Bond (Drarry)

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

November 28

Day 61, Saturday

Draco stretched tiredly and cracked a few bones in his back. He and Potter were in the library, about halfway through their scheduled three hours of studying and revising notes, which was to be capped off by dinner in Hogsmeade. Which he was starting to look forward to rather alarmingly.

He shouldn't need it so much, but he did. Needed time away from Slytherin and the tension and hostility there. Time away from Gryffindor and its irritating, cloying sweetness, especially in the way they were treating him lately. Ignorant gits thought they were doing him a favour, including him in their social circle. Feeling sorry for him for what Slytherin was doing. Welcoming him with open arms, with a large helping of smug See How Noble We Are and a nauseating dash of Aren't You Grateful To Us For Befriending You In Your Time Of Need.

It made him want to hex them all into oblivion.

At least he was no longer so self-conscious around the Gryffindors who'd taken part in the healing circle. McGonagall and Snape hadn't been a problem; teachers saving students' lives had become almost routine during his years at Hogwarts, and he didn't have to be around them in social settings anyway. Blaise and Pansy had merely pointed out that he would be forever in their debt, not just for the healing spell but for remaining loyal to him despite his family's fall from grace with the Dark Lord. But for weeks he'd felt utterly exposed, and uneasy with his burden of gratitude, around Weasley, Granger and Longbottom. Spending any time in their presence had been rather uncomfortable.

He'd finally gotten used to it, but Gryffindor was still irritating. The only bright spot at Gryffindor Tower right now was actually Seamus Finnigan, with his amusing discomfort over the whole 'gay' thing. He still looked away squeamishly when he saw Draco and Potter in the same bed, was unable to stay in the same room when they touched, and had even mumbled something about "Can't you do that somewhere else" once when Potter had kissed Draco, which had prompted the other Gryffindor boys to treat him to a round of rather merciless - and very funny - teasing about his prudishness.

At least his mortified homophobia was honest. Stupid and Muggle-induced, but honest.

Well... not entirely Muggle-induced. Plenty of the Slytherin purebloods had shown they were quite willing to stoop to homophobia as well, if it helped denigrate Draco and Potter's characters.

"Malfoy, stop that," Potter said absently, placing a hand on Draco's neck without looking up from his Arithmancy notes.

"Stop what?"

"Grinding your teeth. Relax." Potter started to rub firmly at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "God, you're tense," he murmured, still not looking up from his notes.

Draco dipped his head a little lower, startled at just how good the simple neck-rubbing felt, as Potter's hand moved to the base of his neck. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"What?"

"With your hand. It doesn't feel like a normal spell..." he trailed off, tilting his head to give Potter more room to work.

Potter looked up, amused, his hand still working its magic. "It's not a spell, just a neck rub. Haven't you ever had one before?"

"Mm, don't think so. It's really not magic?" He closed his eyes.

"No, it's really not." Potter's voice held a chuckle.

"Mm. It's nice..." he trailed off, letting himself enjoy the feeling of contentment, of being cared for. Potter leaned in closer, moving to rub the space between his shoulder blades with both hands now, and he vaguely hoped nobody was watching and snickering but then decided they could bloody well snicker if they wanted to. This felt too good to stop. And who knew, maybe one of those 'anonymous sources' would go to the Prophet with evidence that he and Potter didn't hate each other. He sighed, pillowing his head on his arms, and only opened his eyes after Potter gave his back a final squeeze and cleared his throat.