Blood Ties.

Harry could feel the miserable gazes against his back as he tucked into his breakfast the next morning, but he forced himself not to look around, knowing he couldn't reassure his friends that he didn't hate them. After all, the part he was playing required him to pretend like he hated them, at least, though no one else in the school had been informed of what had happened.

Draco and Severus couldn't entirely understand his forgiveness of Ron, Hermione and Ginny, but for him it was perfectly simple. They knew that the 'real' Harry would not want to live as some pure-blood, bigoted plaything to Draco Malfoy. He'd have rather died than become what he was now pretending to be, and since they didn't think they had any other option, they did what they thought was necessary. It was no different than him letting Voldemort...

He shook off his thoughts as his stomach rolled over and threatened to reject the kippers and eggs he'd just eaten. They were all caught in a web of deception that, while not enjoyable, was essential. Hell, if anyone was going to slice him up to remove a fictional gland and save him from his darker self, he'd want it to be his best mates.

"You look pale this morning, Harry. Is Draco wearing you out?"

Blaise's deep, silky voice intruded on his thoughts and he glanced up, automatically shifting on the bench to put his lap out of reach of the other boy's infamously roaming feet.

"Not anymore than I can handle, Blaise."

He purposefully smirked suggestively and sipped his pumpkin juice, casting a glance toward the professor's table and catching Snape with a very out of character look of concern. He flashed the tiniest of smiles, and it seemed to snap the Potion's Master back into himself, earning him a frown.

"If you ever get tired of handling him, you can always handle me."

Harry suppressed a groan at Blaise's rather uninspired flirting and glanced to him, quirking one brow in a manner meant to look both arrogant and disparaging. He'd learned that trick from his first meeting with Lucius Malfoy.

"Did you enjoy being hexed by Draco so much that you want him to do it again, Zabini, or are you just dumber than Crabbe and Goyle put together?"

The stunned expression on the handsome boy's face made him want to laugh, but he merely stood and walked from the Great Hall, unable to resist grinning in amusement.

~~:~~

"Harry! Will you pay attention to what I'm saying instead of staring at my mouth?"

Draco was trying to sound stern, but the little smile on his lips was giving away his enjoyment in the fact that Harry couldn't seem to stop getting lost in the way his lips moved as he spoke. Harry sighed and shifted, sitting up with a little pout.

"I'm sorry, but your mouth is ten times more interesting than Transfiguration homework."

He leaned over and took a soft, languid sip from the sweet waters of Draco's lips, letting his tongue lightly skate over their fullness before settling back with another heavy sigh of disappointment.

"Why can't there be a class on snogging Draco Malfoy? I'm sure I'd ace it."

Draco smirked and batted a crumpled bit of parchment at him, shaking his head.

"You'd let others take such a course, would you?"

Harry's brow furrowed and he shook his head, flopping back in his seat and staring up at the ceiling.

"No, I most certainly would not. I'd be the only pupil and you could be my professor."

He paused and grinned devilishly, lowering his head to peer at Draco, eyes glittering.

"Professor Malfoy. I kind of like the ring of that. I know I'd much prefer your detentions to Snape's."

Draco's smirk widened and he reached across to swat the back of Harry's hand, eyes glinting like sun-stroked steel.

"I wouldn't count on that, Mr. Potter. You might think that just because you're shagging the professor you'll get deferential treatment, but I would have to be even more strict with you to keep you in line."

A shiver went shooting along Harry's spine at the husky note to Draco's voice and the wicked gleam in his eyes, finding something incredibly thrilling in the game they were playing.

"How strict, Professor Malfoy? Would you make me write lines, or weed the gardens?"

~~:~~

Draco bit back a groan at the rumble in Harry's voice, realizing that the brunette found the teasing just as arousing as he did. Hearing Harry call him Professor Malfoy was making his trousers terribly tight, and he was suddenly wondering what it would be like to play out this scene in an empty classroom.

"Of course not, Mr. Potter. I might give lines to an ordinary student, but you would require a much more...hands-on approach to discipline."

He studied Harry's reaction to his words, mind already planning out how he could procure them a classroom one night for a very interesting and erotic roleplaying session. When he saw Harry's eyes widen and heard the little growl the other wasn't quick enough to suppress, he felt his cock twitch in his pants and took a deep breath.

"Harry, stop. I think it would be better to save this game for a night we can fully enjoy it. We have work to do, and then later...well..."

Harry's eyes lost that appealing glimmer of lust and he groaned, frowning deeply.

"Voldemort."

Draco reached across and took his hand, squeezing it gently and nodding.

"Exactly. I'd rather not have him hanging over our heads while we're...together, you know? Tomorrow night I'll make sure we have a classroom and we can fully explore that little scenario you just came up with, alright?"

Harry grunted and gave a reluctant nod, staring down at his half-finished homework looking very much like a small boy who's been told he must complete his chores before going to play.

"Fine. At least tonight neither of us has to...you know."

Draco exhaled and nodded, infinitely relieved over that fact, though whatever Voldemort did want them for wasn't going to be a walk in the park. He sighed and tried to focus on his schoolwork, deciding they would simply have to cross that nasty bridge when they came to it.