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“Like any unloved thing, I don’t know if I’m real if I’m not being touched”
Natalie Wee, Our bodies and Other fine machines
~~~
Draco rushed to the great hall, he had overslept and now breakfast was nearly over. In his haste he ran head-first into someone and was just about to snarl that they should bloody watch where they were going, when he realized the warmth blooming in his chest. There was an electrifying feeling rushing from their point of contact into every fibre of his being, chasing the tiredness and the pull that Draco usually ignored, away.
“Watch it,” Draco snarled anyway, albeit a bit half-heartedly and pushed past Harry Potter and into the great hall. Only once Draco sat and had secured himself some porridge did he take a deep breath; with his daily run-in with Potter already out of the way he could spend the day actually paying attention in class.
Or so he thought. After lunch the pull had begun to make itself apparent again. It wasn't as painful as it sometimes got when Draco hadn’t been able to touch Potter for a while, but it was still sooner than Draco had expected. Normally he would be fine for 12 hours before the pull started back in, growing more insistent over the next few hours. After 18 hours he would get tired and cranky; 24 hours and he would be freezing, feeling as though all warmth had fled from him; and once he passed 28 hours the pull would grow strong enough that it physically ached — as if his heart was being pulled out of his chest and towards the place where it longed to be. Draco had never tried to resist the pull once it reached that point.
His run-ins with Potter usually happened sometime in the morning, that way Draco was fine through most of their classes and the side effects of the pull didn’t bother him too much in the evening. Since the eighth year consisted of so few students, they had nearly every class together. So on weekdays, Draco simply waited for their classes to start before easily arranging some sort of run-in with Potter.
On the weekends however, he had to carefully craft scenarios where he could touch Potter without the boy-wonder growing suspicious of him. Thank Merlin that Potter was oblivious.
So when Draco started feeling the pull again — earlier than anticipated— he grew anxious. It stayed unproblematic but very noticeable through the afternoon. However, just as he was reaching the 12 hour mark, he started feeling cold as ice — the former 24 hours effect of the bond.
The bond.
He had been talking with Potter outside the ministry when he thought he felt a spell hit him, but when there weren’t any immediate effects, he ignored it. It wasn’t until he was walking away from Potter that he began to feel the pull. Some faceless stranger had cast the bonding spell on him as he stood next to the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Or at least that's what Draco suspected based on his research.
Draco was almost certain that he was stuck with a botched Magnis Nexum bond. He had found the spell (or as he considered it: curse) in one of the darker books in the Malfoy library and, from what he gathered, it was supposed to ensure the success of arranged marriages. If cast correctly, it created a desire for physical contact in both bond-mates and the touch of the bonded would even give each person a sense of peace, connection and belonging.
That was if it were cast correctly, but Potter was unaffected by the bond and didn't even know it existed, so Draco was left to struggle with the pull of an unfulfilled bond, alone. It had started off slow. At first, he had been able to go multiple days before he needed to touch Potter, but slowly the time between grew shorter and shorter.
So with the pull making itself apparent, so soon after his last run-in with Potter, Draco was worried.
A few days later and Draco was certain of three things: One, that the time he could spend without touching Harry had reduced itself to 12 hours; two, that the pull of the bond was becoming stronger at an alarming rate; and three, that the symptoms had changed, so now he felt pins and needles in his chest — the point where the bond was located — and the tiredness had evolved to being all encompassing, to the point where simply blinking was too much effort. Needless to say, this had only made him crankier.
Needing to stage run-ins with Potter twice a day without raising suspicion, seemed impossible, but somehow Draco managed it for nearly a week. His inevitable doom arrived on Saturday, when Potter left the castle with Granger to meet the Weasel in town and didn’t return until long after dinner.
Draco, driven by the pull, had gone looking for him, but to no avail. His body impossibly tired and cold, Draco took each step to the 8th year dorms at a glacial pace, wincing with every movement. He had been stupid to call this sense of longing a pull before, because now it really was a pull; now it felt as though someome had rammed a hook through his chest and was reeling him in.
Halfway up the staircase Draco collapsed and started crying. He didn’t know whether they were tears of anger, frustration or simply due to the excruciating pain, all he knew was that he was crying on the stairs and had no way to change that.
So it was of course at this point when Potter found him on the stairs, his body slumped against the banister, knees pulled to his chest. Draco had stopped crying, simply too exhausted to continue, his eyes still puffy and red rimmed. Draco himself was only half conscious, the bond having robbed him of all of his energy, the pain the only thing keeping him awake.
“Malfoy?” came Harry’s concerned voice from seemingly far away.
“MALFOY?” louder this time, something shook Draco and it took him a moment to realise that Potter must have grabbed his shoulder. Slowly, far too slowly, Draco’s pain receded and he gained his consciousness back. He mumbled a response to Potters incessant shaking and immediately regretted it when Harry withdrew his hand. He wasn’t strong enough yet, he needed more contact.
“Could you maybe help me up please?” he asked reluctantly and through gritted teeth, the effect being ruined by his unsteady voice and the shaking of his extended hand.
Potter, of course, did grab his hand and pulled him into a standing position. The skin to skin contact shocked Draco’s system and made him sway on the spot, which Harry seemed to interpret as Draco being too faint to walk by himself. So he pulled Draco’s arm over his shoulders, placing his own around Draco’s waist. Relishing in the contact and the resulting happy bond Draco simply leaned some of his weight onto Harry as if he was actually too weak to walk.
“What happened? Were you attacked? Are you hurt?” Harry asked once they set moving up the stairs to the 8th year dorms.
“No, I just… fainted.” Draco answered vaguely.
Harry asked a few more questions, which Draco deflected under the pretence that he couldn’t remember or that he was too tired to explain. The places where he and Potter connected were incredibly warm, chasing the residual cold away. When they reached his dorm Draco felt better than he had in weeks, the extended period of close contact working wonders on his unrequited bond. Harry asked him to please see Madame Pomfrey in the morning and bid him good night.
The moment he left, Draco felt his absence as if losing a sense, though the places where Potter touched him still felt warmer than the rest of his body.
Draco woke late on Sunday with a panicked look on the clock. Potter had left him in front of his dorm close to midnight yesterday and it was already 11 again. Draco’s body had finally claimed the rest it dearly needed, which left him with only an hour to find and somehow touch Potter again. He was halfway out of his bed before Draco realised that he didn’t feel cold, the sense of longing was there but fairly faint, there was no need to rush.
He settled onto a couch in the common room, book in hand. From his position he could see the entrance of the common room as well as the hall connecting the dorms. Two pages into his book he got ambushed by a very angry Pansy.
“Why the fuck did Potter practically drag you to your dorm yesterday?”
Draco closed his book and motioned for Pansy to keep her voice down, offering her the armchair across from him.
“I blacked out. I couldn’t get to him in time.” He admitted in a low voice, there was no point in keeping secrets from her. Draco could practically see the moment Pansy’s anger melted away only to be replaced with worry.
“Don’t you think it’s time to tell him?”
“No, and you won’t tell him either, understood? I can handle it. I’ll find the counter and Harry won’t ever need to know about this!” Draco was adamant. Pansy had urged him to simply tell Potter about the bond from the moment they had discovered what it was. They had had quite the row about it.
Pansy had been certain that telling Potter would have one of two outcomes: either Potter and his hero complex would help by touching Draco every now and then or he would set Granger and everyone else with any research talent on it and have the problem solved within days. Either way, Draco would be helped and everything would be fine.
Draco on the other hand thought a third possibility the most likely: he would be considered a threat to the precious Saviour and thrown into Azkaban, since it was only him suffering under the bond. It wouldn’t be Harry who’d throw him to the wolves, his saviour complex was too strong for that, but it would be Weasley or Granger or anyone else with a (understandable) grudge against Draco.
Pansy grumbled something about “thick-headed asshole” and got out of the armchair, “For your sake I hope that you’re right, but I still doubt it.” She said and left.
Draco picked his book back up but couldn’t concentrate. Truth was, there was no counter. The bond would dissolve itself after roughly a year and that would be it. The whole reason it existed was to help people who either didn’t know or didn’t like each other to learn to get along, so of course there was no easy way out.
He only needed to last 9 months now and it would be all over. Taking a few deep breaths he forced himself to concentrate on his book.
A few chapters later he got interrupted again. This time it was Potter, who cleared his throat and leaned against the armchair across from Draco.
“You feeling better?” Harry asked conversationally.
“I… Yes. I do.” Draco stammered.
“Good. That’s... good.” Harry scratched his neck nervously.
They looked at each other for a few seconds before Potter turned to leave. Sensing his chance for the contact of the day, Draco quickly reached out and grabbed Harry by the hand. The skin contact sent tingles up his arm and the cold that had slowly crept up on Draco again, receded.
“Thank you for yesterday.” Draco said, hoping he had conveyed his gratitude in a way Potter understood. He allowed himself to linger a second longer and let his hand fall from Harry’s.
Later that evening Draco was rereading what little information he had on the bond. He had gone nearly 18 hours without touching Harry that day, despite fainting after only 12 the day before and it didn’t make sense.
‘Some couples reported the bond to be almost sentient. In the case of Willibald Wodlington and his wife Emmaline there are multiple documented instances of the bond flaring up despite the continuous contact between the two. The pair discovered that the bond does differentiate between the forms of contact and their inherent intimacy.
In the case of..’
Draco reread the paragraph thrice. If the bond recognised the intimacy behind the contact it would explain why he had gotten so bad in such a short time. An intimacy bond couldn’t be fueled with run-ins and shoving, it needed meaningful contact. And the moment it got what it wanted - voluntary contact and one partner caring for the other - it had calmed down.
Groaning Draco buried his head in his hands. Not only did he need to manage physical contact with Harry Potter on the daily, no it had to be meaningful too. Bloody fantastic.
~~~
In his opinion, Draco did fine. With his little epiphany came the resolution to become friendly with Potter. He had seen Harry hug, nudge and generally touch his friends often enough to realise that if Draco were to be friends with him, Draco wouldn’t even need to initiate contact anymore. And so shoves and run-ins had changed to gentle touches to the shoulders or hands. The aspect of actually becoming friendly had initially seemed complicated though.
Draco had taken his chance in Potions only three days after his black-out. He had been sitting behind Harry for the whole term now and it finally paid off. Only 20 minutes into them brewing a topical anaesthetic for minor cuts and bruises (apparently the eighth years were trusted enough to replenish the hospital wing), Draco overheard him complain to Weasley how their potion was supposed to be blue by now. A quick glance into their cauldron and Draco had known what they had done wrong.
He had grabbed some of the dried dittany from his workstation and had swiftly rounded his table. Keeping his voice friendly and low, Draco had reached one hand to touch Potters shoulder and said “You can still save it if you add one knife of these, stir counterclockwise thirteen times, wait for exactly seven seconds and then stir clockwise once. Then it should look the cerulean blue you were expecting and you can continue with step eight.” Draco had had his hands on Harry’s shoulder the whole time.
Potter and Weasley had finally snapped out of their surprise of Draco talking to them in a helpful manner, and while the Weasel had begun to scowl Harry had actually looked thankful.
Their potion turned out fine.
After the lesson, when all of them were on the way out, Harry had held Draco back to the blond’s surprise.
“Hey, could you maybe explain to me what we did wrong and why the dittany helped?”
Draco had only stared at him before finally gathering his wits. “Sure. Although if you want to be able to do it yourself you need a better understanding of the basics and the ingredients. I could tutor you if you want? Consider it payment for helping me the other day.”
And so Draco had found himself in the library three times a week, helping Harry with Potions. After that, getting physical contact had become fairly easy and the bond stayed at an almost comfortable level for almost a whole day each time.
November turned into December and while Draco wouldn’t necessarily consider himself friends with Harry, he was friendly with him; the bond was behaving and overall Draco was happier than he had expected to be. However, he had forgotten about Christmas break. Harry had let it slip in their last tutoring session, how he was nervous about being back at the Weasley’s this Christmas. Excited, but nervous. And Draco realised with a shock that that would mean Harry leaving his general proximity for almost two weeks.
“Just tell him you stubborn idiot!” Pansy said when he cornered her, “You’re friends now or whatever. He is too noble to willingly let you suffer now.” Draco still thought that the miscast bond would somehow incriminate him and simply replied, “No, it’s fine. I can go longer without him now. I think the bond is already wearing off. The bond was faulty from the beginning anyway. One instead of two bond-mates and apparently only 6 months instead of 12. ” Which may not have been entirely true, but Pansy didn’t need to know that, she would only worry.
When Harry left on the day before Christmas eve, Draco hugged him goodbye, hoping that it would be enough to keep him going, knowing that it wasn’t.
Christmas morning Draco woke to presents from his mother, and an angry bond. His insides felt as if they were being pulled out of his chest, his hands and feet were ice-cold.
36 hours.
Draco unwrapped his presents with numb fingers and dread in his stomach. There was a buzzing noise somewhere but he wasn’t sure if it was real or if he was imagining it. The bond tugged at him, practically screaming that he needed to go to Harry NOW. But Draco dutifully ignored it and continued unwrapping. Narcissa had sent him his favourite french chocolates, beautiful silk and satin dress robes and magnificent cufflinks. But the silver cufflinks seemed dull, the satin seemed rough and the chocolates seemed to have no taste. Draco only longed for one thing and wasn’t it pathetic.
He carefully packed his presents away and slid back into bed, hoping that sleep would help with his terrible headache.
When he woke up again the sun had shifted, shining bright enough that Draco thought it could already be lunchtime. He dragged his freezing body out of bed, wincing at the feel of his sheets brushing his skin and headed for the bathroom. Four steps into the hall he collapsed.
40 hours.
Draco had only lasted 40 hours without Harry.
~~~
The first thing Draco noticed when he woke was that he wasn’t freezing, he was actually quite comfortable. The next thing Draco noticed was the general absence of pain and then he noticed a lot of things all at once. The sheets on top of him weren’t silk but rather cotton and a woollen blanket on top of that, like lemon, lavender and rubbing alcohol, but most noticable, there was a hand clasping his and something warm and heavy resting on his arm.
Draco’s eyes shot open, taking in the almost empty hospital wing. The windows were dark and the only light came from a small lamp on his bedside table. The hand in his turned out to be Harry’s, which explained why Draco felt like he was in the most comfortable bed despite the hospital beds being fairly stiff. Harry had fallen asleep sitting in the chair next to his bed, his head pillowed on his arms.
Draco relished in the sight of the sleeping Harry Potter before reality set in with a shock, ‘why is Harry here?’ he thought as he shot into a sitting position which abruptly woke Harry from his slumber.
“Oh good you are awake,” croaked Harry, “How are you feeling?” he asked earnestly.
Draco could only stare at him in shock for a few moments, “Potter?” he spluttered, “Wha- Why-.. What?” Realising they were still holding hands, he tried to let go but Harry only held him tighter.
“Don’t. It’s okay, really. Pansy explained it to me.”
Draco felt all the blood drain from his face. “Fuck! I- I’m SO sorry. I-” he broke off and then mumbled, “I’m going to kill her.”
“Don’t! It’s not your fault and Pansy only told because she found you unconscious in the dorms and Madame Pomfrey couldn’t get you to wake up. I came as soon as I could…” Harry broke off. His eyebrows were drawn together and he nervously chewed on his bottom lip. “Merlin you were so damn cold. It took an hour for you to even get close to a normal temperature.”
Confused, Draco looked around for any hint of the time. Guessing his confusion Harry continued, “Sometime early morning on boxing day. I came in just after dinner yesterday.”
48 hours.
It had taken 48 for Harry to touch him again.
Considering that Draco only remembered the previous day until early lunch time, it was no wonder it had taken him a few hours to heal. He must have been unconscious for a few hours before Pansy had even found him. A hand squeezed his and Draco’s brain rushed back to the important matters: Harry knew.
“Sorry for ruining your Christmas. I- had told Pansy to keep you out of it.” he said as he looked down at his lap.
“You bloody idiot! You could have DIED and you’re worrying about ruining Christmas? Why didn’t you tell me before?” And that was the Harry Draco had known for the past few years, loud, angry, self-righteous. He jumped back into their old dynamic with ease, pulling his hand away.
“I don’t need your pity, Potter.” he spat.
“PITY?” bellowed Harry. “Ever thought I might help you simply because I care? You could have told me! Of course I would have helped!”
“Right, because you would have been so welcoming about me talking to you on the train, no preconceived notion, no nothing. Let’s just pretend we weren’t on opposite sides of a freaking war just weeks prior. Even if you did help me, someone would have accused me of controlling you and they would have thrown me into Azkaban!”
Draco felt his skin heat with anger and still he felt the freezing cold creep into his bones again, he was already missing the others touch. He glanced at Harry and saw him close his eyes and take a deep breath.
“Fair point, I will give you that. Nonetheless I am willing to help you now and I am here of my own accord so stop being a prick and give me your hand, you’re shivering,” Harry demanded and Draco wanted to resist, but Harry unceremoniously grabbed his arm and pulled Draco’s hand into his own. The moment their skin touched, Draco felt at ease again. A low sigh escaped him.
With his free hand, Harry gently pushed Draco’s shoulder into the mattress and Draco felt himself go limp at the contact. Soothing waves of energy washed over him from every point of contact. He hummed contentedly.
Realizing the extent at which his touch affected Draco, Harry nudged his shoulder again and said, “Okay budge over, the more contact you get the faster you heal. Plus I’d like to sleep for a few more hours and this chair just isn’t it.”
Draco snapped his head around to look him in the eyes, “I am not going to cuddle with you!” he started protesting, but Harry just pushed him to the side a bit.
“Shut up, you need more contact.”
Without a second thought, Harry laid down next to Draco, their shoulders and arms touching. The hospital bed was a bit small for both of them to lay on their backs and Draco felt so good lying next to Harry, that he could only keep up his farce for a few seconds. He turned on his side, facing away from Harry and mumbled, “Fine, have your cuddles then.”
When he felt Harry’s chest press against his back and an arm snake around his middle, it took all his concentration to not immediately melt.
Within moments, sleep found him and he drifted off feeling more relaxed than he had in months.
~~~
Epilogue
Draco flopped onto the couch and immediately laid his head in Harry’s lap. Without pausing his conversation with Hermione, Harry reached a hand up to absentmindedly stroke his hair. A few minutes later, when Hermione had buried her nose in a book again he finally looked down, “Hey beautiful. You okay? It’s almost been a day.”
Even though the bond hadn’t really bothered Draco in the past six months, Harry still worried. “Yeah I’m fine. Can’t I just miss my boyfriend?” he answered lightly and propped himself up to reach Harry’s face.
Kissing Harry hadn’t lost any of it’s intensity. It still stole Draco’s breath away to feel the smooth warmth of Harry’s lips against his own — to taste him. Little sparks of electricity shot through Draco, making his fingertips tingle with the need to bury them in the messy black hair.
It felt like years rather than months since their first kiss on the exact same sofa. Between Christmas and the end of winter holidays they had spent nearly all their time on this sofa, reading, talking and writing essays side by side, always touching. Draco didn’t know if it was the bond helping things along or just a side effect of spending so much time in close proximity, but a week after Christmas, late at night after a lengthy discussion they had simply sat in comfortable silence. They had sat face to face, only their socked feet touching, when suddenly Harry had leaned over, eyes questioning, asking him if he could kiss him.
With a nod, they were kissing. Soft lips shyly pecking his, a tingling in his fingertips and electricity running from his lips through his entire body. Harry pulled away and without much thought, both of them rushed forward again to meet each other in a more heated kiss. Hands were cupping cheeks, burying into hair and caressing skin; lips parted to allow their tongues to explore each other's taste.
Afterwards Draco had lain in Harry’s lap, not unlike the position he was in right now. They had caught their breaths and had a very awkward talk about their emotions and their relationship.
This time when he laid his head into his partners lap, Harry reached his fingers into his hair.
“So I was thinking,” Harry started off.
“Congratulations, did it hurt?” Draco immediately interrupted which earned him a light tug on his hair.
“I was thinking, the bond will roughly be active until the end of August and that it would be highly irresponsible of me to leave you alone in that time for more than a day.”
Draco wanted to snort, he had just been away from Harry for nearly 20 hours and hadn’t felt a single side effect. The bond was plenty happy with the amount of contact he had with Harry now, to really complain. On top of that the bond was going to weaken considerably in the next few months. He really doubted that daily touch would be necessary.
Before he could voice his doubts, Harry continued, “And seeing as Apparating from London to Malfoy Manor isn’t necessarily a one-jump distance… I thought you might want to stay at Grimmauld with me? Until the end of the bond at least? I mean you are more then welcome to stay longer, but…” Harry drifted off as Draco sat up and faced him. He took Harry’s face into both his hands and looked him deep in the eyes.
“Yes you idiot. I’ll move in with you.”
When Harry’s lips pulled up into a goofy smile, Draco couldn’t help himself, he kissed him again.