Bounded

Summery: In his 7th year, Harry goes through a really rough breakup with his girlfriend and then what could be worse then being bounded to some one you hate? Will his bonded help him out or will he push himself to make Harry as miserable as possible?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, Draco, or anything, which is related to Hogwarts, or J. K. Rowling's world. I did change some of the stuff in these chapters, but Company Calls Epilogue did use to own it, but never finished it, so she gave it to me. I have proof.

Yes, I will be reposting everything, just because I have changed a few things here and thee but not much at all. Hope you like it.

I want to thank my New friend and Beta, Nuavarion. She has helped me so much in my grammar and spelling. Those of you who have read this fic before, then you know how bad it used to be. THANK YOU!

Warning: slash, fluff, and others that at the moment escape me, but will be up sooner rather than later.

"Talking"

'Thoughts'

Spells

(Author's notes)

Now, lets get this show on the show...

He stood there, seeming not to understand a word she was saying to him. A light hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked down, perplexed as such perfect fingers, rested delicately against his skin; a touch that was always so soft and now so poisonous; a touch that was always addicting.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I promise, I don't mean to hurt you. It's just, well... I need some time alone. To...think. To find myself." Her voice cracked, and the tears fell down her soft cheeks. He longed to reach out to her, to hug her, kiss her tears away, to make everything better. She didn't deserve to be hurt, even if it was her own choice. He would do anything to keep her from crying, to make it all better, anything.

Ever since he had beaten He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, in the beginning of last year, he had been a perfectly normal young wizard, with a beautiful, normal girlfriend. Yet, at this moment, all words failed him. He felt like he was sinking, his perfect reality spiraling downward, deeper into a pit of nothing. He loved her, loved her with everything inside him, and now she was ending it; rejecting him. He wanted to cry, wanted to throw up, he felt as though he were choking on the words that were stuck in the back of his throat, until he finally found his voice.

"Hermione, I...I don't know what to say." His voice was soft, every ounce of hurt he felt inside echoed in his hollow words. "I really thought you loved me."

She sniffled. "You don't understand, you're not listening to me." She said sternly. "I do love you, I'm just not in love with you. I just need some space right now, it's not you, it's me."

She sniffled once more, and wiped her eyes on the corner of her robes. "I just don't think that I am capable of loving someone the way that you deserve to be loved. But, really baby, I care about you, and if I didn't think this was for the best, I wouldn't do it."

"Don't call me 'baby'." he said icily. Hermione cringed at the disgust in his voice, but she knew him better than that. She knew that he was just masking the pain with bitterness. He looked up at her , making eye contact for the first time since she started the conversation. Her eyes were empty blue pools, looking back at him. There was no sadness, no regret, no sorrow, no guilt, nor shame, just... emptiness. He looked away from her, glancing around the common room; it was empty as well. But, at two in the morning that was to be expected. The fire beside them had died down to a dull glow, casting shadows on their figures. Hermione watched him, waiting for some sort of positive reaction.

Turning to face her, he took her hands in his. He loved her, she loved him, and he wasn't going to lose her now, he wasn't. It just wasn't fair. He bent his head and pressed his lips against hers, claiming her lips in a kiss that was intended to re-ignite the passion she once felt. It was only seconds before she tore herself out of his grasp and ran, throwing one last insincere look over her shoulder. Then, she was gone before he could even understand why he had kissed her that one last time. It was over; it was over for real. She was gone; she had left him. His world was crumbling around him; the darkness of the common room was encircling him, and he slid to the floor with a thud. Slumped against the cold brick wall, he cried. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, collapsed, as tears of pain and betrayal poured from his eyes and down his cheeks. He stayed crumpled on the floor until all he could do was shake with dry sobs.

Harry awoke the next morning in his bed. He had no recollection of how he had gotten there, but he was there all the same. Before his eyes had even opened, the feelings of dread from last night washed over him. She was gone. Hermione, his love, the radiance in his life, left him to die, hurt and alone. He spilled out of his bed and staggered to the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing red and blue plaid pajama pants, and his chest was bare. His skin was evenly tanned, and the years of Quidditch had paid off, in a sense that he was adequately developed and sculpted. His face however, revealed how much he had endured in the last 12 hours. His skin was colorless and pasty, with the exception of his green eyes, which were darkly rimmed with red; bloodshot and inflamed. The shimmer they once held was spent, and the vibrant green had faded to just a shadow what it once was. His hair was even worse than usual; it stood in all directions, and refused to do anything remotely normal. He looked exactly like he felt, broken-hearted.

He went through the routine of getting ready for classes by habit alone, Putting on khaki slacks, a white oxford dress shirt, a tie in Gryffindor's colors and robes. He didn't bother to look in the mirror to make sure he had dressed properly, but it didn't matter. His shirt was barely buttoned; his tie hung loose around his neck, and he had forgotten his belt completely.
By the time he staggered down to the great hall for breakfast, it had been filled completely. Harry scanned the room for Ron, his best friend. He had been since they had met 6 years ago. Harry was convinced that Ron would choose his friendship over Hermione's. Clearly, that's where his loyalties should and would lie. After all, they both knew that Harry would choose Ron in a heartbeat, given the chance. That's just the way it was.

But when he spotted Ron at the table, his stomach turned, and he felt as though the ground had rushed up at his face even though he remained upright, and the floor clearly wasn't moving. He stood paralyzed, and just gaped at Hermione sitting with Ron, laughing happily, her hand on his arm, just like she had touched him the night before. That alone was enough proof of her true feelings, but when he examined his best friend and the woman he loved, he saw that Ron had his arm wrapped possessively, even intimately around her waist. He had barely made it into the Great Hall before he'd seen her heavily flirting with his best friend and had been forced to turn and flee the sight. Overwhelmed by nausea, he stumbled out onto the

grounds. The frosty morning air of February bit at his nose, and stung his fingers. Harry collapsed for a second time since his life twisted out of his control, sinking down onto the frozen grass, he just sat there with his knees pulled up against his chest, tears frozen on his pale cheeks.

The only person who saw his brief entrance and panicked escape sat, across the great hall and watching with mounting amusement. Silver eyes followed the abrupt departure, and Draco Malfoy got up quickly to follow Harry. After all, why miss a chance to make poor Potter's life even worse?

Draco stood quickly, almost knocking his breakfast off of the house table. His fellow Slytherins looked at him oddly as he followed the boy out of the Great Hall. He followed him down the corridor, out the main doors, and onto the frozen grounds. Draco shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, mentally cursed the snow, and himself for being out in the snow in the first place.

"Potter!" Draco shouted. Harry barely glanced up, and despite his grief, he still didn't want Malfoy to see him weak. He stood slowly, drawing himself up to his full height of 5'11. He wasn't the tallest boy in the school, but he was an inch or two taller than Draco.

"Leave me alone Malfoy, I can't handle this right now. I just can't handle you," he said as he angrily brushed the frozen tears from his face in humiliation.

"What's wrong Potter? " Malfoy sneered at him. Harry stared blankly at his opponent, refusing to answer. "Not willing to share, eh? Well, don't worry. Word travels fast. I heard that your girlfriend left you for the Weasel. That's got to be harsh."

Harry grimaced at his words, and looked down. He swallowed the response that almost came automatically; the automatic need to defend Ron's honor. At this point, Harry made himself sick; he was acting so pathetic and at least now he knew it.

Draco didn't stop though; he continued his verbal assault with vigor. "So, tell me. Is it painful to know that in her eyes, he is that much better than you?" Again, Harry just looked at him, too hurt to manage even an icy stare. Malfoy's words hurt, they stung, yet as always, that was expected. He hated Malfoy, hated him to the point that it smoldered inside his chest, and flared up into a full-fledged flame at the worst possible times.

"Go away, Malfoy," he finally managed, as he spun on his heal, and quickly walked away. Unable to let Harry have the last word, Draco followed at a jog.
"Potter. Hey, Potter!" Draco shouted. "Turn around Scarhead!" Harry ignored him as the Slytherin caught up to him. "A mudblood and a weasel, how fitting," he sneered to Harry's back.

That was it. The embers of animosity raged inside, and scalded all sense of reason. Harry whirled around, his fist connecting with Malfoy's jaw, and knocked him backwards several feet as Draco tried to maintain his footing. Stunned, Malfoy just stood there and seemed unaware as Harry leapt onto him, beating his face with fury, letting everything out, hurling every profanity he could imagine at Malfoy's bleeding and bruising face.

"What is going on here?" a bitter voice belonging to Professor Snape called, and Harry froze in mid-swing. Draco used this sudden halt in Harry attack as an opportunity to leap up, and run to Snape's side.

"Professor, he attacked me. Do you know what this means? Look, I'm bleeding!" Malfoy panted, touching his split lip with a pale finger.

"I see, Draco, I see. Potter." Snape began, "Fighting already, are you? Well, I should point out that I knew you were trouble from the start. 50 points from Gryffindor, and detention for two weeks should do the trick." Malfoy let out a string of profanities from the pain and then looked at Snape expectantly. "100 points Mr. Potter. Now get out of my sight before I take any more."

Harry stood slowly and shot a deadly glance at Malfoy who was already headed towards the castle as if nothing happened, with Snape at his side. He looked down at his knuckles; they were split open and stained red with a mix of his and Malfoy's blood. He cringed as he wiped the metallic liquid onto his robes. He felt funny; hot inside, hot and thirsty. He turned towards the castle and headed towards Gryffindor tower.

Once he was back in his room he laid down, resting his forehead against the cool pillow. He closed his eyes, and opened his mind to the torrent of memories. His eyes burned as she came flooding back into his mind.

Memory:

It was spring, the air smelled of flowers, and a gently breeze tickled his nose. He looked at her. God, she was gorgeous. She laughed as she tucked her hair back behind her ears, as her eyes would almost twinkle when she looked at him. She was amazing. Leaning down, he kissed her, gently, loving, and...she kissed back.

"I love you Harry," she whispered.

"I love you too Hermione." he exploded with emotions inside, kissing her again.

He loved her so much, and now she knew; he had said it. He had told her he loved her, and she loved him. Everything was perfect.

He was jolted out of the memory, as an owl landed on his stomach. It was tiny, and he realized it as one of the owls reserved for in-castle deliveries. He opened the letter slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the words
Harry,

Please come to my office right away.

Professor Dumbledore

Harry folded the note, and slipped it in a pocket. He stood slowly, running a hand through his hair, and wiping at the tears that were continually leaking down his cheeks. He headed off to Dumbledore's office. He knew the password already of course from being there a few times before. And as he climbed the spiral staircase, he wondered what he could have done now. The door was half open and he knocked lightly,then went in. Professor Dumbledore was sitting as his desk.

"Harry. Harry, come in, sit down," he said. Harry walked in, the closing the door behind him.

"I'm sure you are wondering why you are here." Harry nodded slowly. "Well, I was just informed by Professor Snape, that you were caught fighting with Draco Malfoy. More importantly, that you were both bleeding."

Harry nodded again, not sure what the blood had to do with anything. "Professor," he started, attempting to explain. "He provoked me, He... he called Hermione... he called her a mudblood." At the mention of his ex- girlfriend, Harry's eyes stung once more. Dumbledore waited patiently, allowing the teenager in front of him to salvage his control.

"Harry, I need to tell you something very important about Draco Malfoy." Dumbledore paused, as if thinking. "Mr. Malfoy is a Linkling Harry. Do you know what that is?" Harry shook his head, looking puzzled. "It's a genetic condition that runs in the blood of the men in the Malfoy family. It can bond a Linkling with a non-Linkling. When you attacked Mr. Malfoy, you managed to mix your blood. Therefore resulting in an irreversible bond between you two. When we admitted Draco to Hogwarts, we knew of this condition and agreed to work with him to prevent him from accidentally connecting with anyone else. Do you see, Harry? You are bonded to him, for the rest of your life."

Harry stared back at him, clearly in shock. Unable to understand what was being told to him; bonded to Malfoy, being connected to the one he hated most.

Harry sat in his chair, motionlessly, while Dumbledore rose to his feet after a knock came at the door, to allow Draco into his office, followed by Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. When they were all seated again, he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, I'm sure you realize the severity of this situation at hand. I have brought you together to discuss how you would prefer to handle it."

"I would prefer to die," said Harry icily. "Anything to avoid being connected with him." Harry uttered the word 'him' with such animosity and disdain that the room seemed to drop in temperature.

"And you both will, if you go longer than 48 hours without some sort of contact." Dumbledore said.
"I'm aware," Dumbledore continued. "That you boys do not have the best history together, and I am almost fearful to say that you will have to get over it. Because, from now on, you need each other."

"This is entirely all your fault, Potter." Draco hissed, glaring at him.

"My fault!" Harry exclaimed. "It's not my fault you have bad blood."

"At least I'm not a half-blood like you Potter," Draco spat.

"Not all of us define a good wizard as inbred" Harry spat back bitterly.

Draco tensed, and Dumbledore interjected, to keep them from getting in another brawl. "Boys," he said calmly. "It should be most obvious to you that bickering will no longer get you anywhere. It is my humble advice that you come to terms with each other, so that the rest of your lives aren't as miserable as they seem to be now. That is why I am making the executive decision to place you two in the far most tower towards the lake. It was reserved for visiting ministry officials, but I suppose you will have to use it for now. It only has one bedroom at the moment, but I can have the study turned into another one. The house elves have already taken your things over there. Do you understand?" Dumbledore's voice was as calm as ever. While Harry looked as if he would either throw up, or faint.

Harry nodded after seeing that he had no other choice, and Draco shrugged his shoulders.
"Good," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Then you may go get settled in your new accommodations, the password is 'Linkling'. I will excuse you from afternoon classes and your detention Harry But," he emphasized. "Use your time wisely."

Harry left the office as quickly as possible, without going into a full-out run. He was desperate to be anywhere but there. He hurried to the other end of the castle, frantic to get to the new rooms and lock himself in his before Malfoy could. He was breathing hard by the time he reached the top of the spiral staircase, and saw that there was a portrait of a brown haired witch hanging on the wall. She eyed him suspiciously when he walked over to her.

"Password?" The witch asked

"Linkling," Harry replied dully, and the entrance opened. He climbed in and was quite impressed by what he saw. The first room was a small, but elegantly furnished common room. 'This must have been for the Minister of Magic.' he thought, based on the quality of the room.

The carpet was cream colored and plush; it was so thick he sunk softly down into it by a few centimeters. The walls were almost golden yellow, and decorated with many expensive portraits. There were two large couches and a fluffy looking armchair seated by a blazing fire. To his right was an oped door and he walked over to it, peaking inside. It was a small bathroom, just having a toilet and a sink. There was a staircase in the back right corner, which he supposed led to the bedrooms and study. He climbed it, and slowly and pushed open the first door. The room had a four-poster bed; the curtains were a dark shade of Slytherin green, everything else in the room matched, as it seemed to radiate darkness.

Continuing on, he came to a second door; which led to another bathroom, which had a sink, toilet, bathtub, and a nice shower. It was nice enough all right. The last room was his, of course; it looked mostly like his dorm room, except there was more privacy. He wasn't shocked at all to see that his belongings had already been moved here, after all, Dumbledore had said that they were already here. Harry pulled off his robes, and hung them on the back of a chair. He reached into his trunk and pulled out a pair of Khaki pants. He heard Malfoy come in downstairs as he headed towards the shower.

Stepping into the steam filled shower, he relaxed immediately. He let the streams of hot water beat down on his face and chest as he took in the events of the day. Lazily, he moved to wash his body, going over every last detail of what had taken place earlier. Bonded to Malfoy, there was no one else he would hate more to be stuck with for eternity, except maybe Crabbe or Goyle, but at least Malfoy showed some signs of intelligent life, beyond the mask he put up. Harry leaned into the flow of water, washing the grime off his body as the heat and steam seemed to wash it off of his mind. He loved showering; it made him feel clean inside, purified by the penetrating steam.

He leaned his head against the cool glass wall of the shower, letting the water cascade over his back. His eyes closed while his muscles loosened. Eventually he moved again, reaching up to wash and condition his hair. He was washing out the shampoo when he heard a noise. Figuring it was just Malfoy performing some Death-Eater type ritual, he continued but was quickly interrupted by a scream. Malfoy stood in the middle of the bathroom, seeming completely horrified by the fact that he had just walked in on Harry, while he was in the shower.

"Bloody hell, Potter," he shouted, after taking one good look at Harry's drenched body. "At least have some decency to lock the door," he shouted, after taking one good look at Harry's drenched body. Harry just stood there in shook, shampoo trails running down his body as he stood in shock. Quickly and angrily, he shook his head, soapy water splattering around him before immersing himself in the water once more.

'Fucking Malfoy' he thought 'insufferable git' ...

Draco stormed out. He wasn't really angry at all, he knew Harry was in the shower long before he had barged in. It wasn't his fault. The dark haired Gryffindor had certainly matured a lot over the years. His chest was broad, his face defined, green eyes to be positioned perfectly. He imagined how it would feel to have Harry watching him, those emerald eyes filled with lust. Draco was tall, but Harry was taller. He was muscled and well defined. He certainly didn't have anything to be ashamed of. Draco walked back to his room smiling. He had known he was bisexual since the beginning of their third year. It wasn't until quite recently though, that he had lost all attraction to women at all.

Lying down on his bed, he closed his eyes and imagined Harry as he was at that exact moment. Rivulets of water running down his chest, stomach...further down. Draco blushed as he pictured the pure manliness of Harry, and as he felt himself growing stiff, he heard Harry leave the bathroom and sighed. Harry hated him, and he hated Harry. So why the hell was he thinking this way about him?

Harry thumped down the stairs, wearing only khaki cargo pants. His chest was bare, his pants hung low; exposing that fact he wore nothing underneath. His hair was unruly and wet, sticking in bits to his forehead. He had long since had his eyes magically corrected, making glasses no longer an issue, he had turned into a very attractive man.

Harry sat down at the table that was in the Common Room. He had brought down his Potions book and was about to start the 3-foot long essay that Snape assigned, on the dangers of love potions. He opened his book and skimmed the page; the words all seemed to meld together, Potions was by far his worst subject. He would have failed it completely if it weren't for Hermione. But now, she was gone too. His world was spiraling out of control and he was powerless to stop it.
Draco came back downstairs about an hour later. He sneered at Harry. "Not much more clothed I see, Potter," he sneered. "But, at least you've hidden the more embarrassing parts." He snickered obnoxiously had his own joke

.
"Don't you have somewhere, anywhere else you could go Malfoy? Perhaps the Death-eater's are having a meeting? I'm sure your father knows, you could owl him. While you're at it, be sure you complain lots about this current situation, maybe he can buy you a new life."

"Sod off, Harry," Draco snarled. 'Whoa,' he thought to himself 'I called him Harry.'

"I really don't remember giving you permission to call me Harry. So, go away, I've got enough to worry about, seeing as I'm already failing Potions."

"Potions?" Malfoy asked, suddenly curious. "The love potion essay?"

"Yes," Harry replied suspiciously "What of it?"

"Potions is my best subject. I could help you ya know." Draco said, and then thought angrily, 'What the bloody hell am I thinking? Did I just offer to help Potter?'

"Thanks, but I'd rather fail one hundred times over, than have to spend one more unnecessary moment with you."

"Jesus, Harry! You're going to bloody fail!" Draco stated in surprise.

"Why should you care? Wouldn't you like seeing me fail again? And do not call me Harry."

'He has a point, why do I care?' Draco mused. "I don't care," Draco said finally. "I'm just bored, and I like Potions. I also like challenges, and I'm assuming getting anything through your thick skull would be the ultimate challenge."

Harry was quiet for a moment while he thought it over. He knew that Malfoy knew that he needed his help. He would rather have anyone but Malfoy help him, and yet, at the moment, there was no one else. He really didn't want to take remedial Potions.
He sighed, "Fine then; help me"

Draco sat down across from him, pulling the book Harry was reading towards him. He scanned the page for only several seconds before he looked up, smiling at Harry slightly. "Well, its no wonder it makes no sense to you. This isn't even the right book." He stood up and hurried to the stairs, only to return moments later with a stack of books. Harry was shocked, to see Malfoy excited over anything, much less excited over helping Harry.

Draco set a book down in front of Harry. "Page 492. Love potions. There should be enough information for most of your essay. But you also have to talk about why the love potions are illegal and why they were outlawed originally. Also you have to mention why they are so difficult to brew." Draco shook his head when Harry started to look confused. "Potter, listen." and he launched into an explanation about the complex brewing of the potion. After several minutes of explaining, he looked at Harry, "Does it make sense now?"

Harry nodded, peculiarly, it did. "Okay, when you're done let me see it, I'll check it for you." And with that he was gone out the portrait hole.
Harry stared at his paper wondering what the hell had just happened. Had Malfoy just been nice? Ron wouldn't believe it. He stopped at that thought. Ron was gone from him. He had seen him and Hermione out on the grounds that day, kissing... and more. They were both dead to him; he was completely and utterly alone in the wizarding world. His parents were dead, Sirius was dead, and his two best friends were now dead in his mind. All he had now, was this stupid connection to Draco Malfoy, which that was promising to make his life miserable.

Draco walked back into the small common room around 3 in the morning. He was quite drunk, having spent the evening and early morning hours back in the Slytherin common room with Blaise and Pansy. He stumbled in, almost falling on his face. He held his alcohol quite well, but he'd had an exceptional amount. In light of recent events, so he figured it was okay.

He looked at Harry, who was asleep on his Potions books at the table. He almost laughed aloud at how innocent Harry looked when he was asleep. Come to think of it... he did laugh. Draco walked over to Harry's sleeping form, and stared innocently at him. His perfect pink lips were slightly parted and his hair was messy as expected, sticking in every direction. Each breath he took barely ruffled the papers spread around him, but Draco was mesmerized. He only stood there for a second before the alcohol caused him sway, and to crumple by Harry's feet.

Harry awoke with a start, and almost looked quizzically at Draco, who was lying at his feet giggling.

"I fell over Harry." Draco told him, in case Harry had missed the obvious.

"I can see that Malfoy," Harry said, then scowled. "And, damn you Malfoy, don't call me Harry." He studied Draco for a moment and then it dawned on him. "How much have you had to drink?"

"A teensy little bit." he replied, motioning with two fingers, to show the "small" amount he had had.

"Right. Okay." Harry sighed. It was late, or rather, early, and he didn't want to deal with this. He raked his hair out of his eyes and stood up. "Can you stand?"

"Of course." Draco said, and proceeded to stand up, then collapse onto Harry in a fit of giggles.

"Um. I guess not." Harry moved Draco off of him and guided him to the couch, where he helped, or rather pushed, him to lie down. Harry looked down at Draco, and smirked in a very un-Harry-like manner. When he turned to leave, Draco spoke.

"Wait,." he called softly.

"Bloody hell, what now?" Harry groaned, not even turning around.

"Harry Potter," he paused, for what he considered, a necessary dramatic effect. "You look hot when you're asleep."

"Pardon?" Harry slowly turned around, and raised an eyebrow.

"Hot," Draco mumbled drunkenly. "Attractive."

"What the hell?" Harry exclaimed, frustrated for a reason he didn't understand. Draco looked up at him, his usually cold eyes were almost innocent, and his face didn't appear to be the usual stone wall.
He almost looked human, but then, something that can only be described as panic flashed through his eyes, and the next moment he threw up all over himself the couch and the floor. Harry just watched, dumbstruck as Draco coughed and burped and got everything out. Finally, Draco ceased.

Harry just groaned again. "This is not happening," he muttered to himself mostly because Draco was just lying there now completely transfixed by the mess he had made. Harry shuddered as the smell of liquor and bile reached his nose.

"You fucking owe me Malfoy. I should leave you here to choke on your own stomach acid." He muttered a quick cleaning spell and flung a thick chenille throw blanket over Draco.

"Thank you," Draco whispered.

"Don't thank me," Harry growled. "I already wish I left you crumpled on the floor by the table."

Draco grinned. Albeit it was a drunk smile and somewhat loopy, it was still a smile, and not a smirk. "Goodnight Boy-Who-Lived." And with that he passed out.

Well I really hope you all enjoyed it. I'm most likely going to put up a new chapter up every single week, most likely every Friday or Saturday.

Once again I would like to thank my good friend company calls epilogue for everything.

REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!

I COMMAND YOU

c ya