at first, when I found myself looking at boys instead of girls?"
"They were right!" Hermione declared.
Draco looked at her in disgust. "I thought muggles were bad before, but if that's how they think...!"
"You've been very dear to me, Hermione," Harry said as he stood up, ignoring Draco's comment, and distracting the girl from whatever comment she'd been about to sling at the blonde. "When you can accept me for who I am, and who I love, I'll be around. I hope." He walked out the door, then noticed Draco hadn't followed, immediately.
"I've read a little about your muggle religion, Granger," Draco said to the girl as he got up off the table he and Harry had sat upon. "Isn't it supposed to be about love? Where does bigotry fit into that?"
Hermione glared at him. "Kettle, black," she said, coldly.
Draco shrugged, and started walking towards the door to catch up to Harry. "It's not my religion, Granger; it's yours," he tossed over his shoulder.
When he found Harry waiting for him in the corridor, he impulsively gave the raven-haired boy a hug - then turned and walked on as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"Didn't those muggles try to teach you their religion, Harry?" Draco asked, some time later.
Harry shook his head. "They didn't even want to acknowledge I existed, let alone spend time teaching me anything. And taking me to public places? Only if they couldn't avoid it."
"Do you have a religion, then?"
"Not really," Harry replied, shaking his head, "although I rather like some of the concepts I've heard about the Old religions."
Draco nodded, and dropped the subject.
"And you?" Harry wanted to know.
Draco shrugged. "I was taught a bit about the Old gods, but I can't say I've ever pursued it."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. With what he'd learned of Draco's childhood, he could see how the blonde might be a little jaundiced on the subject. He'd have probably been more exposed to the darker aspects of the gods. "But Draco? Hermione's attitude isn't shared by all muggles. Not even most of them, although the ones who do would have you think so."
Draco turned a doubtful eye on Harry, but didn't say anything.
Professor Dumbledore announced Harry's being re-Sorted to the school near the end of supper, that evening. By that time, however, word of mouth had fairly well informed the whole of the school. The headmaster's announcement only made it official, and there wasn't nearly the fuss one would have expected. Everyone had, for the most part, already run through their initial emotional reactions earlier in the day.
Oh, there were the usual rumours of Harry's having 'turned Dark', or that Harry had only been put in that House in order to spy on potential Death Eaters, but very few believed that there wasn't more to it than a simple re-Sorting - especially in the face of the fact that re-Sorting just wasn't done.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
'Lilorienne?'
'Good evening. Shouldn't you be sleeping?'
'With all these question flying around in my head unanswered?' Harry asked, with mock astonishment.
The school laughed. 'Fae children were much the same,' she replied. 'What would you know? Your parents?' she guessed, shrewdly.
'Lilly and James Potter.' Harry stated, daring her to contradict him. She did.
'That is who he gave you to,' she remarked, mildly. 'The old man - Dumbledore - found you in your stasis bubble spell, and took you.'
His heart sinking, Harry started on his next question. 'You mentioned...Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. They were two of the founders of the school. Slytherin fought with the other three-'
'And left.' she said, interrupting. 'Yes. Quite true. Godric and he reconciled over twenty years later, and were blessed with a surprise. You.'
Harry's mind was reeling with the implications, and his emotions were roiling. He was reluctant to believe any of this, but he couldn't think of any plausible reason why she might be lying to him. 'But... My resemblance to James? My mother's eyes?'
'Your appearance is your own. James Potter was a distant cousin, and did resemble you, as sometimes happens in families. But if by 'mother' you are referring to Lilly... Have you not learned spells to change your eye colour as yet? Lilly's eyes were brown until she changed their colour in her second year. I must admit it was an improvement. But it was only coincidence. Hers were a lighter green.'
Harry frowned. 'Do you know the details of all the students who have attended here?'
'I don't recall all of them, no. One mind, even in as large a body as I now have, cannot hold all that I have seen and experienced over the centuries, but I have them stored in the stones of this place. When you were given to the Potters, I rooted out those details.'
'How? How could you store memories in stone?'
'The crystals in the stone can be imprinted with energy, and memories are energy, as you know from your own experience with pensieves.'
Yes, crystals held energy. Everyone knew that. Everything he was being told, as outrageous as it seemed... He couldn't find a hole in the logic. He had thought he'd found ways to disprove what he was being told, but...there were logical explanations! The only thing left to do was confront the headmaster with what he'd learned, to see if he could refute all of this.
It would have to wait until tomorrow. And maybe he should talk to someone else, first. But Hermione... He sighed. He never would have taken the bushy-haired girl to be a religious fanatic. And Ron was still upset with him, as well as was most of the rest of Gryffindor, if for different reasons. Neville? A good sort, but he'd never shown signs of wisdom or knowledge. Ginny? A possibility, but he felt funny going to someone younger for advice. Of course there was Draco...
Harry opened his eyes and turned over in the gigantic bed, looking over the intervening five or six feet at the blonde. The room wouldn't allow another bed put in, so they'd agreed to share this one. It was large enough that most of the Weasley family could have slept in it comfortably. Yes, he decided. Since Remus still hadn't shown, he'd talk to Draco.
Harry shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep, the image of Draco's blonde hair splayed out over his pillow still in his mind's eye.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
"Gods, Potter! Are you going to sleep all day?"
"Sod off, Draco; I'm sleeping," Harry complained.
"Well, state the obvious, why don't you?" Draco said, cheerfully.
Harry pulled his pillow over his head, in response, only to have it rudely ripped away.
"What did you do, Harry; have a long wank session after I went to sleep?" Draco suggested, lewdly.
"Of course, Draco; you were just too beautiful to resist," Harry replied sleepily, his hand reaching out, searching for another pillow. When a sarcastic comeback was not forthcoming (and it took a few seconds for that lack to filter through to Harry's sleep-laden mind), Harry got curious enough to raise his head and search out the blonde boy.
He found Draco with his back turned to him, meticulously dressing himself. But Harry still got a few good glimpses of Draco's slowly fading blush. 'Hm... Interesting,' he thought, oddly happy. "Actually, I had a rather interesting 'talk' with Lilorienne last night," he said, as casually as he could.
Draco paused, while buttoning his shirt. As it was Sunday and there were no classes, robes weren't required. "Oh," he remarked, rather awkwardly. "You - didn't, then?"
"You are beautiful, Draco, but no, I didn't." He couldn't stop himself. "I'm saving myself for you."
Even though he embarrassed himself with that comment, and caused himself to blush, he was rewarded by seeing an answering blush on the blonde's face.
"You are such a prat, Potter," Draco said, as he sat, and busied himself with his shoes.
Harry was up and out of the bed in a flash, then stood there in his pyjamas, not sure why he'd reacted like that. It wasn't anger. It was - almost - fear. "Um... Draco? Is there any chance...for us?" For all that his previous impulsive actions with the blonde had made him look very self-assured, this was one arena in which Harry was still anything but.
To his credit, Draco didn't try to pretend he didn't know what Harry was talking about. But he was reluctant to answer. If he lied, he might ruin any chance of something happening between them, soul bond or no soul bond. On the other hand, to answer truthfully would be to make himself vulnerable. He looked up, trying to see if, by looking at Harry's face, he could detect a reaction in himself to base an answer upon. The black, tousled bed hair, rumpled pyjamas (cotton, but of a good quality, he noted) which didn't completely hide a nicely formed and toned body, and Harry's expression of doubtful hope, decided him. He wanted this... Yes. This man. No longer a boy. But he wasn't going to hand himself over on a silver platter. "Maybe, Harry. But we've a lot of history to overcome."
Harry grinned, and headed for the bath, discarding his pyjama top as he went, and unknowingly causing the blonde behind him to hold, then catch his breath.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
"So what do you think?" Harry asked, having finally nerved himself to tell Draco what Lilorienne had told him.
"So now you're bloody Merlin?" Draco said, incredulously.
"Huh?"
"Good comeback, Harry," the blonde said dryly. "Don't tell me you don't know Merlin's history?"
"King Arthur?" Harry said, lamely.
"Harga's garters! No!" Draco exclaimed. "Myrddin Emrys, Harry!" At Harry's blank look, he explained. "I don't know how we got caught up in the muggle usage of 'Merlin', but 'Myrddin Emrys' was his real name. Muggles Anglicised it to 'Merlin'."
"But wasn't he King Arthur's tutor?" Harry asked, leaning forward off the couch they were lounging on, to throw another billet on the fire, then brushed his hands off.
"There was no 'King Arthur', Harry. There was a war leader who was called 'Artur', which means 'bear'. But as far as I know, the two never met. That whole story was made up by that muggle writer... What was his name? Ah... Malory, I believe. Something like that, anyway. A good read, but..."
"You read something written by a muggle?"
"That's a surprise? Didn't you hear me tell Granger I'd read about her religion?"
"Oh. Yeah. That," Harry responded, a bit morosely. "Doesn't mean what you read was written by muggles, though."
"I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have brought that up."
"'T's okay. Wait a minute," the former Gryffindor said, his tone changing, and raising his head to stare at Draco. "Will wonders never cease? Now you apologise?"
Draco scowled. "Probably the last time, if you keep that up," he growled.
Harry gulped, causing the blonde momentary satisfaction, until, "Uh... Draco? Don't do that. It goes right to my..." Harry couldn't finish the sentence; he just looked at his own lap.
Draco blushed, but he was also pleased. He now had a 'weapon' he could use, sometime in the future. He had to test it, though. "Right to your - what, Harry?" he growled, using a more 'sexy' intonation.
He barely had time to realise his mistake, and squeak, before he was flat on his back, Harry's teeth gently, but firmly, gripping the side of his neck - and then moving, licking and nipping their way towards his mouth. "H-harry?" he had time to say, before his lips were claimed for other purposes than speaking.
Eventually, he remembered himself enough to make a fist, and start pounding Harry's biceps (but not too hard).
When Harry pulled back, Draco glared at the green-eyed young man. "What's next? Rape?" he accused half-heartedly, trying to catch his breath. He didn't notice that he was still mostly lying underneath the other, or that his other arm was still embracing him.
"I told you not to do that," Harry defended himself, blushing, and righting himself.
That's when Draco noticed that he was still holding onto the former Gryffindor, and hastily rectified the situation. Of course, Harry noticed that Draco'd had at least one arm around him, which eased his guilt quite a bit.
"Um... Anyway. About my parents?" Harry inquired.
"Which ones?" Draco asked, trying to compose himself.
"That's just it, isn't it?"
Draco looked at him, trying not to blush yet again. "Do you have anything that belonged to your parents? The Potters, I mean?"
"Like what?"
"Something you wouldn't mind being destroyed."
"No!" Harry responded, shocked.
"Not even to find out if they were your parents?"
Harry was torn. On the one hand, everything that belonged personally to his parents ('The Potters,' he reminded himself), and weren't just family possessions stored in a vault, was precious to him. There was little enough of it. On the other hand, if they weren't his parents...? "Would..." He had to stop, and clear his throat. "Would a photo do?"

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

* half one = 2:30 (British time. Germans and the Dutch use the term to mean a half-hour before the hour rather than after, as the British do, but here we're using British convention.)
o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o

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Honour Bound