It had been six days, eight hours, and twenty-three minutes since the bond had been broken.
At the Slytherin table across the room, Zabini's hand squeezed Draco's shoulder. Caressed it. His smile was bright and suggestive as he leaned towards Draco, his eyes trailing over Draco's mouth. Harry squeezed his mug of pumpkin juice and thought about how satisfying it would be to feel it shatter in his hand. Or better yet, against Zabini's smug face. Draco's smile seemed less genuine as he nodded along to whatever Zabini was saying, but he didn't shake off the hand on his shoulder. Harry couldn't stop staring at it, at the easy confidence with which Zabini had placed it there, at the slow sweep of his thumb tracing circles against the fabric of Draco's shirt.
Harry took a deep breath and tried to tear his eyes away from the scene. He attempted to focus on his friends chattering merrily around him, but somehow his gaze always ended up back on Draco.
He was supposed to be finished with this, finished with being so drawn to Draco. Harry shouldn't feel like something deep inside him was reaching out for Draco, like a magnet tugging north. It was the bond that had made him and Draco feel this way these past few months, like planets dragged into some bizarre gravitational pull, unable to pull too far away without swinging back towards one another. Part of Harry wanted to go to McGonagall and tell her that the bond hadn't properly dissolved, that he was still feeling its effects. But deep down, he knew that was a lie. It wasn't the bond that was pulling him towards Draco, not anymore.
He'd been so angry at first—they both had been—when a potions mishap at the beginning of eighth year had bonded the two of them together. But that had been almost seven months ago, before compromises and apologies and whispered conversations in the dark and frantic snogging behind the Quidditch stands. They'd never made any promises, and Harry'd been sure that it was the bond influencing them, but he'd just wanted so much—he hadn't cared why.
But that was the thing wasn't it? It may have started because the bond forced them together, but all the feelings that had built up over the months hadn't gone away when the bond was dissolved. The bond didn't make Harry's stomach flutter when Draco smiled, it didn't make Harry want to hear about Draco's dreams, it didn't make Harry want to taste tonight's dessert on Draco's tongue. That was all Harry.
Draco sucked on a spoonful of the chocolate souffle and Harry clenched his jaw. He forced himself to look away, his eyes locking on Hermione's. She looked concerned, and opened her mouth as if to speak before closing it hesitantly. Harry tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he could tell by the turndown of her mouth that he hadn't succeeded. Across the room, Draco stood up gracefully and left the Great Hall, the flash of white-blond catching Harry's eye. Zabini remained at the table, which was something, at least.
Harry imagined Draco heading back to his room, to their old room. The room that Harry had moved into after they'd bonded and couldn't move more than twenty feet from each other. The room he'd moved out of last week, after the bond dissolution and an increasingly awkward silence. He wondered if Draco had already loosened his tie, the way he usually did when turning in for the night, if he was sitting in the middle of their old bed surrounded by open textbooks as he finished their Transfiguration essay, or if he was writing one of his long weekly letters to his mother. Picturing Draco alone in the room that used to be theirs, doing the same things he used to do, but without Harry there beside him, made Harry's chest twinge painfully.
His feelings hadn't left with their unwanted bond, and Harry knew that meant Draco's feelings must still be there too. Normally that knowledge would be enough for Harry to bust down Draco's door and force him to admit that he cared. But he hadn't been able to stop second guessing himself. Harry found himself going over their every single moment together, wondering if Draco's feelings were real, or if he had been humouring Harry to pass the time. Maybe it had just been sex for Draco, nothing more than a pleasant physical diversion while they waited for the professors to figure out how to undo the bond.
He scowled as the pain suffusing his body turned hot and dark. What right did Draco have to make their bond out to be nothing? Flirting with Zabini not a week after they'd broken up, walking around the castle like he hadn't a care in the world while Harry felt like his world was crumbling around him. He'd even gotten to keep the room, which still held quite a bit of Harry's stuff, since he'd left in such a hurry. Harry had been unsure of how he'd be received if he went back to get the rest of his things, and he'd had to beg Hermione to let him borrow her Transfigurations textbook the past week.
He stood abruptly. "I'm heading up," Harry said decisively to the surrounding Gryffindors, before heading for the entrance to the Great Hall. He was vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione trading worried whispers—he knew that it wouldn't have escaped Hermione's notice that he was leaving so soon after Draco—but he didn't stop to reassure them. They didn't have to be concerned. Harry was just going to get his stuff back. He wasn't going to let Draco hide his books and quills away from Harry the way he had hid himself.
In no time at all he was standing in front of the portrait outside their room, and without a second thought, he said their old password Felix Felicis. A heartbeat later the portrait slid open, and Harry felt a flicker of surprise. He'd been planning on pounding against the portrait until Draco let him inside, but it had just been habit for him to murmur the familiar phrase. Harry had thought that Draco would have changed it, and he felt a glimmer of hope at the knowledge that he hadn't.
Harry continued inside, the portrait swinging shut after him, and saw Draco sitting at the edge of the bed, rolling a still snitch in his hand. At Harry's entrance, he looked up, his eyes filling with momentary pleasure before his expression shut down and his jaw tightened.
"What are you doing here, Potter?"
It was harder than he'd been expecting, to hear that mouth forming those harsh consonants. Potter was before, before them, before Draco had exhaled his name like a prayer amidst gasps and moans as Harry slid inside of him. That Draco could so quickly, so easily, slip back into those old roles, had fury prickling down his spine. "I'm here to get my stuff back."
"Yeah. I realised I left some of my things here, and I wanted them back." Harry gave a nasty smile. "I didn't expect the old password to work."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "Yes, well, I haven't had a chance to change it yet. But thank you for reminding me. I'd rather not have any more...unexpected visitors." His tone was icy.
"No, of course not," Harry bit out. He pulled out his wand and started summoning his forgotten textbooks. "I'd hate to interrupt your private time with Zabini."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Potter?"
"Nothing. Just an observation. Though you sure do work fast, don't you." Harry pulled out his knapsack and started shrinking his things to fit into the bag. His hands were shaking as anger coursed through him. "I mean, not even a week after we break-up, and you start cozying up to Zabini."
Draco's eyes flashed. "Who I choose to date, or not date for that matter, is none of your concern. We were never together, Potter." Draco's words were needles stabbing into his skin.
"Never together. Never together!" Harry dropped his things in a heap onto the floor and stalked towards Draco. "So we weren't together when we kissed against that wall right there? We weren't together when we stayed up all night talking, when we woke up every morning in each other's arms? We weren't together when we had sex in this bed, and the broomshed, and the—"
"N—No, Potter, we weren't. It was just the bond." Draco's eyes were wide and his breath was uneven.
"Bullshit. I know what I felt and I know what I feel." Harry pressed closer, backing Draco up against the wall, their bodies almost touching.
"And what is it that you feel?" He could tell that Draco had been going for a sneer on that last word; he missed the mark, sounding more curious and unsure than mocking.
"That you're mine," Harry snarled, before lunging forward and taking Draco's mouth in a bruising kiss. He mentally prepared himself for a hex, or maybe even a punch as he made his move, but he was almost shocked still when Draco's mouth opened effortlessly beneath his onslaught.
They'd shared a lot of kisses over the past few months, but this was their first without the bond linking them together, and there was a rawness to it that Harry had never felt before. They were stripped bare, unable to hide behind the bond, to blame it for their urges and desires. This kiss—the scraping teeth and battling tongues and fierce press of lips—was pure Harry and Draco.
Draco gave as good as he got, pressing into Harry and kissing him wildly. His hands fisted in the back of Harry's robes and his body writhed between Harry and the wall as he rubbed himself against Harry's thigh. Harry kissed his way to Draco's ear, his teeth dragging along the edge of Draco's jaw as he moved to suck on an earlobe. "You're mine, Draco. You know you are."
A moan sounded low in Draco's throat, and suddenly kissing Draco against the wall wasn't nearly enough. Harry pulled back, dragging Draco with him and pushing him down on the bed. He reached for his wand and removed their clothes with a swish, knowing that he didn't have the patience right now to remove all their clothing by hand. Draco's eyes were dark as he moved to the center of the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the pace of his breathing.
Harry climbed onto the bed and had barely managed to settle himself over Draco, before he was being pulled down for another heated kiss. Merlin, he didn't know how he'd managed to survive six whole days without this, without the feeling of Draco's mouth against his own, the feeling of Draco's body moving beneath him. He felt out of control, overwhelmed by all the love he felt for Draco, all the pain of their separation, and all the uncertainty of what would happen next. All he knew was that this felt right and real and so fucking good.
His cock was rock hard as it rubbed deliciously against Draco's erection with every circle of their hips, smearing precome against their skin. Harry wanted to fuck Draco, wanted to be inside him, and feel the hot, silky clench of him as they chased their pleasure, but he knew he was too worked up to make it last. But this, this was good too, Draco's smooth skin sliding beneath him, his beautiful prick pressing into Harry's stomach and making it clench with pleasure.
Harry's hips continued their furious rocking rhythm as Draco and Harry's mouths did their best to devour one another. He slid his palms down Draco's arms, finding his hands and pressing them next to the mattress by Draco's head. Harry slid their fingers together, and Draco gasped brokenly against Harry's mouth.
His hips instinctively slowed as he pulled back to look at Draco. His lips were a swollen red, his cheeks flushed with color, and his eyes—his eyes were completely open, no trace of the studied blankness Draco usually hid behind. Harry saw Draco's lust and desire, his fear and hesitation, but mostly, he saw his love. The love that both of them had felt, and neither of them had had the courage to speak.
Harry had been so worried that Draco didn't feel the same, that he'd let Draco push him away. But no more. He wasn't going to let them hide behind their old animosity. He wasn't going to let them pretend that everything that happened between them was only because of the bond. He was in love with Draco Malfoy, and he was going to do whatever it took to keep him.
He squeezed Draco's fingers and lowered his forehead to Draco's. Their lips were just a hair's width apart, their breathy pants mingling together and heating the air between them. Harry's eyes never left Draco's as he thrust against him, doing his very best to show Draco that he wasn't alone in this, that Harry felt it too. Draco stilled beneath Harry, his eyes wide and frightened as he searched Harry's gaze. Harry couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but hold Draco pinned beneath him as he bared his soul and prayed that Draco would accept what he was offering.
An eternity passed in those brief moments, but then Draco's breath caught and he nudged his mouth up to kiss Harry slow and sweet. Harry returned his kiss eagerly and when Draco hooked his ankles over Harry's legs and started thrusting up against him, Harry returned those thrusts eagerly, too.
Merlin. How many times had they gotten off together over the past few months? How many times had they made each other come with their hands and mouths and bodies? They'd been no stranger to sex, and every time had been brilliant, but this...it had never felt like this. It was like they'd both been holding something back before, but now, without the bond between them mudding the waters, they could give themselves over to each other fully. All those times together and Harry had never known what he'd been missing, had never known that there was more of Draco that he could be getting. It made him feel giddy and greedy to be getting it all now. It made Harry want to keep him in bed for weeks, to experience everything all over again with Draco, until neither of them could walk or speak or think of anything other than each other.
Draco's hands began to clench, his hips stuttering in a manner that was all too familiar to Harry. He could feel his own orgasm building, heat spreading through his veins as he wound himself tighter and tighter. With one last lingering kiss, he broke away from Draco's lips, staring into Draco's eyes as he whispered, "I'm yours, Draco."
Draco cried out as his release coated their stomachs. He trembled through his orgasm, his eyes wide-open and awed as they stared up at Harry. Harry continued rocking against Draco, his erection sliding slippery against Draco's spent cock. Draco smiled, soft and private, and Harry ached at the sight of it, at the sight of the smile he thought he'd never see again. He hoped that smile meant what he thought it did, that Draco wanted this to work just as badly as Harry. Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to stand it if Draco tried to pretend this didn't matter. But that smile gave Harry hope, and he clung to it desperately as he rutted against Draco.
"Yes, Harry," Draco murmured. His voice was low and rough with emotion. "You're mine."
Harry came, his eyes squeezing shut and his body spasming as ropes of white painted their stomachs, adding to the mess between them. He collapsed on top of Draco, releasing his hands and kissing him soundly until Draco pushed him away. With a wrinkle of his nose, Draco reached for his wand and cast a cleaning spell on them both. He tossed his wand on the bedside table, before reaching out for Harry once again.
They lay together, afterward, all warm skin and tangled legs and whispered words. Harry felt like the world made sense again, laying sated and content in Draco's bed, in their bed. Though maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He didn't want to scare Draco off by moving too fast. If Draco needed some time to work past the bond, if he wanted to start things from scratch and see where it all went, then Harry could do that, for Draco.
He gave Draco a long, lazy kiss. Pulling back with a reluctant smile, he moved to sit up.
"I—I should probably get going, yeah?"
Draco studied him calmly. "Did you want to leave?"
Harry tried to get a read on what Draco wanted, but his expression gave nothing away. "I don't want to push you, or move too fast."
"That doesn't answer my question. Do you want to go?"
Harry bit his lip. "No."
"Then don't." Draco smiled and Harry didn't bother trying to stop his responding grin. "Stay. With me."