Recipient: dragontara
Title: Magic's Memory
Author: Anon
Beta: Anon
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Word Count/Art Medium: ~15k
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary:: "This is something that actually happens fairly often, except that what the people and their magic want tend to be in sync."
Author Notes: Thank you, thank you, thank you to the mods at hd_tropes for trusting me despite my plea for an extension, an extension for the extension, etc. I also want to thank my beta for her lovely turnaround time. I keep giving you already late things to read and I'm sorry. You're such a darling, really. My recipient, dragontara, I really hope you like this! It gave me a bit of a struggle but I think I got it in the end. It started out as something completely different from what it is now, but I'm glad I changed it because that fic wanted to go in places that were so far off from the marker that I had no idea how to fix it for you. Anyway, enjoy, and hopefully I didn't stray from the goal.

[when they had contrasting feelings]

.harry.

They were young and underdeveloped, uncontrolled, untrained and without a medium to focus them. The first time they came across one another was the day his body got that medium, but a little before he had found it. The other core was like a beacon in the room, shining brighter than any other he had come across and closer to him in days as well.

He was not used to feeling other cores nearby and after the flurry of them that had surrounded him that day, it was nice that there was one he could focus on.

The other core rose and fell excitedly as they wound up floating adjacent to one another. Their bodies stood with their upper limbs outstretched and they seeped as far beyond the closest limbs as they could and studied one another. He was curious about this other core, so warm and welcoming, so comfortable and so luminescent. He wanted to get closer. They wanted to get closer.

He had to settle for fluttering nearby as the warmth of the aqua blue core beckoned him closer, glimpses of an aqua green colouring its edges. It was clear, crisp and just as curious as he was. It reminded him of the time his body was lucky enough to visit the ocean with his family, how the water had felt warm in the night as it pushed and pulled lazily.

His body wanted to leave but he did not.

The pale blonde boy in Madam Malkin's had an attitude that reminded Harry too much of Dudley for his liking. He spoke down on others and he insulted Hagrid -big, kind, caring Hagrid that had gone all the way to the middle of nowhere to fetch Harry and give him his first birthday cake. This little boy spoke about things Harry wanted to know about, and felt silly for not knowing, but Harry did not want to hear about magic from him.

Harry was more than happy to get away from the boy and get back to his shopping trip with Hagrid and he very nearly ran out the front doors of the shop with his zeal.

.draco.

There he was again, that excitable and fiery core he had encountered the day his vessel had found the medium that helped to bridge the gap between them more easily. It was just as wild as it had been before, nearly bursting from its vessel to come to him and flaring all the while. It was fitting that he so resembled the varying hues of fire, full of reds, yellows and oranges. It flared again when it noticed him, dancing and sparking with delight inside of its vessel, shining brighter than any other and calling him forth.

If he could, he would have approached it on his own but he could not until his vessel moved that way, and it did. He came so close to getting more than a slight brush of their magical forms but the Fiery Core's vessel did not reciprocate the movement. The core reached out to him anyway, and this time they were close enough that the small distance they could stretch outside of their vessels was enough for them to touch. It was brief but it was exhilarating and the Fiery Core blazed and danced happily as he roiled inside his vessel like waves lapping at the shore.

He was disappointed when the distance between them had become too great.

He settled down in displeasure and stilled as he watched the Fiery Core. The flames died down and flickered gently in his direction. The Fiery Core wanted to do more than just to float in the same room as him and he wanted much the same, especially now that he knew how lonely it had been before. The brush of their forms had not told him much, but it had told him enough. The Fiery Core wanted a friend and he had found one. The only problem was that their vessels did not seem to agree with them.

The messy haired boy from Madam Malkin's was Harry Potter. The Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived.

Draco felt like an idiot for not noticing it before. How could he have missed the lightning bolt scar? Father would be sorely disappointed in him for having let an opportunity at friendship with Harry pass. He would have to amend that and he would have to guide Harry away from the likes of the Weasley's and Mudbloods that were sure to taint him with their ways, the former already in a carriage with him on the Hogwart's Express.

Potter did not take kindly to Draco's more than gracious offer of friendship though. He turned him down for the blood traitor and he refused to even take Draco's hand. Potter would not get away with this. If he wanted to hang about a lesser crowd then let him be, but Draco was not going to make things easy for him. It should not be, not when he chose that sort over Draco.

.harry.

They circled one another for years, their bodies always in disagreement while they grew ever closer. Each push and shove was an opportunity for them to come together, to explore and to learn the other. He would flicker and he would flare –quick, ever moving and enveloping as much of the other as he could– and the other core would ebb and flow –measured as it seeped into him, slow but thorough. Harsh words were exchanged, pranks were pulled, and competition was had. His body grew more and more suspicious of the other's core.

Eventually his body thought it necessary to follow the other core's body around, although that was not exactly a terrible idea since the other core had been a wreck as of late, weary, worried and wilting. Its body was thinning and hardly seemed to want to taunt his own; so stalking them around school was a way for him to see how the other was doing. It was perfectly fine with him until spells were being cast.

The other core's body fell to the floor after being hit with a sharp, slicing lash of magic and he did not know what to do. It was the first time he and his body had been so attuned and it was because they were both in shock at what it had done. He raged and he panicked and he did what he could, spreading as far beyond his body as possible to wrap around the other core and soothe it, to help ease the pain, to do something, anything. He did not want his body anywhere near the other core's lest it cause more damage.

He was absolutely stricken as he felt the other core fretting and fighting to aid its body's healing. It was a relief when that disagreeable professor with the surprisingly kind core stepped in and helped to heal the other core's body and relieve it of some of its pain. He kept his body at bay as the professor worked, preventing it from touching the body but still lingering nearby and stretching as far outside of his as possible to find contact with the other core.

Never again would he allow his body to harm the other core, his first friend, the only one that felt like home.

Oh Godric, Malfoy... I... Malfoy... Harry thought to himself as Snape worked to heal the wounds.

Harry did not know what to do with himself and he could not seem to get himself to move away from Malfoy and give Snape as much space as possible. He could feel panic rising inside of him, regret, shame and possibly disgust. What was he thinking, using an unknown curse in a duel?

His hands shook uncontrollably as he watched Malfoy's wounds weave themselves shut and his breath came in short gasps as he realised just how much of the water was not actually water. Part of him wanted to reach out, to comfort Malfoy, to beg forgiveness, and to apologise more than he already had.

When Snape finally looked at him, Harry was glad to have already been kneeling on the floor because surely his knees would have buckled at the wave of guilt that crashed into him in that moment. It did not matter what Malfoy had been doing all these months. Harry had absolutely no right to injure him like this, to nearly...

He was just glad that Malfoy would be all right.

.draco.

There was heat, burning heat, and it was everywhere. It consumed and it devoured and it was dark and full of abandon, incinerating everything it came into contact with. His vessel ran and climbed and clung for dear life but there was no escaping the flames. Its magic was ravenous, greedy, and unable to be satisfied. He watched as the other core's vessel flew through the flames as it roared and reached back for him. He was not sure if the core's reaction was what prompted its vessel to turn back for him for it did and for once the two reached for one another willingly and without animosity.

They flew together and they latched on to one another in both vessel and magic, calming and reassuring the other as flames lapped at them and chased after them. He felt safe, wrapped up as he was with the other core, feeling what it felt, sharing what he felt as well. They enveloped one another and together they manoeuvred the flames.

And as soon as they escaped danger and crashed to the ground, their vessels separated and his dashed off and out of sight.

Draco retched the moment he found himself away from the battle. Vincent had been enough of a fool to cast the fiendfyre spell without the knowledge of how to control it or stop it. The idiot, the dead idiot. For Salazaar's sake, Vincent had gotten himself killed and had very nearly burned Gregory and Draco as well. If it had not been for Potter-

Draco was alive because of Potter. Gregory was alive because of Potter. The man's friends did not seem as if they would have turned back if he had not asked them to.

Draco owed his life to Potter. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Death Eater of the Dark Lord, owed Harry Potter his life. What would be done to him if the Dark Lord found out? What would happen if he learned that Draco had more than willingly extended his arm for help and had clung to Potter for dear life as if he was the only person that could keep Draco safe, had believed that Potter really would have?

The Dark Lord had not mattered for those excruciatingly long seconds Draco had flown with Potter through the flames, or when he yanked them to the side so that debris would not crush Potter or himself. The Dark Lord had not mattered when Draco clung to Potter with what must have been a crushing grip as tears streamed down his face.

It was as he stood there with an empty stomach that he realised he had trusted Potter to fly them to safety with a faith that he had no right to have.

.harry.

It had been too long, longer than was normal. He had not seen nor sensed the core in years. Every shade of blue he happened across was wrong, every ebb or flow he felt from another core just did not compare. The other core was nowhere to be found. His oceanic core was gone and his body did not seem to care.

He grew frustrated. He flared out of control. He refused to listen to his body's will. He alienated himself from the cores of anyone his body seemed interested in because he was not interested.

It took him a long time to accept that he would not see the other core again, after many weeks of introspection on his body's part and a re-establishment of their connection. He had gotten out of hand and he had grown distant but not anymore. We did not always get what we wanted and he had to accept that.

The oceanic core was not his and it might never be. He could not sit around causing trouble for his body just because he could not have who he so dearly wanted.

It had taken a few months but Harry had gotten his magic under control once again. He had undergone treatment and he had forced himself to explore his magic, to realize it was almost an entity of its own inside of him that could feel and hurt. He had taken it for granted before; not knowing that some of the things he had felt in the past was actually his magic.

Most of the time what he and his magic felt would be similar or the same but on a few occasions they would disagree, and over the years what Harry wanted and what his magic wanted were two very different things. His magic had been yearning for something, for someone, and Harry had no idea what or who it was but it could not carry on the way it was, they could not. He could not live with inconsistent spells, random bursts of accidental magic or just a lack of magic in general. He had nearly shot a teacup at Ginny's head once, exploded Oliver Wood's pillow and came close to boiling himself in the bath.

Harry only hoped that the thing his magic seemed to be yearning for was not the part of Voldemort that had died inside of him. He was not sure how he would deal with something like that.

But all that was done with now and Harry had everything sorted with his magic. He had gotten it under control and while it had never found what it had wanted they had reconciled and found balance once again. After rekindling the connection with his magic, Harry found that he now knew what he wanted to do. There were more people experiencing trouble with controlling their magic than he had ever known and the inability to control or be one with a natural part of you was worrying and frightening to say the least. If he could help others out of that then he would. So one afternoon when Hermione asked him, for possibly the millionth time, what he wanted to do with his life, he said, "I think I want to be a Healer."

.draco.

One moment he was safe within his vessel and the next there was only a cold emptiness around him. He could not sense his vessal, could not sense its emotions or thoughts. He was not tethered to anything or anyone and there were no other cores within sight, not even his fiery friend.

Loneliness crept up on him, slow and leisurely, as if it had all the time in the world. It settled over him like a blanket, seeped into him and befriended him. The loneliness was there to stay and it wore at him more than the helplessness he felt.

Draco's heart pounded in his chest as he was led to the portkey station of Azkaban. He was finally going to be released and would never have to look at this dank, dark, deplorable place ever again, hopefully never again. His shackles were removed and a wizened wizard set about unclasping his inhibitors, plain bracelets that needed to be expanded to be removed and would dampen the magic of the wearer.

The bracelets sufficiently prevented prisoners from performing any sort of magic by suppressing it and essentially turning prisoners into temporary squibs. It was not at all a pleasant thing to live with and Draco doubted he knew how to properly describe the feeling to others. People did not generally notice their magic's presence unless they were building it up, were particularly emotional or could not access it at all. Draco had stepped into Azkaban feeling somewhat like his usual self and then the moment those bracelets slid onto his wrists, it was as if he had lost one of his senses.

Now though, now Draco waited anxiously to feel his magic coming back to him. As the bracelets came off, he felt a rush of something crashing over him, something he assumed was his magic. It flowed swiftly, pouring into him and taking his breath away. His magic never stopped though. It kept on going, trying to break out of him and reach beyond him. The air cracked and lightning flashed. Water manifested in the small room and flooded Draco and those around him.

Everything was chaos and before he knew it, he was being hauled off to St. Mungo's and causing so much damage that he had to be stunned.

[when they began to feel the same]

.harry.

When Harry had heard that there was a new patient being brought in for magical instability. There were a number of individuals he would have never expected to encounter. It was one such individual that he found himself staring wide-eyed at as he stood at the threshold of their room.

It had been eight long years since Harry had seen Malfoy, eight years since the trials and eight years since the war. That also meant eight years since the Wizengamot ruled Harry's testimony inconsequential after they weighed Malfoy's crimes against his good deeds and decided the former was greater than the latter, eight years since Malfoy had been in Azkaban and eight long years of the man having his magic suppressed by those blasted, charmed bracelets that the Ministry had favoured since the end of the war.

Eight years for me to bury any negative feelings towards him, too, he thought, though he had only partly managed that.

Harry took one last look at his clipboard and knocked on the open door before stepping past the threshold and settling his eyes on Malfoy. The man's hair had grown to his shoulders and Harry wondered when last he had done any sort of grooming; judging by the sheer amount of facial hair on Malfoy's face it was at least a few months. Malfoy was turned away from him on the bed and curled on his side. He flinched at the knock and turned to face Harry cautiously before he closed his eyes and returned to his original position looking noticeably disappointed.

"Morning, Malfoy," Harry said. He decided to wait a bit before approaching the bed since he had not taken much time to adjust to the fact that Draco Malfoy would be his patient and did not know how he would react just yet. There was also the nervous energy he could feel from his magic, as if it was on edge for some reason.

Plus, Malfoy looked as if he needed the space before they started.

"Potter," Malfoy muttered in mild displeasure, not turning to face him. His voice was deeper than Harry remembered - crisper. "Trust them to assign me the one healer I don't want to see out of the many that don't want to see me."

"What makes you think they don't want to see you?" he asked, as he leaned back on the door frame.

"If I have to outline all the reasons then you're daft," Malfoy said, as he shifted on the bed so he could give Harry a flat stare. He looked tired and his hair needed to be cut and combed. It was an extremely contrasting sight to the Malfoy he remembered. "Did you want to see me?"

"I... hadn't expected to," Harry answered in surprise. "It doesn't mean that I didn't want to though."

Malfoy snorted and sat up as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Do whatever it is you do, Potter," he said, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"All right," Harry said, as he moved forwards. He had not expected Malfoy to be so cooperative so soon. "I'm going to cast some diagnostic charms on you to see if the instability is psychological, emotional or if your core has been damaged. If it is, I'll determine how severe the damage is and treat you accordingly. If not, I'll be working with a Mind Healer to help you but your primary treatment will be dealt with by them. All right?"

"Can you fully heal a damaged core?" Malfoy asked, lifting his head and resting his shaggy chin in his palm. He looked exhausted. He looked... aged.

"It might take some time and it depends on the extent of the damage, but yes," Harry answered.

Malfoy nodded and gestured for Harry to go ahead and cast when electricity cracked through the air and sent them both ducking. He could feel his magic attempting to reassure Malfoy's, as it often did with some of his patients.

When they had both calmed down and nothing else happened, Harry began to cast the necessary diagnostic spells.

.draco.

Potter came in about an hour after Draco suffered through his breakfast. It was better than Azkaban's food by far, but he did not have the stomach to eat regular sized portions anymore. It did not help that it was bland.

The last eight years had done Potter well. The man was still a tad on the short side but he looked as if he had started to consume appropriate servings of food, as well as wear the proper sized clothes. Potter had filled out and shed the baby fat in his face and traded in his round frames for clean cut rectangular ones. Draco had no way of knowing whether or not they were up to contemporary fashion's standards but he did not quite care that he was out of touch with those things right now.

Now he just wanted to think about getting his magic under control so that he could, maybe, live a semi-normal life where he had the luxury to worry over keeping current on fashion, if he even had an inkling of interest in those things if he got out of St. Mungo's. Worse come to worse, Draco would have to stay under healing supervision for the rest of his life or suffer through keeping his magic contained with those damned bracelets and live like a squib.

"Not going to say good morning?" Potter asked, using his sickeningly pleasant and utterly fake bedside manner.

Draco would have preferred it if he would just treat him with at least a shadow of their old animosity; give him something vaguely normal to ground him in the midst of all this. None of the guards in Azkaban had been pleasant and he doubted he remembered how to handle that, least of all from Potter. They had been sort of getting along for the past two weeks but they did not exchange enough words to find anything to argue about in the first place.

"Do I have to?" he asked, as he turned to look out of his enchanted window.

He wondered if the St. Mungo's staff knew that newly released prisoners might take offence to the scenery. He currently felt as if he was being mocked with what he could not have. He was unable to venture outside and he had not made it out of the prison before he had been handed over to the Healing staff. Azkaban's windows were too high up for anyone to be able to look out of them and were more for ventilation than anything so he was never provided with the torture of watching the outside world from his cell.

It had been eight long years since he had set foot outside. He missed it.

"You don't have to, but it'd be appreciated," Potter said, as he walked up to the seat beside Draco. "Mind if I sit?"

"You don't need my permission, Potter," he said tiredly. "If you want to sit then sit, and stop being so polite with me. I don't care if I'm one of your patients. It's strange and I'd prefer it if you acted more casual. I'm not used to you being... friendly."

Draco was not used to anyone being friendly really. The Azkaban guards were not exactly welcoming of Death Eaters and the Medi-Wizards and Medi-Witches that he had seen so far, while they refrained from insulting him, did not grace him with anything other than glares. Well, save for one Medi-Witch who claimed to have known enough criminals to know that Draco did not need more punishment; Azkaban and his finicky magic were enough.

"What, you'd prefer I call you a git and throw a few insults your way?" Potter asked, finally planting his arse on the chair. "That would go over so well with my superiors."

"You'd be employee of the month," he drawled, before yawning.

"Anyway, I heard you had displayed some serious accidental magic this morning. Practice wand barely did anything to help your magic focus and meditation didn't seem to work," Potter said, as he relaxed in the chair and pulled out a notepad. It was some Muggle thing that had a number of blank sheets of paper with lines running across them.

"If you're going to keep on being unnaturally pleasant with me could you at least throw a few names at me?" he asked, looking at Potter properly. "You can call me Ferret, or Git Face, or Ice Prince or whatever you like so that this isn't quite so uncomfortable. And I'll likewise call you Potty, or Scar Head, or whatever else offends you."

"Not going to give this up, are you?" Potter asked, after giving him a long stare.

"Azkaban's taught me patience," he answered.

"All right, you prat," Potter said. Draco found a corner of his lips twitched into a semblance of a smile at the familiarity of his words.

"Brilliant, Scar Head," he said. "So, did you want to hear about last night?"

"Yes, but thinking about it, I'll have you tell me after I've cast the usual spells and given you your draughts," Potter said. Draco had been put on a remedy of Core Tempering Spells and Bridging draughts, once it had been established that his magical issues did not stem from mental or emotional reasons. "I don't want to forget them by accident."

The Dampening charms on the bracelets in Azkaban had not simply suppressed his magic the way they were intended to, but had isolated it so completely that over the years it had been forcefully pried away from its connections to him. It was difficult for Draco to even sense his magic at this point. Well, he could sense it but it was not quite the same as it had been before his imprisonment. It was lacking and it was weak. Potter had him meditate daily to aid in attuning them once again and the spells kept his magic somewhat stable while the draughts helped to reopen the connections his magic had with his body.

Early on in the meditation process Draco's magic had refused to acknowledge him, and after that, it refused to let him in on what it was feeling. He also had to acclimate to the idea of his magic being this sentient. But eventually, after many hours spent delving into his core and wading through the mess of confusion his magic had been turned into, Draco realized that it was as lonely as he had been and that there was something it was waiting for, something that it missed dearly, something that was not him. He did not know what it was and he doubted he would any time soon because there was also resentment in there somewhere, for ignoring its wants and its needs over the years –and which was not only the time spent in Azkaban but Hogwarts as well.

"I'm done casting, Malfoy," Potter said. "You can come back from whatever little world you ran off to and take your draughts, and then you can tell me about the miniature storm that you conjured last night."

"I was having another nightmare," he said, before downing the draught. It was light and difficult to swallow, as if there was nothing in his mouth to swallow. "Or... maybe my magic was since I can't really remember anything other than a series of emotions and worries."

He had dreamt that he was still in Azkaban, alone and in darkness with nothing around him and not even a guard to visit him.

.harry.

"It misses something, Potty," Malfoy said. Today the blonde decided he did not need to sit up and would lie in bed contemplating the ceiling, sitting up only to take his potions. "Something other than its connection with me. I know I've mentioned this before but I'm still baffled as to what it is. It would be helpful if magical cores could use words, but I think whatever it is, happens to be nearby. Sometimes it forces these... waves at me now that it knows I can feel it. It gets excited or moody and I can't bloody understand why."

Malfoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had gotten his hair cut and his beard shaved since being in St. Mungo's. His hair was still long enough to touch his ears or fall into his face but short enough that it would not touch his shoulders or tickle his neck. It was more fitting than the longer hair and made it easier for Harry to see his face, not to mention the years that had come off of Malfoy. His boyish features were no longer present but they were still sharp, though in his younger years, Harry would have described them as pointy.

"Give it some time- and I know. I know. You've been here nearly two months blah, blah, blah. I told you it took time," he said, leaning on the window and looking outside. "You're doing well though. Your episodes have lessened and you've established a connection that just needs to be solidified with a little more effort and exploration. Once you've established more trust, things should fall into place; your magic's trust in you and your trust in your magic. After that, the next spells you try to cast shouldn't be so unpredictable."

"And my Levitating Charms should make my cup do more than twitch," Malfoy said, giving him a sidelong glance.

"Exactly," he said. "By the way, Malfoy, I'm going to be away for all of next week. I've got a convention to go to in the States."

"Continue," Malfoy said, with narrowed eyes.

"One of the other Healers will treat you while I'm gone. They know which spells to use and what potions to give you, and you don't require any guidance for your meditations and explorations," he said. "Like I said before, you're doing well but, if you throw a big enough hissy fit, they'll give me an emergency call and I'll come back early."

"Oh, Potter, don't tell me you actually care about my magical state?" Malfoy teased. "Maybe I shouldn't have given you any of those chocolates Mother sent me last week."

There were times Malfoy had seemed as if he had lost some of the arrogance that Harry was used to seeing in him, but more than that, the confidence that had come along with it. It made it difficult for Harry to keep up the hostility he had thought he would have towards him. But in these moments, the ones where Malfoy seemed to be a little of his old self minus the antagonistic and prejudiced behaviour, Harry could not help but feel a tad proud of the man's progress.

"I'm your Healer so I'm obligated to care-"

"Let's not forget the Saviour bit as well," Malfoy said.

"I'm ignoring that," he said, moving to update Malfoy's chart. "And just because you gave me some chocolates doesn't mean you've won me over. You didn't even want the ones with coconut."

"If that was all it took then you would have dated half the girls at Hogwarts," Malfoy said. "And you had one of the coffee liqueur flavours so don't give me that rubbish."

"I never ate those chocolates," he said, grimacing as he recalled Romilda Vane. "And you never gave me that one."

"All right, you stole it then, never mind," Malfoy said. "And were you worried they were filled with Amortentia or something?"

"I know for a fact that one box was laced with the stuff," he said, setting the chart back in place. "Ron ate it."

"Of course Weasley would eat it," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes.

"Don't you start, Malfoy," he said.

"Your friends are off limits," Malfoy recited. "I know. I remember."

"Now, do you want to try a few spells before I leave?" he asked, nodding at the practice wand on Malfoy's desk.

"Merlin knows I need to practice," Malfoy nodded.

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

"If stinging hexes weren't above 1st year level, I would suggest we practice those today."

.draco.

Obviously something would have to go wrong when Potter was out of the country. It was day five out of eight when Draco's magic had lashed out. It had been in a pissy mood for the past few days but he had managed to soothe it before things got out of hand. This time though it would not calm down and had gone into a panic.

There was rain and there was wind, strong wind. It was not just a storm this time; it was a bloody tornado. The Healer flew into the wall as Draco's magic rose up around him. He was in the eye of the storm and everything around him was in chaos. He was trying to calm down, really he was, but his mind was reeling with the knowledge that he was a known ex-Death Eater recently released from Azkaban, so there were a number of people that would jump at the opportunity to throw him back into prison, and he had just 'assaulted' someone.

He could hear the Medi-Wizards making a fuss by the door and he did not know if they were able to get inside or not because he could hardly see through the sheet of rain beating down in the room and flooding it. Everything that was loose went with the wind. Draco was soaked to the bone and he could not concentrate for the life of him. He tried to, but between the magical tornado and the voices screaming at him, it was a difficult thing to do. He could feel his magic lashing out too, distracting him to no end as it kept everyone at bay. It was irritated and frustrated and... yearning for something. Honestly, it was confused and nothing he tried seemed to soothe it. Lightning struck and thunder clapped and Draco hoped that no one got hit with it.

For a moment, Draco thought he could feel his magic being reigned in or subdued, and the storm around him faltering, but then everything came back full force. He tried to ignore everything around him, closed his eyes and hoped to Merlin that he would be able get through to his magic and get a hold on things. He did not get to find out if he could though, not with the external forces that finally managed to get him under control.

Draco could have sworn that he felt his magic begin to yield. The tornado dissipated and all that was left was a mild storm. His magic felt relieved for some reason, but still... upset. A hand came down on his and everything stopped as his magic relaxed, reassured but still somewhat tremulous. The storm broke and Draco gasped at the sudden change. His magic had what it was looking for and the storm he had felt inside of him was now a giddy sort of thing.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Potter had come back.

"It's fine now. I'm here. You all right, Malfoy?" Potter asked urgently, his hair clinging to his face from the rain.

"I um... I'm fine," he said, nodding. He glanced around the dishevelled room. "The Healer and Medi-Wizards?"

"The Healer's a bit banged up but everyone's basically fine," Potter said, looking him over. "No serious injuries, them or you. Now, what happ-"

The moment Potter's hands left Draco his magic started up again, sparking around the room in distress. He quickly grabbed Potter's hand and, as before, his magic settled.

"Wh-" Potter started. Draco did not know if the other man had felt it but he looked as if he had.

"I told you my magic missed something," he said, before swallowing. "I hate to say it, but I think it was you."

"Wh- This doesn't make any sense. I've been around you every day for months," Potter said.

"Except the last few days," he pointed out. "And I don't think it's really you it's interested in. It's your magic."

"You've got to be kidding me..." Potter said. "Honestly, of all the things."

.harry.

"What's going on, Potter?" Malfoy asked impatiently. "And why are you so problematic for me?"

"As if you don't cause any problems either," he muttered.

Harry had been having a perfectly fine time at the convention learning about new Healing methods and watching pensieve memories of the processes. He had been about to go to a bakery with a fellow representative to be treated to something sweet during their free time since it was his birthday and he was perfectly allowed to be spoiled rotten by the looker from the Trauma Department -never mind that his magic had sort of been nagging at him. It tended to do that regardless of who he was on a date with. But obviously Malfoy would have to be the patient that got him called away while his cheesecake was a millimetre away from his mouth and then put an end to all that.

"Explain, Pot Head," Malfoy prompted. The blonde's name calling earned Harry an appalled look from one of the Medi-Wizards cleaning up the mess in the room.

"He didn't mean it that way," he said quickly, before looking at Malfoy incredulously and hoping that no one decided to take Malfoy's words literally and run off to the Daily Prophet. "Anyway, judging from what's happened, I can only assume that, aside from having adverse reactions to the Dampening Charms Azkaban used, your magic has some sort of... attachment to mine. This happens more often than-"

"Attachment?" Malfoy asked, his fingers twitching around Harry's wrist.

"I was getting to that," he muttered. Harry glanced at the hand on his wrist and sighed. "This is something that actually happens fairly often, except that what the people and their magic want tend to be in sync.

"Some people have a magical compatibility that's high enough for their magic to form an attachment. In some cases, the pull is enough for that attachment to become attraction and, in the event that compatibility is high enough, for that attraction to form a bond. Now, I'm not saying that we're bonded. For all I know, your magic might just have been torturously lonely and in need of... company or companionship. But I'm making you aware of the possibility, especially since there was a particularly strong reaction in both of us earlier."

"Both of us?" Malfoy repeated. It did not look like he had expected that last bit at all.

"I'll call one of the Healers in to determine the extent of the connection," a Medi-Witch nearby said, she had been the one drying Malfoy's clothes, hair and bed.

Harry nodded at her and murmured his thanks before she left.

Now that he had explained the situation to Malfoy, he was beginning to worry about the way his magic had needed to comfort Malfoy's. The way his magic had acted out years ago flashed in his mind and the yearning he had forgotten about began to ease, which meant that this had been going on for longer than they knew. Harry hoped he was wrong about just how long ago his and Malfoy's magic had formed a connection.

Harry sat on the now dry bed and sighed. He closed his eyes and felt out the state of his magic. It was spreading so far outside of him that he thought he could feel Malfoy's magic and understand now why the man had used waves to describe it before, and why it manifested with so much bloody water. He could feel the ebb and flow of it and it was reminiscent of a tide. The two felt, well his magic was making an effort to support Malfoy's and Malfoy's magic seemed to be clinging to his fairly tightly.

"Can you feel it?" he asked.

"How ridiculously relieved my magic is?" Malfoy muttered, barely glancing at Harry as he took a seat. "Yes."

"No, I meant how close our magic is right now," he clarified.

Malfoy stiffened for a moment before relaxing and closing his eyes. "I can't," he said quietly, after a few moments. "How long do we have to keep in contact?"

"I honestly don't know," he admitted, looking at Malfoy's hand on him. "Depends on our magic or if we can convince them that we aren't going anywhere. I think yours might have panicked at being separated from mine for so many days after they'd been around one another nearly every day since your admittance."

Malfoy let out a tired sigh and flopped back onto the bed. "This is brilliant," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I really shouldn't have let you have those chocolates."

.draco.

It was lunch time when Draco received his latest owl from Potter. His new Healer, Healer Ryan, had suggested that he and Potter discontinue physical contact but still communicate in some way. It was supposed to force their magic to pay as much attention to them as they did to their magic, well Draco mostly. It would also allow his magic the opportunity to redevelop some independence and prevent it from lapsing into co-dependency once his treatment was over.

Draco tore off a piece of bread from his sandwich and fed it to the owl before sending it away. His magic niggled at him to read it but he told it to calm down and continued to eat his food. He was not about to put off his lunch just for Potter. It likely was not a life or death situation and his magic needed to cut down on its eagerness. It was a letter and he could read it when he felt like it. Though with the way his magic poked at him he thought he might end up starting the letter sooner than intended. He was still going to finish his lunch though, that he would be adamant about.

With no small amount of contempt, Draco's magic conceded. It caused a discontent rumbling in the room before sulking quietly, staying uncomfortably still. He rolled his eyes and kept on eating.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Healer Ryan said a bit too cheerfully, as he stepped into the room. The man had cropped auburn hair, brown eyes and face that lacked any distinguishing features. He honestly did not look the part of such an energetic person. "Guess what I was owled? I'll bet Potter already told you. You two have been writing a lot these days. I've got your wand! I'll wait until you're done eating though, but I'm curious so hurry up."

Draco reckoned he knew what was in Potter's letter now.

"Curiosity killed the kneazle, Healer" he said, grateful that unlike Azkaban, the St. Mungo's staff, those that he had been exposed to at least, would allow him to finish his meals rather than interrupt them.

"Well, now that you mention it, I did have a pet kneazle as a child," Healer Ryan said, taking a seat. "Always thought it ran away from me but maybe you're on to something. That'd be a real shame though..."

"You're a strange one," he said.

"I think most the Healers in this department have their quirks," Healer Ryan smiled. "For me, I think I'm overenthusiastic. Or so I've been told."

"You don't say," he muttered.

"Hurry with that last bite then," Healer Ryan urged, as he placed a wand box on the table.

Upon seeing it, Draco felt his stomach knot and his nerves rise. He could not quite bring himself to finish the sandwich so he set it down and pushed his tray aside. His magic picked up on what was happening and it felt like an excited tide within him. He took the box and stared at it anxiously.

"Now, you can have any number of reactions when you take hold of it. And don't forget that Potter's had ownership of your wand for nearly a decade. There may be traces of his magic left over and it could either aid or hinder how the wand receives you," Healer Ryan explained. "This could be absolutely brilliant or plain old anticlimactic or terribly catastrophic. Any one of those really."

Draco sent a glare in the healer's direction at that. As if he had not already been nervous about this. He opened the box and inhaled sharply when he saw his wand. It had been eight years since he had laid eyes on it and it looked just as he remembered. Potter must have cleaned it for him because he had half expected it to be worn and dusty after probably being tucked away in some corner of the man's house.

Inside of him, his magic fidgeted nervously and for once they were on precisely the same page. Draco reached for his wand and tentatively touched a finger to it. The air around him swirled and he gasped as he felt the wand's core connect with his own. He could feel the lingering traces of Potter's magic burning inside his wand but it did nothing to hinder him, instead his magic clung to it and his wand seemed to recognize and accept the relationship between the two.

Draco and his magic were ecstatic. The entire situation had played out far better than he had anticipated considering the way his life had been going. When he finally remembered that Healer Ryan was in the room, he looked up to see the man jotting down notes and looking around, his eyes darting every which way.

"What happened?" he asked, turning his head. "Is that-"

He was not sure what exactly he was seeing but it was both warm and cool. It was a colourful thing and it faded before he could fully understand it. The word that came to mind was 'aura'.

"Well, I theorized a lot of things happening but not a visual manifestation of your magic mingling with Healer Potter's. Your magic's relationship is stronger than I originally thought, but I think I established that after speaking with Potter," Healer Ryan grinned. "Oh, this is exciting. I am definitely a happy healer."

And I am a more than happy wizard, Draco thought, gripping his wand and feeling the magic thrum contentedly in his palm.

His reunion with his wand overpowered any issues Draco might have had with hearing that his and Potter's magic were closer. He had already resigned himself to the idea of their magic forming a bond so it was not of much concern to him, not to mention that someone had leaked information to the papers and it was already being spun as a confirmed bonding. At least his mail was being filtered well enough to keep all the owls from distraught Potter fans out of his room.

Draco had thought about it all the previous night and had decided that he could not be bothered to hold a grudge about winding up with Potter, for he could easily imagine himself having wound up in this situation with someone that despised him for his past and who would take advantage of his magic's dependency on them.

Potter did not seem the type to do that and he did not seem as if he would resent Draco for the situation they'd found themselves in. In fact, based on their owls, the pair of them had been getting on rather well. Draco even looked forwards to writing Potter.

.harry.

For the fifth time during his lunch break, Harry found himself walking up to Malfoy's door. He let out a quiet, exasperated sigh and rested his head on the wall. Ryan had not given him the go ahead to visit Malfoy just yet but he was itching to see the man, and it was not simply due to his magic. Harry had gotten into the habit of enjoying the letters he and Malfoy exchanged and wanted something more than ink on parchment. He wanted words carried on air. He wanted to know if the expressions he fancied thinking Malfoy would have were correct. He wanted the loneliness that had begun to creep up on him to burn away the way he knew it would when he got to see Malfoy because he and his magic were close enough again for their wants and needs to be the same, and right now those were Malfoy.

Eventually, after many a deep breath, Harry managed to step away and carry on with his day. He ignored the occasional scowls he received from new healers or trainees that did not fully understand the mechanics of magical relationships as yet -not that they were fully understood by anyone really- and continued to think he could have chosen someone other than Malfoy. Harry had had to explain, on far too many occasions, that magic was alive and, to an extent, had its own agency –much like wands. It was as if some of the staff had forgotten what they had learned in school or simply had not believed it. Harry had decided to treat those people much like the media; he owed them no explanations so he gave them none.

Harry went to cafeteria to grab a chocolate frog and bottle of water before his break ended and spotted Healer Ryan sleeping at a table. He walked over and prodded the man in his side a few times before Ryan finally got up, jumping in his seat and yelping.

"I'm awake! I wasn't sleeping! I'm not tired!" Ryan yelled quickly, eyes darting around. "Oh, Potter, it's just you. What time is it?"

"Two twenty," he said, smirking at Ryan's outburst. "Have you been expending too much energy on your cases again? You know Clearwater's been on you about that."

"Shhhhh," Ryan hissed, waving his hands around and looking behind him. "Don't say that. You know how sneaky she is. I'm surprised she hasn't noticed yet."

"When you start drinking too much Wide-Eye Potion, she'll notice," he chuckled, rising. "Anyway, we've got about four minutes 'til our lunch is over."

"It's Thursday, isn't it? Not Wednesday?" Ryan asked. "Damn it."

"You sure you aren't already taking too many of those potions?" he asked, finally checking Ryan's pallor. He looked to be fine.

"I'm sure, and I'm still functional so shut it," Ryan yawned, getting out his seat and collecting the notes he had been dozing on top of. "Oh, hey, I reckon you can visit Malfoy now. He's doing fairly well with his spells; a few of them are still tricky. And he's been seeing his mum too and his magic's recognised her. There haven't been any magical tantrums either, just a few moments when Malfoy clams up but then his magic finds a way to hint at things for me. He probably told you most of that already though. I've noticed you two writing more. His stack of letters is getting pretty high. You any more on board with what your magic wants yet?"

"I don't see how that's your business," he smiled, heading out of the cafeteria. Maybe he could stop by Malfoy's room at the end of his shift.

"So you are?" Ryan asked.

"It still isn't your business," he said.

"I knew it," Ryan grinned. "Those letters were useful in more ways than one!"

"You like to meddle, don't you?" he sighed.

"How can I have seen two magical cores so clearly attached and not do something?" Ryan asked.

"Oh Godric, you're a hopeless romantic," he said. "I'm seeing you in a different light now. I'll bet you're the clingy sort of lover that asks too many questions."

"That hurts, Potter," Ryan said. "That hurts because you're right. And I'm unwillingly single because of it, well... it and the hours I keep with this job. But I can't help it! I just need to know things."

"You sound like Hermione. But I can get behind you on the job thing. Anyway, I'm going this way," he said, turning down a corridor. "And I'm guessing you'll want to be there when I see Malfoy?"

"Yep. Oh, and Potter," Ryan called. "I'm discharging him soon. I suppose he'll tell you when after I see him. Give you two something to write about."

"Yeah?" he asked.

He wondered where the first place Malfoy wanted to visit would be. From what Malfoy had written him, it seemed he would be perfectly fine with just stepping outside so long as it was outside, and from the fire he felt in his core, his magic would love to be there for it.

"Yeah," Ryan nodded. "What's with that look? Want to take him home with you?"

"That's a bit sudden, don't you think?" he laughed. The idea of moving Malfoy in with him was frightening to him but him magic danced beneath his skin at the suggestion, warming him up to the idea.

"Hopeless romantic!" Ryan said, pointing at himself. "Remember? And I've no life so I need to live vicariously through others."

"More like sleep deprived loon," he corrected. "And you should visit Janus Thickey when your shift is done. I recommend it."

"No, nope. They'll never let me out once I go in."

.draco.

"Draco," Healer Ryan called, in that voice he tended to use when he expected to learn something interesting. "Guess who I just found? Actually I ran into him in the hallway but that doesn't really-"

"Ryan," he interrupted, putting his wand aside and turning in his seat.

"Potter! I've got Potter," Ryan said, holding his arms out to the door. "Stop looking at me like that and get in here."

Potter stepped into the room and Draco had to gasp at the way his magic rose within him and spread out of him. Potter stopped and blinked in surprise, his hands flying to his chest and stomach, the areas one most felt their magic.

"Maybe we should all take a moment to quell our magic so things don't get out of hand," Ryan said, watching them eagerly. "And so I don't get hit with uncontrolled magic..."

Draco closed his eyes and willed his magic to take it down a notch, or three. He enjoyed the way it swam through him but reminded it that this would not be the only opportunity to see Potter or be near him. He thought of the letters on his desk and the words exchanged between them and found that his magic relented at the memories; realising there was no need for urgency. They had time. This would not be the last Draco saw of him.

On the other side of the room, Draco could hear Potter breathing, taking deep breaths and releasing them slowly before he uttered a nearly calm, "Hi, Ferret."

"Scar Head," he nodded, opening his eyes. Draco felt surprisingly breathless and his fingers itched to reach out and touch the man. It was strange how close he wanted to be to Potter because Draco had never once acted on his inclination towards men. He had gone through Hogwarts willing to bear an heir for the Malfoy line and tolerating a relationship with Pansy to convince himself that he could.

"Well, that was more overwhelming than I thought it would be," Potter said, his face flushed. He turned to Ryan then. "Um, should I...?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes. Go on," Ryan nodded. "Just ignore me. I'll run out once I've gotten the data I need. You won't even notice me."

With that, Potter moved further into the room and headed for the seat across from Draco. Draco could feel the air shifting around them as Potter approached and had to swallow at the heaviness of it. His magic was eager but willing to restrain itself, to keep in control. It was just as aware as he was that losing control would be dangerous.

Draco found himself relaxing once Potter was seated, the tension that both he and his magic held slipping away a bit. So far so good, he thought.

"So, were you serious when you said you haven't been able to pull anyone recently, or was that sarcasm?" he asked, saying the first thing that had come to mind. "I couldn't quite tell."

"Of course that'd be the first thing you asked me," Potter said with a chuckle. "It wasn't sarcasm. I quite literally haven't been able to. It is rather frustrating."

"Tell me about it," Ryan muttered to himself. "Sorry, carry on."

"Anyway, I stopped trying," Potter said. "I'm rather on the same page as my magic now."

"Again, I'm flattered to have affected you so," he said, eyeing Potter. He really could have done worse. Potter was easy on the eyes and, regardless of a few disputes on opinion, easy to get along with.

"Did you ever owl Parkinson?" Potter asked. "I know you wanted to."

It was true that Draco had considered writing to Pansy to see how she was and telling her that he had missed her for many of his years in Azkaban, but he realized there was not much truth to it. Draco had stopped thinking about his sorry excuse for a relationship with her long ago and Pansy had not contacted him at all, had not written him once. She was an old flame that had died out long before he was put in his cell.

"I didn't, no," he answered, and if Potter gave him a slight smile at that, he ignored it and the relief it revealed. Potter looked as if he had come to terms with their situation and even welcomed it, but Draco was not sure how far he was willing to go as yet.

"What made you change your mind?" Potter asked.

"I thought about it and... I didn't want to keep up the facade," he said. "I had never really liked Pansy and it was a superficial relationship to begin with. I had a long time to come to terms with the fact that I'm gay and don't think I should let being back in society cause me to ignore it. Not that I can, all things considered."

"That's good," Potter said, quirking his lips into a half smile. "And I know it can be difficult to admit that alou-"

Potter took Draco's hand and they both gasped at the surge of magic and, for Draco at least, pleasure. It coalesced and surrounded them, ruffling their hair and clothes. Then it calmed just as abruptly as it had picked up. Their magic lazed about them, a steady, barely noticeable thrum that reminded Draco of a heartbeat.

Healer Ryan practically squealed in his seat as he cast a few spells and scribbled away at his parchment.

"Don't," Potter said, when the silence between them stretched so long that Draco had begun to pull his hand away. "Just a little longer, please? My magic hasn't felt this... right in years."

"... What did it feel like before?" he asked, as he tried not to stare too hard at Potter.

"It wasn't anything noticeable really," Potter said, as he gazed at their linked hands. Draco could still feel their magic mingling, content and comfortable. "It was sort of like when you get used to the winter cold and then spring comes around and you remember that there's a mid range that's just right."

"So you got used to it then," he said. "Your magic not feeling quite right."

"Yeah, I did," Potter nodded. "I think I had always played it off as having something to do with dying in the Forbidden Forest or... having something that was part of me for so long destroyed that night. I'm glad I was wrong though. Merlin knows I don't mind having lost that part of me."

"What part of you?" he asked.

"The part of me that was connected to him," Potter said, turning Draco's hand over and touching his Dark Mark. Draco was torn between pulling his arm away and melting at the feeling of warm magic spreading over it. "I was fine with the scar. It was just a scar after all. But the part of his- The link I had with him made me feel too close to him."

"And you're fine with this?" Draco asked, staring down at his arm. "Constantly being around a reminder of him even though you want to get rid of your connections with him?"

"I've still got my scar, don't I? Isn't that already a constant reminder?" Potter asked. "I'm fine with it. You don't remind me of him and you were young when you made those choices. I'm still going to take time to get used to you though. My magic is clearly all for this and I've more than accepted it but I don't know how comfortable I'd actually be if we started living together or something like that. It might be overwhelming."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Potter," he said, pulling his hand out of the man's grip but leaving their fingers in contact. "I want to spend time with Mother and find out what can be done about finishing my NEWTs. I want to get used to living outside of Azkaban and St. Mungo's before I start living with you."

"Fine by me," Potter nodded. "I wasn't actually suggesting we move in together the second you're released. I was just saying that I don't hold the war against you but it might still take some time for me to warm up to the idea of living with you."

"You'd hardly see him anyway," Ryan mumbled to himself. "Healers practically live at the hospital."

"Ryan," Potter sighed, exasperatedly. "You're here more often than most people in this department."

"... Did I say that out loud?" Ryan winced, looking between them both.

"Yes," Draco said.

"Right, sorry," Ryan said, before standing. "Er, I think I've got everything I need really so I'll just... You two can stay and chat, or whatever."

.harry.

"Narcissa," Harry said in surprise. He had expected one of the house elves to answer the door, as usual. "Good evening."

"Good evening, Harry. Draco's in the library studying," she said, as she stepped aside to let him in.

"Should I come back later or-"

"Nonsense," she said, coaxing him inside. A house elf popped up and rid him of his outer robe before he was able to blink. "He's been in there for far too long. He's started swearing at the texts. I think he needs a distraction, regardless of whether or not he would welcome one."

"I'll see what I can do?" he said, though it sounded more like a question to his ears.

"Good," Narcissa smiled. "I'm sure you can find the library if you follow the litany of curses you'll hear once you're in the hall."

"I don't doubt it," he chuckled, before heading for the main hallway. Harry could not help smiling at the grumbles and the one or two outbursts he heard on his journey to the Manor's library.

The Manor was as grand as Harry remembered it being but it lacked the underlying darkness that had lingered about it during the war, the sort of darkness that had taken Harry years to scrub the Black house of. The walls were in rich colours, some with intricate but unobtrusive patterns. Various parts of the home were gilded with gold and blatantly displayed the wealth of the Malfoy family. Harry could just imagine Malfoy's ancestors walking through the halls in those extravagant outfits filled with frills wearing too tight trousers and gowns with constricting corsets and heavy crinolines.

When Harry finally stepped into the library, he saw Malfoy pressing his hands over his eyes before sighing and going back to the clutter of parchment and texts that were piled precariously on the desk. His fingers were smattered with ink and his quill looked as if it had been chewed on a time too many. Malfoy even had a mug of coffee sitting beside him.

Harry rapped on the door before going further inside. "Busy studying I see," he said.

Malfoy visibly exhaled and gave Harry an annoyed glance. "Yes, Potter. I'm busy," he grumbled. Now that he had turned in Harry's direction, Harry could see ink smeared on the tip of his nose and the top of his brow. "I need to relearn what I should already know and then learn everything I missed in 7th year."

"How's it going?" he asked, walking up to the desk and nudging the stack of books into a safer position. Now that he was this close, he could see that Malfoy was having his coffee black. He hated it black.

"How does it look like it's going?" Malfoy snapped, his eyes wide in frustration.

Malfoy was clearly frazzled, though he wore it well.

"It looks like you need a break," he said, prying the quill from Malfoy's fingers. "It also looks like you need to take a shower. You've got ink all over your hands and face, your hair's a mess, your robes have a few coffee stains."

"If I take a break then I'm never going to finish all of this, Potter," Malfoy grumbled, rising from his seat and beginning to pace. "I've forgotten half of what I knew, I'm out of practice, people are reluctant to tutor me in most subjects, and Mother and Aunt Andromeda can only teach me so much."

"Do you want me to help?" he asked, watching the way Malfoy worried his lip. "I can come in after my shift to help with Charms and Defence against the Dark Arts. I could try helping with Potions, I got the NEWT for it, but I can tell you from now that it'd be a right struggle."

"Mother can help me with Potions," Malfoy said distractedly, all pacing stopped for the moment. "Potter, do you realise how many hours you work? You can't be coming here all the time to tutor me."

"I'll be fine, Malfoy. Don't worry about it," he said. "You really should have a shower though. And then you're taking a break. You've got basically the rest of a school year to study. C'mon, we can sit out in the gardens since it's not so cold that warming charms won't work. Or we can go to a Muggle restaurant and pretend you're working on Muggle Studies, which I could actually help you with now that I've mentioned it."

"I've got a lot to cover. I can't-"

"Believe me, you won't remember any of it if you overwork yourself," he interrupted. "Have you even eaten yet?"

"I'm not your patient anymore, Potter," Malfoy said. "And no I haven't, but don't you dare try to scold me about it."

"Okay, so dinner then, yeah?" he asked.

"I'll think about it if you agree to ask Granger to help me with Magical Theory and History of Magic," Malfoy said.

"Deal," he agreed, eyes flickering down to rosy lips. He had wanted to find a way to get the two of them talking anyway. He just hoped they could be civil.

"And, Potter," Malfoy called.

"Hmm?" he hummed, looking up.

Before Harry knew what was happening, his magic was sparking and wrapping itself around them. At the same moment, he realized that Malfoy's lips were on his. They lips were soft, warm and had a hint of sweetness to them. His magic danced both inside and outside of him. It moved with Malfoy's eagerly and with more coordination than the two of them had as yet. Harry was practically melting where he stood as they kissed. Before his tongue could move past Malfoy's lips though, the blonde pulled away.

"What brought that on?" Harry asked, licking at his lips and feeling a bit wobbly. Malfoy had not shown any interest in making their 'relationship' in any way physical so he was a bit caught off guard.

"You've been staring at my lips all this week. It's distracting and I reckoned we should just get it out of the way," Malfoy explained.

"How romantic of you," he said, not quite mustering the sarcasm he needed. The magic that sizzled underneath his skin was too distracting. "Does this mean that dinner's a date then?"

"Perhaps."

.draco.

How Potter had convinced Draco to leave the house was a mystery to him. Actually, it was not. Draco had fallen for the Gryffindor's very Slytherin tactics. Asking someone out on a date when they were dazed by the way their magic washed over and around them, while they were being snogged and petted, was completely underhanded.

So now, Draco was sitting in a private booth at some Wizarding establishment hoping that no one would dare to try and poison Harry Potter's date. Hopefully no one had it in their mind that Draco was holding him under some sort of spell that would be broken upon his death or some rubbish like that.

"Would you quit being so nervous," Potter said, taking Draco's hand. "I'll make sure to cast every detection spell I know before we eat-"

"Or drink" he reminded Potter.

"-or drink anything."

"Good," he said, taking his napkin and spreading it carefully over his lap. "I'll admit that when we apparated here less people glared at us than I had expected, but I think they were too busy avoiding eye contact to bother."

"No one threw a Stinging Hex at you though," Potter said. "Or any hexes for that matter."

"At least," he muttered, pointing at his water for Potter to check it.

"It's a huge step though," Potter said, before casting a few spells. "If you had seen the way they treated the suspected war criminals that had been found innocent, you would be jumping for joy at only being ignored. Your water's fine."

"Thanks," he said "And I know it was dreadful. I read it in the old Prophet issues."

"You know, more people than you'd expect remember that you were only around 16 when you started working for Voldemort," Potter said, as Draco sipped his water. "It's an impressionable age, he had your parents and you were being threatened. Some people remember those things."

"From the sheer amount of owls I've received since someone leaked information about our situation –and it was a situation then- I'd say that not enough people remember," he said.

"But people do remember," Potter said, right before their food appeared on their plates. "That's important."

"The others worry me though," he said, as Potter picked up his wand up to cast detection spells. "And being around so many people at one time is still a bit much for me. You've seen how I am at the Muggle places we visit. I don't like public spaces. Too much can happen in them, especially if they're part of Wizard society."

"You are paranoid," Potter said, still casting. "I'm dating someone who's paranoid. It's amazing that I even got you to be here."

"Pleased to hear that you can recognise that," he said, taking his cutlery in hand. "I very nearly brought one of my books with me but I decided it would be too rude."

"Thank you," Potter chuckled, smiling brightly at him, "for coming, and for leaving your study material."

"You're welcome," he said, fighting a blush. Draco always felt overly self conscious when Potter looked at him with such open expressions. It made his stomach flutter and his lips quirk. He was sure part of the feeling came from his magic and not just his emotions but the two were so often the same these days that it hardly mattered. "Is the food cleared for consumption?"

"It is," Potter nodded, tucking his wand away.

"Good," he said. "And I promise not to sit here discussing my NEWTs all night."

"Highly appreciated."

.harry.

"How'd the Hermione exams go?" Harry asked, yawning.

"You can't tell from my smile?" Malfoy asked, dusting off his robes and walking towards Harry. "They went surprisingly well. I'm glad she doesn't write official exams. It'd be brutal. And one set of good exams doesn't mean I'm about to let up on my studies."

"All work and no play," he murmured, pulling Malfoy down on top of him.

"I play, Potter. I just don't play as often as you'd like," Malfoy said, running a finger along Harry's jaw and giving him a chaste kiss. "Didn't bother changing after your shift?"

"Honestly? I just flooed home and then collapsed on the couch," he said.

"Well Potty, I think you should get your arse up to your room," Malfoy said, before rising.

"Could I get another kiss first?" he asked, pulling on Malfoy's shirt front.

"Are you serious?" Malfoy asked, smiling. "Fine. One kiss and then to bed with you."

"Thank you," he grinned, as Malfoy leaned down.

When Malfoy moved to rise, Harry quickly recaptured his lips and placed a hand firmly on the back of his neck. Malfoy gave a half-hearted sigh and went along with it, tilting his head and cupping Harry's face with a hand. Harry glided his tongue along Malfoy's lip and moaned when the blonde's tongue flicked out to meet his. He smirked and chased after Malfoy's tongue with his own.

Harry's magic began to burn inside of him, right beneath the skin. He felt as if he could taste Malfoy's magic on his tongue; that's what it always felt like and he did not think he could get bored of it. His skin tingled wherever he was touched and he knew it was the same for Malfoy too.

"Potter, I recall... saying... one kiss," Malfoy breathed between kisses.

"Mhm," he hummed, his hands resting firmly on Malfoy's arse.

"This doesn't cou- mmm... count as one... kiss," Malfoy said, pulling away.

"You taste like mint chocolate chip," he murmured, running his hands under Malfoy's shirt and up to his waist.

"It's the flavour of ice cream I had so it makes sense," Malfoy said, sitting up.

"You went to Fortescue's?" he frowned. "When?"

"When I was babysitting Teddy. Mother and Andromeda went out today so I went after the exams," Malfoy said. "You're yawning again. You should go to sleep."

"What am I going to do about this?" he asked, raising his hips and drawing attention to his rather neglected erection.

"Get to bed and then I'll see what I can do, Potty," Malfoy said, getting out of the couch and offering his hand.

"Will you lick it for me, like you did your ice cream cone?" he asked, stretching.

Malfoy blinked and gaped at him with blushing cheeks. "I'll attribute that to your tiredness," he said, taking Harry's hand and pulling him up.

Harry sometimes forgot just how young Malfoy was when he had begun participating in the war. He would not have had much time for sexual exploits between schoolwork and his mission, the war that began once the cabinet had been fixed, and then being in Azkaban. Malfoy had truly lost a lot of time.

"So, no then?" he asked.

"Maybe," Malfoy said, leading Harry out of the room. "You still have to get into bed though."

"Can you stay the night?" Harry asked, following Malfoy to his room.

"So many demands tonight," Malfoy said over his shoulder. "Did something happen at work?"

"No. It's just lonely sleeping by myself," he said.

"I'll see how I feel about it after," Malfoy said

"After what?" he asked, turning into his room.

"Just shut up, would you," Malfoy said, pushing Harry onto the bed and then kneeling between his legs.

"Okay, yeah," he nodded, as he watched Malfoy undo his trousers.

Harry was used to getting wanked by Malfoy so it was not particularly new for him feel magic gliding along his cock, or a hand tugging gently on his balls. What was new this time around was when Malfoy leaned in and nervously licked a stripe up the underside of Harry cock. Heat pooled in his core and magic seemed to focus itself on the places Malfoy was in contact with, caressing him with every touch and lick. Something inside of him blazed when Malfoy finally sucked in the head of his cock and he gasped at the sensation.

Harry craved more contact. He wanted to feel their magic wound so closely together that it was difficult to tell them apart. When Malfoy glanced up at him, he could see the same yearning behind grey eyes and he could feel the pull of their magic intensify. Before Harry could find out whether or not Malfoy's first blow job would be spectacular, his balls clenched and he shot his load with a cry. The concentration of magic from their locked gazes had tipped him over as his magic had surged forwards, reaching for Malfoy.

"Potter," Malfoy grouched, no doubt at the unannounced mouthful.

"Sorry, I couldn't- You felt that right?" he asked. He had to ask because he could still feel it, that burning need to be closer.

"Yes," Malfoy admitted, after sighing and casting a quick Tergeo. "I reckon we both know if I'm staying the night then. I can't very well leave after that and you need to make me breakfast to make up for nearly choking me."

"Fine with me," he smiled, climbing further up the bed. He was already falling asleep now thanks to his climax.

"At least take your work robes off, Potter," Malfoy said, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Too tired," he mumbled. "Just get into bed."

"For Merlin's sake, at least tuck your bits away," Malfoy muttered. Harry was not sure if he felt the blonde doing just that for him and getting him out of his robes.

.draco.

"Granger, I swear to Merlin, if you give me one more essay to write, I'm going to hex you into the world of the Fae," Draco said easily.

"Oh hush, I'm not coming with an essay assignment," Granger said, rolling her eyes at him. Technically she was a Weasley now but it would cause far too much confusion if he were to walk around calling her and her husband by the same name.

"See, now if I said something like that, I would be hexed into Sihde territory," Weasley muttered, bouncing a young, squealing Hugo on one knee.

"With good reason," Granger said to her husband, as she took a seat. "Anyway, Draco, how do you feel about your upcoming NEWTs?"

"Like I should be at the Manor practicing Charms instead of idling at the park with you lot and all your children," he said, glancing around. "My theory is good so far but some of the spell casting is still a bit more difficult than it need be."

"Oi, we've only got the two children. They aren't all ours," Weasley said, wiping a bit of saliva from the baby's mouth. "And they love you for some reason. Well, George's lot not so much."

"I've noticed. And your children have a very good judge of character," he said. "They're sensible, must take after their mother."

"Funny, Malfoy," Weasley said flatly.

"I think Draco's on to something. Oh, Harry's back with Teddy," Granger said, nodding somewhere over Draco's shoulder. "And Ron, Draco's one of the few friends we've got that can get this little one to stop wailing the house down."

"I call foul play," Weasley muttered.

"What's foul play?" Potter asked, grabbing Teddy's things.

"The fact that I can lull Hugo to sleep when he's having a good cry," Draco answered. "Are we leaving now?"

"Yeah," Potter nodded, after sending Teddy to say his goodbyes. "And I don't know how you manage to get that one to calm down. He's as stubborn as Ron."

"Oi!" Weasley objected.

"What can I say, Potter, my presence must be soothing," he smiled, getting up. "I'll see you when I see you, Weasley. Granger, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Granger smiled.

"See you guys," Potter said, grinning at his friends before calling Teddy.

.draco.

"Mmm Potter... Potter," Draco murmured, as he tried to speak through all the snogging that they were doing. "As much as I... want to shag... could we- mmm... could we move to the bed?"

"Yeah," Potter breathed, still sitting firmly on Draco's lap and making no move, except to grind his hips.

They had been sitting down reading in Draco's couch and had somehow wound up with Potter sitting starkers in his lap while Draco still sported his pants. He had not been provided an opportunity to divest himself of them once Potter had straddled him. He could feel the heat of Potter's magic surrounding them, slowly burning into his skin turning his nerves into ashes.

Draco wrapped his arms firmly around Potter and eased his way to the edge of the couch before standing. Potter's legs wrapped around his waist almost instantly and arms repositioned themselves to his neck instead of his shoulders. He took a moment to heave Potter up and get a better grip on him before he made an attempt towards the bed.

"Well... that was a pleasant surprise," Potter murmured against his lips. "Maybe I should have you carry me more often."

"Don't even think about it," he smiled, kissing Potter. "And I think our magic is helping me along... because you've got to be heavier than this."

"Rude," Potter breathed, before tugging on Draco's lip with his teeth. "Absolutely rude."

"What's new?" he asked, lowering Potter onto the bed carefully. He could feel their magic easing them down and then dispersing once they were on the bed.

"The fact that I'm not annoyed at you," Potter said, before muttering a vanishing spell and ridding Draco of his pants. "Don't worry you'll get those back."

"Of course I will," he snorted. "As a new pair."

"I'll make it up to you," Potter smirked, raising his hips and rubbing their cocks together. Draco thought he felt his magic pushing him closer but did not bother to think about it. He was more preoccupied with feeling than thinking. "Scoot up."

"Scoot up?" he repeated, raising a brow.

"I want to taste you," Potter said, unlocking his legs so that Draco could move.

His cock twitched at Potter's words and he crawled forwards until he was kneeling over the man's mouth. Potter took hold of Draco's hips as he sucked him in and began to work his way down. Magic travelled giddily down his spine and to his cock, meeting Potter's magic as it glided along the slit of the head and danced along the underside of his shaft. Draco soon began to meet the bobs of Potter's head with shallow thrusts, his mouth dangling open in a silent moan. A finger made its way to his perineum and teased at it and Draco twitched in Potter's mouth at the pleasure that went through him.

"Stop. Stop. I'll- Potter," he warned, when Potter's tongue began to tease at his fraenulum. He wrapped his index finger and thumb tightly around the base of his cock and pulled out of the heat of Potter's mouth.

"Fuck me, Malfoy," Potter said. "Please? I don't want to wait anymore."

"With the way you were devouring my cock, I'd say you had no problem waiting," he muttered, as he went to position himself between the man's legs. He cupped one hand and held it out. "Lube."

"Lubricus," Potter mumbled, filling Draco's palm with lubricant.

He dipped two fingers in the liquid and then ran them over Potter's entrance, teasing and massaging before he pressed one inside carefully. He worked it in and out of Potter before he added the other.

"There, right there," Potter gasped, as Draco saw sparks of magic somewhere in front of him. He kept at the angle he had and scissored his fingers on the way out, bringing them back together as he pressed inside again. "Malfoy... Malfoy, please."

Draco slicked his cock with the remaining lube and pulled his fingers from Potter's arse. He settled himself in the 'v' of Potter's legs and positioned his cock, pressing lightly against the ring of muscles. His nerves had returned and he could feel the magic around him and inside of him trying to relax him.

"Malfoy, look at me, hey," Potter said. "Just take your time. Don't worry too much about hurting me. I'll tell you if I need you to slow down or if I'm uncomfortable, yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded, trying not to compare the girth of his cock to Potter's entrance. He had fit a few fingers inside so he knew that Potter could stretch to fit him. It just did not look pleasant.

"Come here," Potter said, reaching for him. Draco leaned down and let Potter pull him into a snog, legs wrapping around the back of his thighs. A hand slid between them and stroked him a few times before he felt the head of his cock touching Potter's entrance once more. "Just stop thinking."

Potter slowly pushed Draco's hips forwards by pulling his legs in. Draco felt the head of his cock pressing against muscles that soon gave way to a wondrous heat. Potter moaned into his mouth and lifted his hips, pushing Draco deeper inside of him. Draco slid the rest of the way in without encouragement and curled his hips upwards. He could feel when their magic whirled around them and danced about the room, expanding beyond their bodies and caressing their senses.

"Fucking perfect fit," Potter muttered, grinding his hips with his eyes closed and his mouth open. "Your cock is- Fuck me, please."

Draco could have made a comment about how Potter seemed to be doing just fine without his interference but he decided against it. Instead he braced himself on his elbows and began to pump his hips. Potter wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and adjusted his legs so that they wrapped around Draco's waist. He felt himself slide just a bit deeper inside of Potter and he moaned as tightness slid over him, swallowing him again and again. Around them, their magic pulsed encouragingly to their rhythm, driving him along.

He had never imagined how absolutely wonderful Potter would feel around him, with body and magic both. Draco thought he could spend hours just pumping into Potter were it not for his inevitable climax and possible muscle exhaustion.

"Harder," Potter gasped, bucking underneath him with his face contorted in a way that Draco would have thought was pain were it not for the breathy moans and pleas for more. He shifted his legs so that he was leaning forwards in a kneeling position, his knees spread so that he could accommodate Potter. "Yes, like that. Just like that. Just... just curl your hips a bit... no, the other... oooh fuck! Fuck me, Malfoy, fuck me."

"And I'm bossy?" he asked, after slamming into Potter hard.

He ground his hips with the intention for rubbing his cock over Potter's prostate. He was not sure how successful he was until he heard a keening sound come out of the man and felt Potter undulating underneath him. A hand tightened in his hair and he gasped at the sharpness of it. It was strange but he thought he liked it.

Draco pulled out a bit and then drove his cock into Potter, once again grinding his hips. Potter whimpered and rolled his hips. He repeated the motion a few times and snogged Potter as he did, reaching between them to squeeze Potter's cock before he set a brutal pace once more.

He felt his pleasure building as the magic around them grew heavier, heard Potter's moans becoming more urgent as he felt magic caressing his skin and burning inside of him –with the same heat and pressure he felt while inside Potter. Draco was burning and Potter was burning with him. His thrust became erratic and he could hear himself letting out a long groan as his orgasm built. Potter's fingers dug into Draco's shoulders as he panted and whined.

"Draco, Draco I-"

"Harry, I'm going to-"

He let out a cry as he shuddered and peaked, his muscles tensing as pleasure burst out of him in an explosion of magic that crackled in the air and sent cool waves of pleasure washing over and through him. It tickled his skin and danced about the room. He was not able to tell his magic apart from Harry's. Beneath him, Harry arched and bucked as he let out a moan, his arse clenching around Draco and sending sparks of pleasure through his cock.

They rocked together, panting and sweaty, as magic lingered around them. He had began to snog Potter at some point and pulled away to look at him. Potter smiled up at him before blinking a few times and sitting up a bit.

"Look," Potter said, glancing around the room.

Draco reluctantly turned his head to see hues of blue, gold and violet amidst a flurry of white. It was not the same aura he had seen when he touched his wand for the first time but it was just as brilliant.

"I think I can safely say that we're bonded via magic, Malfoy," said Potter, running a hand along Draco's side.

"What ever happened to 'Draco', Potter," he asked, kissing Potter's jaw.

"I was on the verge of orgasm," Potter said, kissing him.

"As was I," he smiled.

.harry.

"Well?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Hush, Potter," Malfoy said, still unfolding the letter. "I haven't even read it."

"Hurry up then," he said, crowding up behind Malfoy.

"I should have just read it when I got it instead of waiting for you to get home," Malfoy muttered, before finally unfolding it. Harry wasted no time before reading it.

"All you've got are O's and E's," he grinned, wrapping his arms around Malfoy and kissing his cheek. "You brilliant little ferret."

"Don't squeeze me to death," Malfoy smiled, staring at his grades.

"And Hermione was worried that I was distracting you," he said.

"You were until I had you walk around fully dressed whenever I was at yours," Malfoy said, turning in his arms and smiling. "I passed."

"You passed," Harry nodded.

"I passed with above average grades," Malfoy said, looking at the letter once more.

"I already called you brilliant once today," he teased.

"Should I owl Granger and thank her for her help...?" Malfoy asked. "Or is this one of those floo call or house call situations? I know she's kept that space open in her office so I'll have something to do until I figure out what sort of tertiary education I want."

"Pretend you're surprised when she tells you though, and I think thanking Hermione can wait until tomorrow," he said. "How about we tell your mum how you did and then go out to dinner."

"How about I tell Mother and then we skip dinner and have dessert instead," Malfoy suggested.

"That's a wonderful idea," Harry smiled.

"We can use another Malfoy property to avoid any interruptions," Malfoy said. "And I promised to have you back in time for work."

"Let's go tell your mum so we can get on with the celebrations," he grinned.