A/N: it doesn't make up for my lack of posting, i know, but here's the next chapter. please now that i love your reviews very much and i'm so beyond pleased that you're enjoying this story so far! thank you for your kind words and support!

"So, it seems our study group is growing," Draco says grouchily at breakfast.

"Oh?" Pansy says, arching an eyebrow.

"We're expanding to include Potter, Weasley, and Granger." Draco huffs. "This entire thing is ridiculous."

Pansy rolls her eyes. "You told me all about that last night, you know. But, my, Granger. I can only imagine what studying with her must be like." She makes a face of disgust. "She's so bossy. Honestly, I don't understand how any person could be that insufferable!"

"Bossy, hm? I suppose you were destined to be friends."

"It's not too late for me to leave you alone with the three of them," she says, voice low and dangerous.

"Right," Draco says, snickering. "She's awful. You two could never get along."

"You're an arsehole," Pansy mutters, kicking him under the table.

"Kindly, I must disagree." Draco pauses, then sighs. "But you can't seriously think that it's not a bad idea, can you? I mean . . ." He drums his fingers against the table in thought. "We're not all that . . . compatible."

"You are, though," Pansy says. When Draco shoots her a look, she shrugs. "Well, you're soulmates, aren't you? That's the point of it—compatibility. Maybe it seems a bit ridiculous, but . . . well, soulmates have been soulmates since the beginning of time. You've technically loved him for thousands of years."

"Not an overly reassuring thought."

"No? I think it's pretty amazing, really. Kind of an ironic thing, if you think about it."

"There's not a lot of 'thinking' to do about it, Pansy." Draco scowls. "He hates me."

"See, you keep saying that, but I don't exactly believe it. I imagine you're just . . . blowing it out of proportion. And trust me, darling, I do know all about the ridiculous little things you've done under my nose when it comes to Potter, but you're making it seem like you're eleven again." She frowns. "But you're not. And it's not exactly healthy to act like you are."

Draco opens his mouth to argue, but no words stand up. Pansy gives him a sad smile and stands up. "I wouldn't miss studying for the world, now would I? Even if it means studying with Granger. I'll most certainly be meeting you in the library later."

She turns and walks around, leaving Draco's mind reeling. What is he supposed to think, after all? He and Potter hate each other . . .

But, no, that's not right, his mind reminds him in a gentle whisper. He hasn't hated Potter in a long time. He never really has.

They share a Charms class first thing that morning. Draco catches Potter outside the Great Hall chatting with Granger and Weasley. Potter turns, muttering a small greeting.

"Yes, good morning, indeed," Draco says, scoffing.

"Did you talk to Parkinson?" Potter asks, deciding to avoid Draco's tone.

"I did," he answers stiffly. "She says, while it isn't exactly favourable, she'll continue to study with us until it's no longer necessary."

Weasley turns, not seeming to have heard anything other than Draco's tone of voice. "You sound like you've had a bad day, Malfoy," he says, smirking. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Ron, honestly—" Granger pulls his arm angrily, and Potter sighs. It seems this kind of exchange is rather common within the trio, Draco thinks. Granger and Wealsey seem to be in some kind of constant argument whenever Draco sees them.

"I don't expect this to be easy," Potter offers. "We've never really gotten along. Just . . . don't let it bother you too much. It's not going to change where we stand."

Where we stand. Draco shudders. Where does he stand? He started out in this for his mother, but now things have twisted to such a point that he can hardly remember why he's trying to reach his mother again at all. But all of it falls back on Potter, doesn't it? His father, thrown into prison for his mistakes at the Ministry, where Potter was; his mother, taken hostage for his father's fuck-ups. It all falls on Potter, but . . . he doesn't hate Potter. And that scares him, if even the slightest.

"Right," he says, hollow, and he turns and begins walking, not bothering to wait for Potter and his friends.

It's going to be a long day.

Pansy sees him at dinner and frowns. "It can't have been that bad."

"Oh, but it was," Draco says savagely. "Do you know how many people asked me what I thought I was doing, trailing behind Potter all day? And then Potter seemed to think I couldn't defend myself and he started talking back."

Pansy exhales loudly. "Come on, Draco, it's not that bad. At least he's not telling everyone the reason."

"Won't be long until they know, anyway," Draco grumbles. "Besides, you get to be part of it, now, too, you'll understand where I'm coming from."

"Oh, great, studying with Granger. Just what I always wanted."

"I'm starting to think you like her, Pans."

She makes a face of disgust. "As if."

Silence wraps around them after that, and shortly after Blaise plops down beside Pansy, wrapping an arm around her and smirking.

"Lessons with Potter must have been brilliant, then?"

Draco scowls, but chooses not to say anything.

"It could be worse," Pansy offers. "You could have to eat meals at the Gryffindor table."

Draco just groans.

Pansy finishes up and stands, pulling him to his feet beside her. He supposes he probably wouldn't have gotten up at all if not for her forcing him. Of course, Potter can't be too excited at the prospect of Draco being there while he writes his Potions essay, and the thought brightens his more than dampened mood, if slightly.

The day has been awful, completely, from the very first Charms class to the ending Potions class. Gryffindors spitting ridiculous remarks at him over his name, and sympathetic looks from Potter had just been the beginning. It got worse when completely spoiled his potion because his hands got a little too shaky after Finnigan and Thomas had made a mockery of him in the hall, where he was only saved by Potter snapped angrily at them. To which he was met with looks of concern and mingled anger by his so-called friends. House loyalty clearly isn't too big of a thing in Gryffindor, Draco thinks.

Potter and Weasley stand outside the Great Hall, clearly waiting for them. When Pansy comes to a halt beside the boys, Draco just behind her, Potter says, "We're just waiting on Hermione."

Weasley eyes Pansy curiously. "You didn't mention Parkinson would be joining us, Harry."

"Didn't feel I had to," Potter replies simply. He straightens as he spots Granger behind them, and she hustles towards them.

"Parkinson?" she asks, blinking.

"My," Pansy drawls, "nice to see I've been so greatly anticipated."

"Pansy, shut up," Draco mutters. "I don't want to fight."

"Well," Potter says cheerfully, "I suppose we'll be going, then?"

They all nod their agreement, and Potter leads them to the library. Few students are gathered to do their homework, and two Ravenclaw girls in the year below them glance up and frown, then immediately put their heads together, hardly stifling their giggles.

Draco scoffs and sits at the table, Pansy across from him and Potter on his left. Granger and Weasley sit next to a scowling Pansy, but she makes no comment.

"What was our Potions essay on, Draco?" Pansy asks quietly.

Rolling his eyes, Draco pulls out his completed essay and hands it to her easily.

"I didn't quite grasp the Charms," he tells her. They often trade their papers, and Granger raises an eyebrow at the exchange. It's been something they've done since their second year, when they realized that they lacked in some areas that the other was at least a little better. It's why they make such great study partners. Draco's always been spectacular at Potions and Transfiguration (and surprisingly not bad at Defence Against the Dark Arts), whereas Pansy has always excelled in her Charms work and Herbology. It's more natural, now, than it once was. Draco thinks that Pansy is a great part of his success in school (and he absolutely won't deny Pansy's grades are higher than they would be with him helping her as such).

Pansy reads over the essay and turns and incredulous eye on Draco. "I don't understand a word of this!" she whispers.

"I'm not the one who signed you up for N. .-level Potions!" Draco mutters, laughing. "Here, let me look. I'll explain it to you, you bloody idiot."

Weasley and Potter exchange a glance beside him, and Draco flushes. He, admittedly, had forgotten that they trio were there. Granger hides a smile behind her hair and continues to read her book.

"Not all of us are blessed to have had extra lessons from Snape," Pansy grumbles, sliding her chair over to peer over Draco's shoulder.

He rolls his eyes. "Not all of us are blessed with father's who don't make their child's teacher their godfather, either."

"He wasn't teaching then," Pansy points out. "Besides, he likes you more and you get better marks because of it." She shudders. "Unlike Longbottom."

"Don't tell me you feel sorry for someone?" Draco gasps mockingly, and she shoves him, a bit too hard. He bumps into Potter, and glances up, mortified.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"How do you two never get kicked out of the library?" Potter sounds awed, almost, and Draco can't help but smile.

"We sit far enough away, and we don't talk loudly," Draco says simply. He coughs and adds, "Also, we sometimes, ah, use silencing spells."

"Surprised she's just not afraid to kick you out because she thinks your father would get her sacked," Weasley mutters.

Draco taps his fingers against the table to mask the slight shakiness of his hands. "Yes, well, he's in prison, isn't he?"

"Er, I'm sorry, Malfoy," Potter offers. "I mean, it's my fault, isn't it? I was—"

Draco shares a baffled look with Pansy, then turns to face Potter again, slowly shaking his head. "I thought that at first, too," he says carefully, "but, I mean, it's been a relief for me. Perhaps I ought to thank you instead, but, well, really, it's not your fault, is it? He went there on his own, knowing what would happen."

Potter looks alarmed. "But—"

"No buts, Potter," Draco says. "My word is final."

And the subject falls. But Draco can see Granger hiding behind her book, and she's not really reading the words. No, she's looking up, and she's attempting to read Draco's face instead.

He turns away, but he can still feel her calculating gaze burning into him, like small needles on his skin

Walking to breakfast the next morning, someone grabs his wrist. A small hand, and Draco thinks it's Pansy at first, about to admonish him for leaving her in the common room, but turns to face Granger instead.

"Er, Malfoy," she starts, "I just wanted to, well—I wanted to ask you a question." The hand on his wrist falls to her side, and he looks down at her curiously. She seems to be shaking slightly, and Draco swallows.

"I don't see why not," he says slowly, and she seems to breathe again, quickly grabbing his arm and pulling him away from where a small stream of students are beginning to pass through.

"Look, I just wanted to, well, apologize for one." She gives him a small smile, and he meets her with only confusion. "It's my fault you and Harry were Bonded at all, and I don't think it's very enjoyable for either of you . . . I mean, what happens after this, right? I don't think Harry's considered it, but he's going to have to go after Voldemort, and, well, I don't expect you'll want to trail after him."

At "Voldemort," Draco stiffens. He hasn't considered it. What might happen to him when the Dark Lord kills Potter? He stays still and quiet for a moment, his head filling with all the potential problems that could arise, but he shuts them all down. He wants his mother to be safe. If he dies in the progress, well . . . it could be worse, couldn't it?

"It would have happened eventually," he finally says. "I do believe the magic won't rest until it's been properly established." He looks her over. "But you said you wanted to ask me a question."

"Right, well . . ." She looks at her hands, clearly embarrassed, then turns her gaze back up to Draco's. "Why couldn't you say it?"

He knows what she means, of course she does, and the answer falls off his lips before he can even consider what bad might come from saying the words at all. "I don't want to be my father."

She nods solemnly. "I thought, maybe. Thank you . . . Draco," she says, coughing and going pink in the face. She offers him a small smile before bolting off, and he wonders if maybe she's not so bad as he'd always thought she was.

Eventually, they fall into a pattern. It's easy, methodic. At some point, people stop talking. Sometimes Draco will catch someone whispering, but somehow the student body grew used to Draco and Potter in each other's company.

Draco found quickly that he gets along really well with Granger, after their conversation before breakfast that day. Old habits die hard, he will say, as he can't force himself to say her first name no matter how many times she irritably tells him to do so. And she's slow when saying his name, but he can't help but be touches by her effort.

It's been fifteen days exactly, by Draco's count, since Dumbledore insisted they do their best to make the Bond work. Occasionally, Draco will sigh and drag an exhausted Potter to the hospital wing, and they've yet to figure out whether or not the exhaustion is caused by the Bond, but Draco has a nagging suspicion that it is.

Pansy and Blaise have been the only thing keeping Draco completely sane, however. While Potter and Wealey could be worse, they tend to keep to themselves for the most part. Sometimes, Potter will engage in small conversations, but he seems to have some rather obvious reservations about it.

But Draco's almost . . . content. Of course, the looming threat of what will happen to his mother, to him . . . to Potter is terrifying, but he can't help but just . . . push it aside.

It's when Pansy finally asks him, "How do you plan to make this work?" that he decides he needs to solidify his course of action. And, to do so, he needs help.

Severus Snape was around a lot throughout Draco's childhood. While he had become frostier towards Lucius as the years had progressed, he never did completely leave. And for this Draco is infinitely grateful. Sometimes he thinks he would have much preferred Severus as father than his own father, but then . . . he shudders at the thought. No, Severus isn't the type he'd want as a parent. As a godparent, though . . . well, that's different.

It also brings great relief to know that there is someone within the confines of the school who's trustworthy and has at least some kind of power or authority. Not that Pansy and Blaise aren't wonderful, but . . . they can't exactly do anything to help him.

So, he's here now, knocking on Snape's office door after dinner, feeling perhaps a bit too desperate. He's evaded Potter by letting Pansy know that he needed to grab something from his dorm. Which wasn't entirely untrue, but it's mostly just an excuse.

The door opens to reveal Severus, who looks surprised to see him.

"Come in," he says, stepping aside.

Draco does as told, and sits across from Severus at his desk.

"What can I help you with, Draco?"

"It's my mother," Draco says. "I don't know if . . ." He trails off.

"I'm aware of the situation, yes." Severus frowns. "Your mother came to me shortly after Lucius's imprisonment with concerns regarding you. She said she had made arrangements for your aunt to watch you throughout the rest of the summer should she be targeted, but had asked me to see if I couldn't assist you in whatever might come."

"She knew, then?" Draco's heart sinks. He had hoped, but . . . it's not much of a surprise, if he's perfectly honest.

"Well, not entirely, but, yes, I suppose she did. But the task you've been given—"

"I can do it," Draco says quickly. "But I don't know how I'm supposed to get off school grounds."

Severus's eyes flash briefly, but it's gone before Draco can be sure it was even there at all. He passes it off as the lights, and looks to his godfather hopefully.

"I may be able to assist you," he says slowly. "But it would not be safe. I assume you have some kind of plan?"

"I—well, yes, but I'm not entirely sure . . . what would happen to me." Draco coughs, feeling his cheeks heat.

"Why would that be?"

Though it seems odd that he wouldn't know already, Draco launches into an explanation of the past month or so, and Severus nods at the end.

"I suppose we will need to research," he says quietly. "But in the meantime, I would suggest doing what you can to continue getting on his good side. Do remember that you are not a bad person for wishing your mother to return, Draco, merely human." He smiles waspishly. "Perhaps it is a little too human for us to put others in the face of danger to protect those we love. Be warned, it may not turn out well in the end, though."

Draco stares at him mutely, before shaking his head. "Right," he mutters. "Thank you, Severus."

He stands and walks out, and, if it's possible, he feels worse than he did before.