Bond (Drarry)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

October 1 - October 4

Day 3, Thursday, continued

I must remember I'm living with a Slytherin, and an unusually unpleasant, vindictive one at that, thought Harry at lunch time.

The day had not gone well so far. They'd rushed into Transfigurations eight minutes late, and although all McGonagall had done was pause in mid-sentence and pointedly wait for them to sit before continuing, Malfoy had been in a foul temper ever since. In sharp contrast with his sullen terseness the last two days, he'd kept up a steady litany of verbal abuse during the practical part of the lesson.

It hadn't helped that they were in Malfoy's class, so every snide remark Malfoy sent his way was followed by a chorus of laughter from his Slytherin cronies. Harry had almost literally bitten his tongue to keep from saying anything, knowing whatever he said would only be mercilessly mocked by Malfoy and his friends.

"Brilliant, Potter. Work any second year would be proud of. Too bad you're in seventh."

"Did that one glimmer of understanding get too lonely inside your brain with no other thoughts to keep it company? Is that why it decided to abandon you?" Pansy Parkinson had particularly appreciated that one.

"Merlin, Potter, we're supposed to be turning a quill into a flower, not a bloody weed."

"You are just feigning abject stupidity, right? To fool the rest of us into a false sense of superiority?" That last had at least resulted in McGonagall taking five points from Slytherin for Malfoy's rudeness, but that hadn't helped Harry's ego any.

Then had come Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry had been able to sit with his friends during the first part of the lesson, but the second half involved a fair bit of movement as they practiced spells against banshees. Goyle, Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson had ended up working near them, joining Malfoy in mocking Harry and Hermione as they attempted to subdue Harry's banshee, and Hermione's repeated exhortations to Harry to not listen to 'the slimy git' somehow didn't help at all.

"Honestly, Potter, I may as well be married to a Squib," Malfoy had muttered, and his Slytherin friends had laughed.

"We're not married," Harry snapped, and Malfoy had blinked at him.

"What?"

"We may be bonded. We're not married," Harry said tightly.

"It's the same thing."

"No it's not. Don't call it that," Hermione said coldly.

Malfoy exchanged a baffled look with his cronies. "Why not?"

"Marriage is supposed to be something more than a stupid curse that ties you to a loathsome toad you'd rather kill in his sleep. It's supposed to be about love and commitment - it's supposed to be a good thing."

Malfoy smirked at them. "Ooh. That's so sweet. Marriage is all about poetry and candy hearts, is it?" Parkinson giggled. "How very Muggle. All right then, have it your way: honestly, Potter, darling, I may as well be married to a Squib."

Harry had blushed furiously, sending the Slytherins into peals of laughter and giving Malfoy perfect fodder for more merciless mockery for the rest of the class.

"Don't think too hard, dear. It's not your strong suit."

"Light of my life, this complete inability of yours to understand the simplest instructions - does it come naturally, or have you worked hard to perfect it?"

Well, at least they would be among Harry's friends for most of the afternoon, he tried to comfort himself. Although as he'd learned during Defence Against the Dark Arts, that didn't mean much if there was a lot of movement during class. They had both been accidentally touched by other students during the practical parts of Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and had ended up standing very close to each other to avoid the pain of unwanted contact.