Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis 10/11?
Title: Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis 10/11?
Pairing: Harry/Draco/Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters are definitely not mine, nor is the Harry Potter Universe. I am only borrowing them for my own perverted amusement. No money is made.
Summary: Draco needs an O on his Potions N.E.W.T. to even think about a Potions Mastery, which means he has to go back to Hogwarts for the "eighth year." He has plans to keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and just survive. Enter the Golden Trio who decide that's a bad idea and drag Draco right into the middle of their secret.
A/N: Elemental fic. Lots of magic. Some misuse of magic because I'm pretty sure JK Rowling did not intend for magic to make sex kinky. There are some master/sub themes and some light bondage.
This belongs in the category of EWE (Epilogue? What Epilogue?). It is Book 7 compliant. Mostly. It's been a long time since I read book 7.
This is cross-posted on my Ao3 "ddelusionall" account: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11926701/chapters/26956032
Part 10: A Grave Man
Draco woke up in the Infirmary. The quiet gave it away. Even in the dorms at the top of a tower or in the bowels of the dungeon there was noise.
But here ... everything stood still. No dust mites floated through sunbeams. No air flowed through windows. Though as soon as he thought that, a small breeze blew against his skin.
A small pulse of light flared around him. A magic detector. Draco attempted to stop the breeze, but the light pulsed a bit brighter.
Madame Pomfrey shuffled over with a small smile and a vial of potion. “Drink this, Mister Malfoy.”
Draco did, recognizing a strengthening potion. But it tasted a bit different and magic twisted through him with a quiet rumble. Like thunder.
Tilting her head, Madame Pomfrey watched his reaction. And she nodded once. “Just as I thought. Are you hungry, dear?”
He wanted to ask what Just as I thought meant, but his stomach grumbled in reply.
With a smile, she moved away. “Eat everything I give you, no complaints.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And he did, with relish. He felt like an empty cauldron even after the steak and the beans and vegetables that seemed to replenish almost as fast as he could eat.
As soon as the plate vanished, the Infirmary door opened and the Golden Trio walked in. They all looked like they hadn’t slept well, even Harry who always looked a bit disheveled. The T-shirt he wore was wrinkled more, his jeans hanging almost off his thin frame. His long hair was pulled back in mostly a ponytail with bits of hair flying everywhere. Hermione was wearing sweatpants, which was really odd for her, until Draco noted that they were a pair of Harry’s. Her hair was a wild mess about her head. Ron, as always looked pretty fit in his T-shirt and jeans, but his face was tried, mouth turned in a frown. All three of them were sporting bags under their eyes.
Harry was first there, laying almost in the bed with him. Hermione stayed standing, arms crossed, looking at the ground. Ron sat on the other side of his bed and took Draco’s hand. It was warm.
And breathtaking. Draco felt himself flush and he squeezed, turning into Harry a bit to hide the blush on his cheeks. He was not supposed to be in love with Ronald Weasley, but based on the ache in his chest and the way his emotions flared at the simple touch meant that he was on his way there. Damn that sodding redhead.
“We’re sorry,” Harry whispered. “We have no idea ... no idea what’s wrong with you. We were all tired like this too, but we got stronger. You’re getting weaker.”
“What day is it?” Draco asked.
“Just Saturday, about three, now. Harry found you passed out on the floor of your room yesterday before dinner. Alastor said you were supposed to meet him for flying. We brought you here this morning when you didn’t get better.”
Draco opened his mouth to tell them he was okay, and then a sharp pain flared through his chest. He gasped, eyes open wide. It hurt more than the Sectumsempra curse. It hurt more than Buckbeak biting his arm. It hurt almost as much as the Cruciatus.
He heard someone tell him to breathe. The pain pulsed for a long minute before fading to a heavy ache. Draco fell back to the bed, trying to stabilize his breathing. Trying to see through foggy vision.
Harry frowned at him and touched his face. “We’re so sorry. We didn’t mean ...” He bit his lower lip as Madame Pomfrey drew closer, her wand dancing about in a complicated twist. A blue series of spells twisted through Draco and then Harry.
“Why do you need to look at Harry?” Hermione asked.
“Quiet, child,” Madame Pomfrey said. “Diagnostics. Magical ones. Harry and Draco are connected in some way and I’m just testing a theory.”
A few minutes later, the door to the Infirmary opened again, and McGonagall almost stomped through it. She stopped when she saw them and sighed, hands on her hips.
“Oh Merlin,” McGonagall said. “You three. Now what?”
The three of them did not meet her eyes, looking at each other.
Madame Pomfrey came over to her and whispered in her ear. Her eyes went wide. “You’re certain?”
Madame Pomfrey nodded.
Her eyes softened a bit and she said, “Okay, explain.”
Draco snorted from the bed. “That’s easy. They’re idiots. Sodding Gryffindor imbeciles.”
“Mister Malfoy, your language please.” McGonagall waved a hand and an armchair appeared out of nowhere. “I have a feeling that I should sit down for this.”
Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron and then sighed, “We bonded. Over the summer,” she started.
“Well, congratulations. I am sure Molly is happy about that, or she would be, but she doesn’t know, does she?”
“No,” Hermione said. “And well, it’s because it is not just Ron and me. The three of us, we bonded. Together.”
“That is slightly more complicated, but that doesn’t explain why Draco Malfoy is in the infirmary with his magical core being slowly sucked away.”
Harry gasped. “What?”
McGonagall nodded. “Yes. His magical core is unstable. It is weakening. The only way that can happen is if someone powerful is taking it.”
Harry glanced at Draco, eyes full of fear. “Fucking bugger--”
“Language, Mister Potter.”
Hermione shut her eyes and took a very deep breath. “The bond ... it’s very ... strong. We ... we ...”
“We can’t dance around this, ‘Mione,” Ron said. “Not with Draco in danger.”
Hermione inhaled deeply again and nodded.
Ron held out his hand. A flicker of flame danced on his palm. “We’re Elemental Wizards. We bonded with the Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis Elemental bond.”
McGonagall stared at him in shock, her mouth open and her eyes wide.
It was quiet for a long moment before she said, “The Founders Bond? Are you three insane?”
Draco laughed. “That was my reaction.”
“How did you even manage that? At your age? How did you do this without having a Ventus? Oh really, Miss Granger, it is obvious which one of you is which now that I know. And how is it that Mister Malfoy is lying here with his magic depleting?”
Hermione launched into her explanation of finding the journals and going to Turkey and how Harry had been certain that Draco was meant to be their Ventus.
“This is so dangerous,” Professor McGonagall said. “How could you be so stupid to attempt this with only three people when you were aware of the risks?”
Hermione stared back at her defiantly. “Because we’re in love. We always have been. And dying while attempting was better than not being together forever.”
“So how did Draco get dragged into this?”
Draco tried to laugh through another shot of pain. “Dragged. Shagged, whatever.”
“We didn’t mean to really tell him,” Harry said. “We were going to befriend him and then ... well, it happened sooner than we expected, and now ... we ... he’s feeling the effects of the bond, but he isn’t in it, and now ... shite. Am I doing this to him?” He glanced at Madame Pomfrey.
She frowned and nodded. “The connection between your magical signatures was strong after the war.”
“How though?” Hermione said. “I don’t understand why he’s being affected so much.”
“That’s because you didn’t think before you decided to attempt a Founder’s Bond with only three people,” McGonagall said. “You are so lucky that all four of you are not dead.”
“Without them, I’d rather be,” Hermione said. “We were willing to risk it.”
“And risk Draco?”
“We didn’t know--”
“And if you had asked someone with a bit more knowledge on magical theories and bondings, they would have been able to tell you!” she almost shouted.
Outside of the final battle, it was the first time Draco had heard Professor McGonagall raise her voice in such a shrill shout.
“Wait,” Draco said. “Professor, do you know how I became part of their bond?”
“You aren’t part of it,” she said and shook her head. “If you were, you would not be lying there with your magic being siphoned away. But I do know how Mister Potter is draining away your magic. You owe him a life debt.”
“What?” Harry said. “He doesn’t!”
“You saved his life in the Room of Requirement.”
“And then I spoke at his trial--”
“That was not enough,” she continued. “That wasn’t magical. That wasn’t a matter of life or death. You may have considered it payback and considered the two of you even, but the magicks obviously did not. Mister Malfoy was not going to die if he went to Azkaban. But now, the life debt is calling in.”
“By taking his magic?”
“Yes. Without you in this bond, Mister Malfoy, all three of them would have died in the middle of the ritual. The life debt connected your magics, and now the life debt is keeping Mister Potter alive.”
Silence fell.
Draco felt empty again. But not hungry. Just ... just empty.
“Other ... other people owe him life debts,” Ron said quietly. His grip on Draco’s hand was almost breaking bones.
“Yes,” she nodded. “And when you made the bond, it reached for the one who was most connected to Mister Potter. Using his wand, using curses against each other through school, being the same age as him, near magical powers, all of those reasons would have been why Mister Malfoy was first in line.”
“But how ...” Draco started. “I mean, they completed the bond in August. I was fine at the Manor.”
Professor McGonagall smiled at him. “Maybe, but if I remember correctly, Mister Malfoy, you were not going to come back to Hogwarts, and then you changed your mind.”
Draco opened his mouth and then nodded. “In August. I did ... I ... I felt like I was missing something important. I talked with Mother and she said it was direction in my life. Without ... I am not a Malfoy, not in the same way, and she ... I ... I wasn’t going to come back.”
“Mister Potter was pulling at you, even then. The bond needs to be close to its holders.”
It was quiet again and Draco bit his lip against more pain. “Shite, buggering fuck, this hurts.”
He breathed deeply, and Harry kissed his neck. That helped a little bit while the pain weaved through him.
“So what can we do?” Hermione whispered, her voice small.
“First, Mister Potter and Mister Malfoy should not be separated. Think of your magic as a string,” she said. “It’s being pulled, so when you’re away from each other, there’s more of your magic outside of yourself. And second ...” She took a deep breath. “I’ll need to contact Diamber Whetle.”
Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “She ... she ... she’s alive?”
“Yes, she is alive. She created the Elemental Bond,” McGonagall said. “She and her bondmates are happily living in Paris, I believe.”
“But ... that’s ... that’s impossible. She’s over two thousand years old.”
“The Elemental Bond calls upon the earth itself to keep the bondmates alive and together. You have unwittingly given yourself a form of immortality. If you do not die, then you will live almost forever.”
“Bugger,” Draco gasped. “How ...”
McGonagall shook her head. “The Elemental Bond has only been successfully completed three times. And now four. The Founders ...” She took a deep breath. “Gryffindor killed them all. Out of heartbreak, out of grief, after Slytherin left. He poisoned himself. You can be killed and you can kill yourself. But you will age slowly, and you do not get sick anymore.”
Hermione wavered on her feet and Ron shot up from the bed to catch her before her knees collapsed.
“Oh, god ... what ... what have we done?” she gasped.
Ron whispered something to her and Harry curled up closer to Draco, face buried in his neck.
McGonagall stood up and the chair disappeared. “The four of you will remain here, in a private room, until this is fixed. You will not attend classes. You will not leave this Infirmary. The closer the four of you are together, the less likely it is that Mister Malfoy’s magical signature will be drained as quickly. Try not to do any magic. Each time you do, you pull a bit more from Mister Malfoy. And the four of you, do not, under any circumstances have any sort of intercourse, oral or otherwise, until I contact Mrs. Whetle.”
“Professor?” Harry said just before she walked out the door.
She stopped and turned.
“You said this was only done four times. Diamber Whetle, the Founders, us ... when was the fourth?”
She smiled and glanced at Madame Pomfrey. “Never you mind that, Mister Potter.” She spun out of the room. Madame Pomfrey glanced at them with a smile on her face before going into her office.
“Do you think she--?” Ron started. His eyes went wide. “Blimey.”
“But with who?” Hermione whispered. “Pomfrey?”
“Sprout, maybe?” Harry said. “She is really good with plants.”
Ron made a face. “I now have a good way to keep my prick under control. Thanks for that visual, mate.”
Harry laughed.
Draco tried, but he just felt so tired.
Harry’s smile fell at Draco’s soft moan and he slipped into the bed with him, head on his chest and sighed. “I’m so sorry.”
Draco swallowed. “The broom was a great idea.”
The three of them laughed, and then silence fell and Draco stared up at the ceiling for a long time, contemplating ... this. Whatever this was. He was mostly immortal. Or he would be if Harry didn’t kill him first. Not immortal. He could still be killed. Someone could still see him on the street and exact revenge. Someone could poison him. Or he could do it himself. Like Gryffindor did. But he was not tied so closely to his bondmates, at least not yet. Would he? Would he learn to love all three of them?
If he was already recognizing feelings for Ron, then the answer was yes. A Malfoy, in love with a Weasley? There were so many of his ancestors turning in their graves.
---
When Draco woke up, Harry was still in bed with him. On top of him, head on his chest, legs twisted in the blanket. Hermione and Ron were curled up on the next bed. He wasn’t sure if they were asleep or not.
It was still, quiet, relaxing. Or it would be relaxing if he hadn’t remembered that the Chosen One was sucking out his magical core.
Draco snorted and Harry lifted his head. “What?”
“Nothing,” Draco said and did not stop their lips from touching.
“Madame Pomfrey said you were going to be hungry when you woke up.”
“I seem to always be hungry these days.”
Harry smiled and pushed himself up and off the bed. He headed for Pomfrey’s office.
“All right, beautiful?” Ron asked.
Draco felt the flush on his cheeks and he nodded. “Good as can be expected.”
Ron smiled.
“It’s been really hard the last few hours to stop using magic,” Hermione said. “Really hard. We’ve been taking our abilities for granted, and just a couple hours ago, we made tea without even realizing it, and then Madame Pomfrey was ... she has threatened us with magical inhibitors if we can’t control ourselves. We’re so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“Not all your fault, love,” Ron said and hooked his hand around her neck and kissed her cheek.
Hermione pursed her lips and kept her eyes on Draco. Draco stared a bit longer and looked away. He wasn’t quite ready to grant forgiveness. They’d dragged him into an immortality that he did not want.
“I wonder if Voldemort knew about this bond,” Ron said.
Draco flinched. “What?”
Ron shrugged. “A form of immortality. Why didn’t he try it?”
“He’d have to share power,” Harry said immediately. “There’s no way that Tom Riddle would have ever shared his throne.”
“That is very true,” Draco said. “My father told me once that he feared for his life because Death Eaters sometimes turned to him for guidance when they were unclear of the Dark Lord’s intentions.”
“I doubt Voldemort knew about it,” Hermione said.
“Heir of Slytherin though,” Harry said. “He had to have known something so important about Slytherin. The man built the Chamber of Secrets for crying out loud.”
“Wait? What?”
Harry took a deep breath. “You don’t know about the Chamber of Secrets?”
“I mean I know about it, of course, what Hogwarts student doesn’t? But who built it? The Dark Lord?”
Harry exchanged a look with the other three. In that moment of silence, Pomfrey bustled in with food for all four of them.
Harry waited until Draco had started eating, and then he said, “Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you about stuff.”
“Like what?” Draco asked, between bites.
“Well, everything.”
He started with before he knew he was a wizard, living with the Dursleys, and then Hagrid, and then first year with the complications of Snape and Quirrell, and then second year, the Chamber of Secrets, and sneaking into the Slytherin dorms.
Draco laughed. “Merlin’s balls, Potter! I was wondering what was wrong with those two. I just thought they were being stupid or ate one of those Weasley candies!”
He continued into third year, and Hermione explained why she’d punched him, about Harry hearing his mother’s screams when the Dementors came near. Draco huffed, and apologized with a squeeze to his hand. Harry smiled at him, like he didn’t need to actually say the words. He probably didn’t. He did anyway.
It took all three of them to give details about fourth year and the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But only at the first task, Draco felt exhausted again.
“Sleep,” Harry said. “We’re here for the foreseeable future.” Harry pattered around him, tucking him in, kissing his cheek.
Draco was too tired to be angry about it, and he smiled when warm lips pressed against his for a moment. And this time, instead of Harry curling up in the bed with him, it was Ron.
“I’m going to get a house-elf to bring us our books so we can keep up with our classes,” Hermione said.
Draco felt Ron snort, and he buried his face against Ron’s neck, secure in the strong arms wrapped around him, and he slept to the sounds of the three of them bickering about studies.
“Well, we still need our N.E.W.T.s,” was the last thing Draco heard Hermione say.
---
Draco woke up well into the night. He had been moved, and sitting up, he noted they were in a different room. It was round, with two beds on either side of a wide window seat. The darkness beyond the windows was dotted with bright stars. In the middle of the room sat a long desk covered in their school books. Two armchairs were set up around a small coffee table. There were shelves and armoires built into the walls. A single door led to a bathroom. As with everything in the Infirmary, the blankets, hangings, beddings and furniture were all white. But Draco did not see another door as an exit.
A single lamp was lit on the desk, revealing Ron hunched over a chessboard. The pieces were spread out like in the middle of a game, and Ron was rolling a bishop around his fingers, across his knuckles and over the back of his hand in an intricate display.
Both Hermione and Harry were asleep in the other bed.
Draco sat up and stretched, and Ron smiled over at him. “All right, Ferret?”
Draco smiled. “I think so. What time is it?”
“Two in the morning. You’ve been sleeping all day. Madame Pomfrey went to bed hours ago, but she said that you could call on the house-elves for food at any time.”
“I am a little hungry,” Draco said, like it was something abnormal.
And he was stiff. He twisted, arms bent and about chest level, and then leaned over the edge of the bed. He held the stretch a bit longer and then got out of the bed. He really felt stiff, trying to stand, so he stayed bent over and touched his toes, controlling his breathing.
A water-infused massage from Hermione sounded good just about then.
Draco moved to a more open area of the room and stood still for a moment, eyes shut, calming himself down, breathing deep. The pain in his chest had lessened considerably. When he felt relatively steady, he started stretching again, going through a few yoga poses. He heard Ron speaking with a house-elf, and then the smell of chicken and potatoes hit his nose, and he gave up on the stretching and went to the desk.
Ron chuckled at him when he sat eagerly and started eating almost too fast.
He ignored the touch of fingers on his neck because he had to. If he didn’t, he and Ron would completely break Professor McGonagall’s order not to have sex.
When he was finally full (the plate kept refilling again), he leaned back and pushed the plate away. It disappeared.
“Are you tired again?” Ron asked, careful to whisper.
Draco shook his head. “No. I’ve slept for almost two days.”
“What about the pain?”
Draco shut his eyes. “There’s still a dull ache.” He touched his chest. “But it hasn’t flared yet, so that’s good.”
“Yeah. I’m sure Hermione would make you study since you’re awake, but we can play chess for a little while.”
Draco smiled at him and said, “Sounds like a good idea to me.”
The board was Ron’s, so the black pieces were incredibly stubborn about following Draco’s directions. It got to the point that he had to pick them up and plop them where he wanted. When he almost beat Ron that first game, the pieces grudgingly admitted that he played well and started to listen to him through the second and third game.
“I love playing against you,” Ron said in the middle of their fourth. “You actually think like a strategist, and you are actually competition.”
“Such flattery, Weasel.” Draco had his fingers on a stubborn bishop when Ron reached over and brushed a fingertip over his lips.
Draco snapped his head up, even as he blushed.
“Except in bed,” Ron said and a slow smirk. “But you don’t mind letting me win in bed, do you, beautiful?”
Draco flushed a bit darker and jerked his face away from Ron’s fingers. Lust flashed through him, a hard twist of emotions, and he bit his lip. He did not moan out loud. He was too well-bred for that, thank you very much. But his pyjama bottoms were suddenly too tight. With a huff, he went back to the game and swiped Ron’s rook with the stubborn bishop.
“Bugger,” Ron muttered. “I was hoping I could distract you from that move.”
Draco smirked at him. “Nice try, Weasel. Go.”
Draco still lost that game. But it was close. One day soon, he’d beat Ron. Maybe not soon. Maybe in a hundred years.
It was so disconcerting to think about that.
Afterwards, he and Ron climbed back into bed to rest. Ron wasn’t sure if he’d sleep again, but curled up with his warmth, Draco had no problems at all relaxing for a little while.
---
Draco was weak and groggy again later on in the morning. But he got up and sat at the table to eat, and then Harry helped him with a shower.
“You should keep up on your schoolwork, Draco,” Hermione said when he sat back down at the chessboard.
Draco snorted. “Why? If you lot are draining away my magic and turning me into a Squib, then school doesn’t really matter.”
Hermione frowned. “We’re trying to figure that out.”
“And what if you can’t add me to your bond, then what? I’m your useless little servant until my magical core runs dry and then I die, and you all die. So well done.”
“It isn’t ... our ... we didn’t know,” Hermione started.
“We don’t want you to die,” Harry said, lips against his neck. “We don’t. We love you.”
Draco pushed him away and stared at him with narrowed eyes. He spared a glance at the other two. “You don’t love me, Potter. The bond does.”
“Maybe at first, but--”
“Please shut up,” Draco said. “Just ... don’t talk about the bond, okay?”
Harry frowned and then nodded. “We’re just as scared as you are, Dray.”
“Shut up.”
“Emotions a little wild?” Professor McGonagall said from the door.
They all jumped in surprise.
She smiled. “Understandable. Please get presentable. Diamber Whetle and her three bondmates just arrived at the castle. I made an announcement at breakfast that we received a death threat for the four of you and that you’ve been removed from the school for your protection and for the protection of the students. I told all the teachers that the Aurors will be working on tracing spells for the threat, and you’ll be allowed to return when the threat is gone. You will remain here until we can figure out how to keep Mister Malfoy, and in turn, you three, from dying.”
Draco glanced down at the chessboard and sighed. He really did not want to die. Maybe a few months ago ... after his father’s death, but now ...
He pushed away from the table and headed to the wardrobe. His head went light and the world tilted, and he fell into Ron.
“I’ve got you, mate,” Ron said against the top of his head. “We’ve all got you.”
Draco swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to push Ron away. He moved, but not far, just far enough that Draco was able to get his clothes and start dressing. His hands fumbled on the tie at his neck and Hermione huffed, moving over to help his fingers that would not work.
“Go sit down, please,” she said. “I cannot give you a magical boost right now.”
Draco sighed and let Hermione hug him, arms around his waist, and then Ron hugged them both. He did not say it out loud, but even without magic, their presence was soothing and uplifting.
Hermione lifted her head, and Draco frowned at her tears. “I am sorry. Please. I am sorry.”
Draco shut his eyes and nodded. “I know. I’m going to be bloody angry for a while though.”
“You have every right.”
“Not too long,” Harry said, joining their circle by trying to squeeze between Hermione and Draco.
“Just long enough for makeup sex,” Ron said.
The others chuckled and then hugged tightly.
“Ah, young love,” a voice said near the door, causing all four to jump in surprise again.
“Delusional love,” one of the others muttered.
“Do be quiet, Henri.”
Four people walked into the room, followed by Professor Mcgonagall and Madame Pomfrey. Two women and two men. All four looked rather old, and if this really was Diamber Whetle, they were over two thousand years old.
Draco swallowed roughly.
They were dressed in fashionable robes, red and deep purple for the two women and a green and vibrant blue for the two men. The first one that had spoken wore the red robe. Her graying hair was pulled up into a bun, much like Professor McGonagall’s. The other woman’s hair was black and left long down her back. Both men had brown hair, and one was much taller than the other.
“Diamber,” Professor McGonagall said. “These are the four miscreants I told you about.”
The woman in red smiled and said, “Hello, fellow Elemental Wizards. I heard you may have cocked things up a bit.”
“We ...” Hermione took a deep breath. “I didn’t know ...”
She waved her hand at Hermione. “Neither did I, child. Neither did I. Introductions, then. I am Diamber Whetle, Fire Witch.” She held up a hand and fire burned at her fingertips. “Henri is our Aqua, Sophia our Ventus, and Julian our Terra.”
“I can’t ...” Hermione looked pale, mouth opening and closing.
Draco led and stepped forward. “I’m Draco Malfoy.”
“A wretched family,” Julian muttered.
Diamber shushed him harshly.
“It’s all right,” Draco said. “I’m used to that sentiment. I’m trying to be better. This is the Golden Trio.”
“Draco,” Harry hissed.
Draco smiled. “Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.”
“Yes,” Henri said. “We have heard much about the strong wizard Harry and the brightest witch of this time, Miss Granger.” He glanced at Professor McGonagall who actually rolled her eyes. “You’ve given Minerva quite a bit of an ulcer the last few years.”
Draco found himself under four intense scrutiny. Green eyes, blue eyes, wavering dark, grey eyes, and almost black, so brown. Their eye color matched their powers. Draco glanced at Harry who did have green eyes, but Hermione’s were brown and Ron’s were blue. Maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe it did. Ron’s eyes had gone dark and fiery when they were alone the other day.
“You are not connected,” Diamber noted.
Draco nodded. “Yep. That’s me. I’m the one these buggers have dragged into this bond.”
Sophia tilted her head at him. “Ventus. Wind runs through you. It is not just because of that.”
“What?”
She smiled. “Wind. You are comfortable on a broom?”
Draco nodded. “It’s my favorite thing, besides potions.”
“And potions work because of the reaction the ingredients have with the air,” Sophia continued. “It is always an ingredient that potion masters forget about. Magic is of the earth, children. I know you do not learn a lot of theory while you’re learning to control yourselves. Have you ever wondered where magic comes from? The earth has energy, and that energy is released as magic. Earth is made of land, wind, air, fire. Essentially, all wizards are elemental wizards.”
“This bond,” Henri continued, a slight French accent in his words, “strengthens the wizards’ connection to the earth. But there is a balance in all things. One wizard cannot strengthen that wizard without three others. There would be too much power. And so the bond ties four together.”
“It ties your magical signatures together,” Diamber explained. “Much of which you already figured out. But without Young Draco actually being part of the bond, when you lot pull at his magical signature, he cannot pull at yours in return to remain whole.”
“Can we fix this?” Ron asked.
“We can try,” she said. “Or well, you four can try.”
“How?” Hermione asked.
“Do the ritual again,” Henri said.
“Not the entire thing,” Sophia added.
“There is a specific moment, a specific time when your magical signatures are connected,” Diamber said. “You need to replicate that moment in the bond. I do not believe you will need to do the entire thing.”
“When is that moment?” Harry asked.
“Drinking the potion mixed with all your essences, your blood, your pleasure, your love.”
“Isn’t there a simple bonding spell that can tie them together?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“No,” Diamber said. “This is anything but simple. So far, what we have discussed is only theory. This has never been done before.”
“I would be worried about the wild magicks escaping without the circle,” Sophia said.
“But will it work?” Julian asked. “The bond is already in place. This could destroy them.”
“We were prepared for that already,” Hermione said, tilting her head up in defiance. “We were ready for it to fail. Dying is better than not being together.”
“Says you!” Draco shouted. “I am not ready to die!”
“You will,” Madame Pomfrey said. “They will slowly drain your magic away and a wizard without his magic is dead, and then the three of them will follow.”
“The entire ritual is going to need to be done again,” Julian said. “There is no way out of it. The actual exact moment of their magicks being tied together is not know. It is the entire ritual that does it. You cannot attempt to thwart it. The safest way is to do it all again.”
Diamber lowered her head and nodded. “Where did you do the first ritual?”
“Grimmauld place,” Harry answered.
“We need to have everything be the exact same as the first time. The same goblets. The same trimonion berry bush. The same spot as the first magic circle. Complicating those things will make the revision of the bond less likely to work.”
“It will be a week before you can do it. I need to brew the potion for you to use,” Sophia said.
“This is insane,” Draco muttered. “You are all crazy.”
“It needs to be done,” Hermione said.
Draco glared at her. “I’m so blaming you for this, Granger.”
“Draco, come on,” Harry said. “It isn’t--”
“It is!” Draco shouted. “All three of you ... just ... fucking hell.”
“Can we have a moment?” Ron asked their audience.
McGonagall and Diamber exchanged a look and nodded.
“It is always good to talk out your disagreements,” Sophia said. “Remember, if this works, you are going to be disagreeing with each other for a very long time.” She smiled.
Draco shut his eyes and listened as they all left.
“I don’t want to die,” Draco said in the heavy silence.
“Neither do we,” Ron said.
Warm fingers brushed over his cheek. “It’s death either way,” Draco whispered. “I have no choice.”
Someone sort of sobbed.
“It won’t be horrible,” Ron whispered. “It really won’t.”
“What? Being tied to you three?”
“Yes. It ... please, it isn’t a death sentence.”
Draco thought over the last two weeks, being welcomed, being wanted, being loved. No, it wouldn’t be horrible. He just wasn’t ready for it yet.
He finally opened his eyes, and was surprised that it was Ron’s face closest to him and not Harry’s. Ron cupped his cheek and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. Magic flared between them for a moment, and Draco sighed, arms wrapping around Ron’s shoulders.
“Fine, but I want something out of this,” Draco said.
“More than an awesome broom?” Harry asked.
“More than a lifelong bond,” Hermione said with a snort.
“Yes, more than the broom, and I did not ask for that,” Draco said with a glare at Hermione.
“What do you want, beautiful?” Ron whispered, drawing Draco’s attention back to him with a touch to his cheek and a kiss to his lips.
“Grow your hair back out,” Draco demanded and tried to pull on it.
Ron laughed in surprise. “That’s all?”
“For now. I’ll have a lifetime to demand things of you.”
Ron nodded. “Deal. I’ll grow my hair out.”
---
Grimmauld place still permeated with dark magic in some places. Draco had been there only a few times when he was younger, but he never could forget the house-elf heads on the walls or that horrible portrait behind the curtain.
Within a moment of stepping into the front receiving parlour, the four Elemental Wizards waved their hands and cleaned everything within the room.
“Wow,” Ron said. “I never thought to do that, that we’d be able to clean it up that fast.”
“It’s mostly Sophia,” Henri said. “She is our wind, our cleanser, our center. I have no idea how you managed to survive without one.”
“They’re draining his magic,” Julian pointed out with a snort. “That’s how.”
“We must start the ritual tonight at midnight,” Diamber said. “Do you have a house-elf?”
“Kreacher,” Harry said, and the old elf popped into existence.
The old elf quivered immediately, head bowed low to the ground in front of Sophia. His mutterings were completely muffled, but somewhere along the words was Princess.
“Princess?” Hermione said.
“In another life,” Sophia said and winked at them. “Dearest Kreacher--”
Ron covered his sudden cough with his hand and Draco did not bother to hide his smile.
“--We are staying here for a few nights. Please make sure there is a room presentable for the four of us together, and it is imperative that no one comes into this house who is not already here for the next week. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your highness. Kreacher will clean everything. Kreacher will obey everything.”
“What time will afternoon tea be served?”
“At whatever time your highness wishes.”
Sophia nodded in approval. “Four will be just fine.”
“Yes, your excellency. Kreacher will begin preparations for your stay now, if I have your permissions.”
“You may go.”
Kreacher popped out of the room.
“You four should rest, try to sleep if you can,” Diamber said. “And eat. We will make sure everything is set up for you, but we cannot be present during the ritual. You all do understand that this has never been done before, and you all might die, correct?”
Draco glanced at the other three and was not reassured by their grave looks.
“Yes, we understand that,” Hermione said.
Draco snorted.
With a grim huff, Harry turned around and led the way through Grimmauld place and to an upper bedroom. It was obviously Harry’s room, with Chudley Cannons posters on the wall and clothes and shoes all over the place.
He fell face first to the bed and moaned. “God, this is horrible.”
“I really wish we could take our minds off of it for a bit,” Ron said. “I’m so fucking horny.”
“You always are,” Hermione mumbled and cleaned off Harry’s desk before sitting down on the chair.
Draco joined Harry on the bed. “You better not kill me this time, Potter.”
Harry snorted and then curled up with him, his hand sliding under Draco’s T-shirt. He traced the scars beneath his fingertips.
Draco did not say anything and only tried to control his breathing. The last week had been so hard. He hadn’t been able to do anything more than sleep and eat. Hermione tried to get him to study, but what was the point if they were all going to die?
McGonagall had allowed him to write a letter to his mother, but he did not explain the situation. He focused only on the story the Headmistress had crafted. He assured his mother that he was safe, but it wasn’t really fair that he might not get to see her again. He knew that Ron and Hermione battled the same thing with their families.
It wasn’t really fair that he no longer had a choice. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t going to get to fall in love before being forced into a bond with the other three. He tried not to think of Salazar Slytherin, who removed himself from the bond. Why had he done that? Just because they disagreed about what students to allow into Hogwarts? Draco doubted that. There had to be more to it. He wondered if Diamber and her bondmates knew.
Would he do the same thing? In a few years, would the novelty of being wanted and loved wear off and he’d try to find a way to distance himself from them?
Or would the three of them realize they didn’t need him after all? Would they cut him out of the bond? Would he do what Gryffindor did and kill them all out of grief?
Draco tightened his hold on Harry. They both moved when Ron joined them on the bed, and a few moments later, Hermione found her way on top of them, her fingers running through Harry’s messy hair, and her lips touching the firm muscle of Ron’s shoulder.
Part 11: Bondage
Part 9: A Better Week
Part 8: Research is Foreplay
Part 7: Sexy Strategy
Part 6: Broomsticks and Snakes
Part 5: Forgiveness Under the Stars
Part 4: A Few of My Favorite Things
Part 3: Sexy Secrets
Part 2: School Days
Part 1: Home Sweet Home
.
Pairing: Harry/Draco/Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters are definitely not mine, nor is the Harry Potter Universe. I am only borrowing them for my own perverted amusement. No money is made.
Summary: Draco needs an O on his Potions N.E.W.T. to even think about a Potions Mastery, which means he has to go back to Hogwarts for the "eighth year." He has plans to keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and just survive. Enter the Golden Trio who decide that's a bad idea and drag Draco right into the middle of their secret.
A/N: Elemental fic. Lots of magic. Some misuse of magic because I'm pretty sure JK Rowling did not intend for magic to make sex kinky. There are some master/sub themes and some light bondage.
This belongs in the category of EWE (Epilogue? What Epilogue?). It is Book 7 compliant. Mostly. It's been a long time since I read book 7.
This is cross-posted on my Ao3 "ddelusionall" account: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11926701/chapters/26956032
Part 10: A Grave Man
Draco woke up in the Infirmary. The quiet gave it away. Even in the dorms at the top of a tower or in the bowels of the dungeon there was noise.
But here ... everything stood still. No dust mites floated through sunbeams. No air flowed through windows. Though as soon as he thought that, a small breeze blew against his skin.
A small pulse of light flared around him. A magic detector. Draco attempted to stop the breeze, but the light pulsed a bit brighter.
Madame Pomfrey shuffled over with a small smile and a vial of potion. “Drink this, Mister Malfoy.”
Draco did, recognizing a strengthening potion. But it tasted a bit different and magic twisted through him with a quiet rumble. Like thunder.
Tilting her head, Madame Pomfrey watched his reaction. And she nodded once. “Just as I thought. Are you hungry, dear?”
He wanted to ask what Just as I thought meant, but his stomach grumbled in reply.
With a smile, she moved away. “Eat everything I give you, no complaints.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And he did, with relish. He felt like an empty cauldron even after the steak and the beans and vegetables that seemed to replenish almost as fast as he could eat.
As soon as the plate vanished, the Infirmary door opened and the Golden Trio walked in. They all looked like they hadn’t slept well, even Harry who always looked a bit disheveled. The T-shirt he wore was wrinkled more, his jeans hanging almost off his thin frame. His long hair was pulled back in mostly a ponytail with bits of hair flying everywhere. Hermione was wearing sweatpants, which was really odd for her, until Draco noted that they were a pair of Harry’s. Her hair was a wild mess about her head. Ron, as always looked pretty fit in his T-shirt and jeans, but his face was tried, mouth turned in a frown. All three of them were sporting bags under their eyes.
Harry was first there, laying almost in the bed with him. Hermione stayed standing, arms crossed, looking at the ground. Ron sat on the other side of his bed and took Draco’s hand. It was warm.
And breathtaking. Draco felt himself flush and he squeezed, turning into Harry a bit to hide the blush on his cheeks. He was not supposed to be in love with Ronald Weasley, but based on the ache in his chest and the way his emotions flared at the simple touch meant that he was on his way there. Damn that sodding redhead.
“We’re sorry,” Harry whispered. “We have no idea ... no idea what’s wrong with you. We were all tired like this too, but we got stronger. You’re getting weaker.”
“What day is it?” Draco asked.
“Just Saturday, about three, now. Harry found you passed out on the floor of your room yesterday before dinner. Alastor said you were supposed to meet him for flying. We brought you here this morning when you didn’t get better.”
Draco opened his mouth to tell them he was okay, and then a sharp pain flared through his chest. He gasped, eyes open wide. It hurt more than the Sectumsempra curse. It hurt more than Buckbeak biting his arm. It hurt almost as much as the Cruciatus.
He heard someone tell him to breathe. The pain pulsed for a long minute before fading to a heavy ache. Draco fell back to the bed, trying to stabilize his breathing. Trying to see through foggy vision.
Harry frowned at him and touched his face. “We’re so sorry. We didn’t mean ...” He bit his lower lip as Madame Pomfrey drew closer, her wand dancing about in a complicated twist. A blue series of spells twisted through Draco and then Harry.
“Why do you need to look at Harry?” Hermione asked.
“Quiet, child,” Madame Pomfrey said. “Diagnostics. Magical ones. Harry and Draco are connected in some way and I’m just testing a theory.”
A few minutes later, the door to the Infirmary opened again, and McGonagall almost stomped through it. She stopped when she saw them and sighed, hands on her hips.
“Oh Merlin,” McGonagall said. “You three. Now what?”
The three of them did not meet her eyes, looking at each other.
Madame Pomfrey came over to her and whispered in her ear. Her eyes went wide. “You’re certain?”
Madame Pomfrey nodded.
Her eyes softened a bit and she said, “Okay, explain.”
Draco snorted from the bed. “That’s easy. They’re idiots. Sodding Gryffindor imbeciles.”
“Mister Malfoy, your language please.” McGonagall waved a hand and an armchair appeared out of nowhere. “I have a feeling that I should sit down for this.”
Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron and then sighed, “We bonded. Over the summer,” she started.
“Well, congratulations. I am sure Molly is happy about that, or she would be, but she doesn’t know, does she?”
“No,” Hermione said. “And well, it’s because it is not just Ron and me. The three of us, we bonded. Together.”
“That is slightly more complicated, but that doesn’t explain why Draco Malfoy is in the infirmary with his magical core being slowly sucked away.”
Harry gasped. “What?”
McGonagall nodded. “Yes. His magical core is unstable. It is weakening. The only way that can happen is if someone powerful is taking it.”
Harry glanced at Draco, eyes full of fear. “Fucking bugger--”
“Language, Mister Potter.”
Hermione shut her eyes and took a very deep breath. “The bond ... it’s very ... strong. We ... we ...”
“We can’t dance around this, ‘Mione,” Ron said. “Not with Draco in danger.”
Hermione inhaled deeply again and nodded.
Ron held out his hand. A flicker of flame danced on his palm. “We’re Elemental Wizards. We bonded with the Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis Elemental bond.”
McGonagall stared at him in shock, her mouth open and her eyes wide.
It was quiet for a long moment before she said, “The Founders Bond? Are you three insane?”
Draco laughed. “That was my reaction.”
“How did you even manage that? At your age? How did you do this without having a Ventus? Oh really, Miss Granger, it is obvious which one of you is which now that I know. And how is it that Mister Malfoy is lying here with his magic depleting?”
Hermione launched into her explanation of finding the journals and going to Turkey and how Harry had been certain that Draco was meant to be their Ventus.
“This is so dangerous,” Professor McGonagall said. “How could you be so stupid to attempt this with only three people when you were aware of the risks?”
Hermione stared back at her defiantly. “Because we’re in love. We always have been. And dying while attempting was better than not being together forever.”
“So how did Draco get dragged into this?”
Draco tried to laugh through another shot of pain. “Dragged. Shagged, whatever.”
“We didn’t mean to really tell him,” Harry said. “We were going to befriend him and then ... well, it happened sooner than we expected, and now ... we ... he’s feeling the effects of the bond, but he isn’t in it, and now ... shite. Am I doing this to him?” He glanced at Madame Pomfrey.
She frowned and nodded. “The connection between your magical signatures was strong after the war.”
“How though?” Hermione said. “I don’t understand why he’s being affected so much.”
“That’s because you didn’t think before you decided to attempt a Founder’s Bond with only three people,” McGonagall said. “You are so lucky that all four of you are not dead.”
“Without them, I’d rather be,” Hermione said. “We were willing to risk it.”
“And risk Draco?”
“We didn’t know--”
“And if you had asked someone with a bit more knowledge on magical theories and bondings, they would have been able to tell you!” she almost shouted.
Outside of the final battle, it was the first time Draco had heard Professor McGonagall raise her voice in such a shrill shout.
“Wait,” Draco said. “Professor, do you know how I became part of their bond?”
“You aren’t part of it,” she said and shook her head. “If you were, you would not be lying there with your magic being siphoned away. But I do know how Mister Potter is draining away your magic. You owe him a life debt.”
“What?” Harry said. “He doesn’t!”
“You saved his life in the Room of Requirement.”
“And then I spoke at his trial--”
“That was not enough,” she continued. “That wasn’t magical. That wasn’t a matter of life or death. You may have considered it payback and considered the two of you even, but the magicks obviously did not. Mister Malfoy was not going to die if he went to Azkaban. But now, the life debt is calling in.”
“By taking his magic?”
“Yes. Without you in this bond, Mister Malfoy, all three of them would have died in the middle of the ritual. The life debt connected your magics, and now the life debt is keeping Mister Potter alive.”
Silence fell.
Draco felt empty again. But not hungry. Just ... just empty.
“Other ... other people owe him life debts,” Ron said quietly. His grip on Draco’s hand was almost breaking bones.
“Yes,” she nodded. “And when you made the bond, it reached for the one who was most connected to Mister Potter. Using his wand, using curses against each other through school, being the same age as him, near magical powers, all of those reasons would have been why Mister Malfoy was first in line.”
“But how ...” Draco started. “I mean, they completed the bond in August. I was fine at the Manor.”
Professor McGonagall smiled at him. “Maybe, but if I remember correctly, Mister Malfoy, you were not going to come back to Hogwarts, and then you changed your mind.”
Draco opened his mouth and then nodded. “In August. I did ... I ... I felt like I was missing something important. I talked with Mother and she said it was direction in my life. Without ... I am not a Malfoy, not in the same way, and she ... I ... I wasn’t going to come back.”
“Mister Potter was pulling at you, even then. The bond needs to be close to its holders.”
It was quiet again and Draco bit his lip against more pain. “Shite, buggering fuck, this hurts.”
He breathed deeply, and Harry kissed his neck. That helped a little bit while the pain weaved through him.
“So what can we do?” Hermione whispered, her voice small.
“First, Mister Potter and Mister Malfoy should not be separated. Think of your magic as a string,” she said. “It’s being pulled, so when you’re away from each other, there’s more of your magic outside of yourself. And second ...” She took a deep breath. “I’ll need to contact Diamber Whetle.”
Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “She ... she ... she’s alive?”
“Yes, she is alive. She created the Elemental Bond,” McGonagall said. “She and her bondmates are happily living in Paris, I believe.”
“But ... that’s ... that’s impossible. She’s over two thousand years old.”
“The Elemental Bond calls upon the earth itself to keep the bondmates alive and together. You have unwittingly given yourself a form of immortality. If you do not die, then you will live almost forever.”
“Bugger,” Draco gasped. “How ...”
McGonagall shook her head. “The Elemental Bond has only been successfully completed three times. And now four. The Founders ...” She took a deep breath. “Gryffindor killed them all. Out of heartbreak, out of grief, after Slytherin left. He poisoned himself. You can be killed and you can kill yourself. But you will age slowly, and you do not get sick anymore.”
Hermione wavered on her feet and Ron shot up from the bed to catch her before her knees collapsed.
“Oh, god ... what ... what have we done?” she gasped.
Ron whispered something to her and Harry curled up closer to Draco, face buried in his neck.
McGonagall stood up and the chair disappeared. “The four of you will remain here, in a private room, until this is fixed. You will not attend classes. You will not leave this Infirmary. The closer the four of you are together, the less likely it is that Mister Malfoy’s magical signature will be drained as quickly. Try not to do any magic. Each time you do, you pull a bit more from Mister Malfoy. And the four of you, do not, under any circumstances have any sort of intercourse, oral or otherwise, until I contact Mrs. Whetle.”
“Professor?” Harry said just before she walked out the door.
She stopped and turned.
“You said this was only done four times. Diamber Whetle, the Founders, us ... when was the fourth?”
She smiled and glanced at Madame Pomfrey. “Never you mind that, Mister Potter.” She spun out of the room. Madame Pomfrey glanced at them with a smile on her face before going into her office.
“Do you think she--?” Ron started. His eyes went wide. “Blimey.”
“But with who?” Hermione whispered. “Pomfrey?”
“Sprout, maybe?” Harry said. “She is really good with plants.”
Ron made a face. “I now have a good way to keep my prick under control. Thanks for that visual, mate.”
Harry laughed.
Draco tried, but he just felt so tired.
Harry’s smile fell at Draco’s soft moan and he slipped into the bed with him, head on his chest and sighed. “I’m so sorry.”
Draco swallowed. “The broom was a great idea.”
The three of them laughed, and then silence fell and Draco stared up at the ceiling for a long time, contemplating ... this. Whatever this was. He was mostly immortal. Or he would be if Harry didn’t kill him first. Not immortal. He could still be killed. Someone could still see him on the street and exact revenge. Someone could poison him. Or he could do it himself. Like Gryffindor did. But he was not tied so closely to his bondmates, at least not yet. Would he? Would he learn to love all three of them?
If he was already recognizing feelings for Ron, then the answer was yes. A Malfoy, in love with a Weasley? There were so many of his ancestors turning in their graves.
---
When Draco woke up, Harry was still in bed with him. On top of him, head on his chest, legs twisted in the blanket. Hermione and Ron were curled up on the next bed. He wasn’t sure if they were asleep or not.
It was still, quiet, relaxing. Or it would be relaxing if he hadn’t remembered that the Chosen One was sucking out his magical core.
Draco snorted and Harry lifted his head. “What?”
“Nothing,” Draco said and did not stop their lips from touching.
“Madame Pomfrey said you were going to be hungry when you woke up.”
“I seem to always be hungry these days.”
Harry smiled and pushed himself up and off the bed. He headed for Pomfrey’s office.
“All right, beautiful?” Ron asked.
Draco felt the flush on his cheeks and he nodded. “Good as can be expected.”
Ron smiled.
“It’s been really hard the last few hours to stop using magic,” Hermione said. “Really hard. We’ve been taking our abilities for granted, and just a couple hours ago, we made tea without even realizing it, and then Madame Pomfrey was ... she has threatened us with magical inhibitors if we can’t control ourselves. We’re so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“Not all your fault, love,” Ron said and hooked his hand around her neck and kissed her cheek.
Hermione pursed her lips and kept her eyes on Draco. Draco stared a bit longer and looked away. He wasn’t quite ready to grant forgiveness. They’d dragged him into an immortality that he did not want.
“I wonder if Voldemort knew about this bond,” Ron said.
Draco flinched. “What?”
Ron shrugged. “A form of immortality. Why didn’t he try it?”
“He’d have to share power,” Harry said immediately. “There’s no way that Tom Riddle would have ever shared his throne.”
“That is very true,” Draco said. “My father told me once that he feared for his life because Death Eaters sometimes turned to him for guidance when they were unclear of the Dark Lord’s intentions.”
“I doubt Voldemort knew about it,” Hermione said.
“Heir of Slytherin though,” Harry said. “He had to have known something so important about Slytherin. The man built the Chamber of Secrets for crying out loud.”
“Wait? What?”
Harry took a deep breath. “You don’t know about the Chamber of Secrets?”
“I mean I know about it, of course, what Hogwarts student doesn’t? But who built it? The Dark Lord?”
Harry exchanged a look with the other three. In that moment of silence, Pomfrey bustled in with food for all four of them.
Harry waited until Draco had started eating, and then he said, “Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you about stuff.”
“Like what?” Draco asked, between bites.
“Well, everything.”
He started with before he knew he was a wizard, living with the Dursleys, and then Hagrid, and then first year with the complications of Snape and Quirrell, and then second year, the Chamber of Secrets, and sneaking into the Slytherin dorms.
Draco laughed. “Merlin’s balls, Potter! I was wondering what was wrong with those two. I just thought they were being stupid or ate one of those Weasley candies!”
He continued into third year, and Hermione explained why she’d punched him, about Harry hearing his mother’s screams when the Dementors came near. Draco huffed, and apologized with a squeeze to his hand. Harry smiled at him, like he didn’t need to actually say the words. He probably didn’t. He did anyway.
It took all three of them to give details about fourth year and the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But only at the first task, Draco felt exhausted again.
“Sleep,” Harry said. “We’re here for the foreseeable future.” Harry pattered around him, tucking him in, kissing his cheek.
Draco was too tired to be angry about it, and he smiled when warm lips pressed against his for a moment. And this time, instead of Harry curling up in the bed with him, it was Ron.
“I’m going to get a house-elf to bring us our books so we can keep up with our classes,” Hermione said.
Draco felt Ron snort, and he buried his face against Ron’s neck, secure in the strong arms wrapped around him, and he slept to the sounds of the three of them bickering about studies.
“Well, we still need our N.E.W.T.s,” was the last thing Draco heard Hermione say.
---
Draco woke up well into the night. He had been moved, and sitting up, he noted they were in a different room. It was round, with two beds on either side of a wide window seat. The darkness beyond the windows was dotted with bright stars. In the middle of the room sat a long desk covered in their school books. Two armchairs were set up around a small coffee table. There were shelves and armoires built into the walls. A single door led to a bathroom. As with everything in the Infirmary, the blankets, hangings, beddings and furniture were all white. But Draco did not see another door as an exit.
A single lamp was lit on the desk, revealing Ron hunched over a chessboard. The pieces were spread out like in the middle of a game, and Ron was rolling a bishop around his fingers, across his knuckles and over the back of his hand in an intricate display.
Both Hermione and Harry were asleep in the other bed.
Draco sat up and stretched, and Ron smiled over at him. “All right, Ferret?”
Draco smiled. “I think so. What time is it?”
“Two in the morning. You’ve been sleeping all day. Madame Pomfrey went to bed hours ago, but she said that you could call on the house-elves for food at any time.”
“I am a little hungry,” Draco said, like it was something abnormal.
And he was stiff. He twisted, arms bent and about chest level, and then leaned over the edge of the bed. He held the stretch a bit longer and then got out of the bed. He really felt stiff, trying to stand, so he stayed bent over and touched his toes, controlling his breathing.
A water-infused massage from Hermione sounded good just about then.
Draco moved to a more open area of the room and stood still for a moment, eyes shut, calming himself down, breathing deep. The pain in his chest had lessened considerably. When he felt relatively steady, he started stretching again, going through a few yoga poses. He heard Ron speaking with a house-elf, and then the smell of chicken and potatoes hit his nose, and he gave up on the stretching and went to the desk.
Ron chuckled at him when he sat eagerly and started eating almost too fast.
He ignored the touch of fingers on his neck because he had to. If he didn’t, he and Ron would completely break Professor McGonagall’s order not to have sex.
When he was finally full (the plate kept refilling again), he leaned back and pushed the plate away. It disappeared.
“Are you tired again?” Ron asked, careful to whisper.
Draco shook his head. “No. I’ve slept for almost two days.”
“What about the pain?”
Draco shut his eyes. “There’s still a dull ache.” He touched his chest. “But it hasn’t flared yet, so that’s good.”
“Yeah. I’m sure Hermione would make you study since you’re awake, but we can play chess for a little while.”
Draco smiled at him and said, “Sounds like a good idea to me.”
The board was Ron’s, so the black pieces were incredibly stubborn about following Draco’s directions. It got to the point that he had to pick them up and plop them where he wanted. When he almost beat Ron that first game, the pieces grudgingly admitted that he played well and started to listen to him through the second and third game.
“I love playing against you,” Ron said in the middle of their fourth. “You actually think like a strategist, and you are actually competition.”
“Such flattery, Weasel.” Draco had his fingers on a stubborn bishop when Ron reached over and brushed a fingertip over his lips.
Draco snapped his head up, even as he blushed.
“Except in bed,” Ron said and a slow smirk. “But you don’t mind letting me win in bed, do you, beautiful?”
Draco flushed a bit darker and jerked his face away from Ron’s fingers. Lust flashed through him, a hard twist of emotions, and he bit his lip. He did not moan out loud. He was too well-bred for that, thank you very much. But his pyjama bottoms were suddenly too tight. With a huff, he went back to the game and swiped Ron’s rook with the stubborn bishop.
“Bugger,” Ron muttered. “I was hoping I could distract you from that move.”
Draco smirked at him. “Nice try, Weasel. Go.”
Draco still lost that game. But it was close. One day soon, he’d beat Ron. Maybe not soon. Maybe in a hundred years.
It was so disconcerting to think about that.
Afterwards, he and Ron climbed back into bed to rest. Ron wasn’t sure if he’d sleep again, but curled up with his warmth, Draco had no problems at all relaxing for a little while.
---
Draco was weak and groggy again later on in the morning. But he got up and sat at the table to eat, and then Harry helped him with a shower.
“You should keep up on your schoolwork, Draco,” Hermione said when he sat back down at the chessboard.
Draco snorted. “Why? If you lot are draining away my magic and turning me into a Squib, then school doesn’t really matter.”
Hermione frowned. “We’re trying to figure that out.”
“And what if you can’t add me to your bond, then what? I’m your useless little servant until my magical core runs dry and then I die, and you all die. So well done.”
“It isn’t ... our ... we didn’t know,” Hermione started.
“We don’t want you to die,” Harry said, lips against his neck. “We don’t. We love you.”
Draco pushed him away and stared at him with narrowed eyes. He spared a glance at the other two. “You don’t love me, Potter. The bond does.”
“Maybe at first, but--”
“Please shut up,” Draco said. “Just ... don’t talk about the bond, okay?”
Harry frowned and then nodded. “We’re just as scared as you are, Dray.”
“Shut up.”
“Emotions a little wild?” Professor McGonagall said from the door.
They all jumped in surprise.
She smiled. “Understandable. Please get presentable. Diamber Whetle and her three bondmates just arrived at the castle. I made an announcement at breakfast that we received a death threat for the four of you and that you’ve been removed from the school for your protection and for the protection of the students. I told all the teachers that the Aurors will be working on tracing spells for the threat, and you’ll be allowed to return when the threat is gone. You will remain here until we can figure out how to keep Mister Malfoy, and in turn, you three, from dying.”
Draco glanced down at the chessboard and sighed. He really did not want to die. Maybe a few months ago ... after his father’s death, but now ...
He pushed away from the table and headed to the wardrobe. His head went light and the world tilted, and he fell into Ron.
“I’ve got you, mate,” Ron said against the top of his head. “We’ve all got you.”
Draco swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to push Ron away. He moved, but not far, just far enough that Draco was able to get his clothes and start dressing. His hands fumbled on the tie at his neck and Hermione huffed, moving over to help his fingers that would not work.
“Go sit down, please,” she said. “I cannot give you a magical boost right now.”
Draco sighed and let Hermione hug him, arms around his waist, and then Ron hugged them both. He did not say it out loud, but even without magic, their presence was soothing and uplifting.
Hermione lifted her head, and Draco frowned at her tears. “I am sorry. Please. I am sorry.”
Draco shut his eyes and nodded. “I know. I’m going to be bloody angry for a while though.”
“You have every right.”
“Not too long,” Harry said, joining their circle by trying to squeeze between Hermione and Draco.
“Just long enough for makeup sex,” Ron said.
The others chuckled and then hugged tightly.
“Ah, young love,” a voice said near the door, causing all four to jump in surprise again.
“Delusional love,” one of the others muttered.
“Do be quiet, Henri.”
Four people walked into the room, followed by Professor Mcgonagall and Madame Pomfrey. Two women and two men. All four looked rather old, and if this really was Diamber Whetle, they were over two thousand years old.
Draco swallowed roughly.
They were dressed in fashionable robes, red and deep purple for the two women and a green and vibrant blue for the two men. The first one that had spoken wore the red robe. Her graying hair was pulled up into a bun, much like Professor McGonagall’s. The other woman’s hair was black and left long down her back. Both men had brown hair, and one was much taller than the other.
“Diamber,” Professor McGonagall said. “These are the four miscreants I told you about.”
The woman in red smiled and said, “Hello, fellow Elemental Wizards. I heard you may have cocked things up a bit.”
“We ...” Hermione took a deep breath. “I didn’t know ...”
She waved her hand at Hermione. “Neither did I, child. Neither did I. Introductions, then. I am Diamber Whetle, Fire Witch.” She held up a hand and fire burned at her fingertips. “Henri is our Aqua, Sophia our Ventus, and Julian our Terra.”
“I can’t ...” Hermione looked pale, mouth opening and closing.
Draco led and stepped forward. “I’m Draco Malfoy.”
“A wretched family,” Julian muttered.
Diamber shushed him harshly.
“It’s all right,” Draco said. “I’m used to that sentiment. I’m trying to be better. This is the Golden Trio.”
“Draco,” Harry hissed.
Draco smiled. “Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.”
“Yes,” Henri said. “We have heard much about the strong wizard Harry and the brightest witch of this time, Miss Granger.” He glanced at Professor McGonagall who actually rolled her eyes. “You’ve given Minerva quite a bit of an ulcer the last few years.”
Draco found himself under four intense scrutiny. Green eyes, blue eyes, wavering dark, grey eyes, and almost black, so brown. Their eye color matched their powers. Draco glanced at Harry who did have green eyes, but Hermione’s were brown and Ron’s were blue. Maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe it did. Ron’s eyes had gone dark and fiery when they were alone the other day.
“You are not connected,” Diamber noted.
Draco nodded. “Yep. That’s me. I’m the one these buggers have dragged into this bond.”
Sophia tilted her head at him. “Ventus. Wind runs through you. It is not just because of that.”
“What?”
She smiled. “Wind. You are comfortable on a broom?”
Draco nodded. “It’s my favorite thing, besides potions.”
“And potions work because of the reaction the ingredients have with the air,” Sophia continued. “It is always an ingredient that potion masters forget about. Magic is of the earth, children. I know you do not learn a lot of theory while you’re learning to control yourselves. Have you ever wondered where magic comes from? The earth has energy, and that energy is released as magic. Earth is made of land, wind, air, fire. Essentially, all wizards are elemental wizards.”
“This bond,” Henri continued, a slight French accent in his words, “strengthens the wizards’ connection to the earth. But there is a balance in all things. One wizard cannot strengthen that wizard without three others. There would be too much power. And so the bond ties four together.”
“It ties your magical signatures together,” Diamber explained. “Much of which you already figured out. But without Young Draco actually being part of the bond, when you lot pull at his magical signature, he cannot pull at yours in return to remain whole.”
“Can we fix this?” Ron asked.
“We can try,” she said. “Or well, you four can try.”
“How?” Hermione asked.
“Do the ritual again,” Henri said.
“Not the entire thing,” Sophia added.
“There is a specific moment, a specific time when your magical signatures are connected,” Diamber said. “You need to replicate that moment in the bond. I do not believe you will need to do the entire thing.”
“When is that moment?” Harry asked.
“Drinking the potion mixed with all your essences, your blood, your pleasure, your love.”
“Isn’t there a simple bonding spell that can tie them together?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“No,” Diamber said. “This is anything but simple. So far, what we have discussed is only theory. This has never been done before.”
“I would be worried about the wild magicks escaping without the circle,” Sophia said.
“But will it work?” Julian asked. “The bond is already in place. This could destroy them.”
“We were prepared for that already,” Hermione said, tilting her head up in defiance. “We were ready for it to fail. Dying is better than not being together.”
“Says you!” Draco shouted. “I am not ready to die!”
“You will,” Madame Pomfrey said. “They will slowly drain your magic away and a wizard without his magic is dead, and then the three of them will follow.”
“The entire ritual is going to need to be done again,” Julian said. “There is no way out of it. The actual exact moment of their magicks being tied together is not know. It is the entire ritual that does it. You cannot attempt to thwart it. The safest way is to do it all again.”
Diamber lowered her head and nodded. “Where did you do the first ritual?”
“Grimmauld place,” Harry answered.
“We need to have everything be the exact same as the first time. The same goblets. The same trimonion berry bush. The same spot as the first magic circle. Complicating those things will make the revision of the bond less likely to work.”
“It will be a week before you can do it. I need to brew the potion for you to use,” Sophia said.
“This is insane,” Draco muttered. “You are all crazy.”
“It needs to be done,” Hermione said.
Draco glared at her. “I’m so blaming you for this, Granger.”
“Draco, come on,” Harry said. “It isn’t--”
“It is!” Draco shouted. “All three of you ... just ... fucking hell.”
“Can we have a moment?” Ron asked their audience.
McGonagall and Diamber exchanged a look and nodded.
“It is always good to talk out your disagreements,” Sophia said. “Remember, if this works, you are going to be disagreeing with each other for a very long time.” She smiled.
Draco shut his eyes and listened as they all left.
“I don’t want to die,” Draco said in the heavy silence.
“Neither do we,” Ron said.
Warm fingers brushed over his cheek. “It’s death either way,” Draco whispered. “I have no choice.”
Someone sort of sobbed.
“It won’t be horrible,” Ron whispered. “It really won’t.”
“What? Being tied to you three?”
“Yes. It ... please, it isn’t a death sentence.”
Draco thought over the last two weeks, being welcomed, being wanted, being loved. No, it wouldn’t be horrible. He just wasn’t ready for it yet.
He finally opened his eyes, and was surprised that it was Ron’s face closest to him and not Harry’s. Ron cupped his cheek and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. Magic flared between them for a moment, and Draco sighed, arms wrapping around Ron’s shoulders.
“Fine, but I want something out of this,” Draco said.
“More than an awesome broom?” Harry asked.
“More than a lifelong bond,” Hermione said with a snort.
“Yes, more than the broom, and I did not ask for that,” Draco said with a glare at Hermione.
“What do you want, beautiful?” Ron whispered, drawing Draco’s attention back to him with a touch to his cheek and a kiss to his lips.
“Grow your hair back out,” Draco demanded and tried to pull on it.
Ron laughed in surprise. “That’s all?”
“For now. I’ll have a lifetime to demand things of you.”
Ron nodded. “Deal. I’ll grow my hair out.”
---
Grimmauld place still permeated with dark magic in some places. Draco had been there only a few times when he was younger, but he never could forget the house-elf heads on the walls or that horrible portrait behind the curtain.
Within a moment of stepping into the front receiving parlour, the four Elemental Wizards waved their hands and cleaned everything within the room.
“Wow,” Ron said. “I never thought to do that, that we’d be able to clean it up that fast.”
“It’s mostly Sophia,” Henri said. “She is our wind, our cleanser, our center. I have no idea how you managed to survive without one.”
“They’re draining his magic,” Julian pointed out with a snort. “That’s how.”
“We must start the ritual tonight at midnight,” Diamber said. “Do you have a house-elf?”
“Kreacher,” Harry said, and the old elf popped into existence.
The old elf quivered immediately, head bowed low to the ground in front of Sophia. His mutterings were completely muffled, but somewhere along the words was Princess.
“Princess?” Hermione said.
“In another life,” Sophia said and winked at them. “Dearest Kreacher--”
Ron covered his sudden cough with his hand and Draco did not bother to hide his smile.
“--We are staying here for a few nights. Please make sure there is a room presentable for the four of us together, and it is imperative that no one comes into this house who is not already here for the next week. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your highness. Kreacher will clean everything. Kreacher will obey everything.”
“What time will afternoon tea be served?”
“At whatever time your highness wishes.”
Sophia nodded in approval. “Four will be just fine.”
“Yes, your excellency. Kreacher will begin preparations for your stay now, if I have your permissions.”
“You may go.”
Kreacher popped out of the room.
“You four should rest, try to sleep if you can,” Diamber said. “And eat. We will make sure everything is set up for you, but we cannot be present during the ritual. You all do understand that this has never been done before, and you all might die, correct?”
Draco glanced at the other three and was not reassured by their grave looks.
“Yes, we understand that,” Hermione said.
Draco snorted.
With a grim huff, Harry turned around and led the way through Grimmauld place and to an upper bedroom. It was obviously Harry’s room, with Chudley Cannons posters on the wall and clothes and shoes all over the place.
He fell face first to the bed and moaned. “God, this is horrible.”
“I really wish we could take our minds off of it for a bit,” Ron said. “I’m so fucking horny.”
“You always are,” Hermione mumbled and cleaned off Harry’s desk before sitting down on the chair.
Draco joined Harry on the bed. “You better not kill me this time, Potter.”
Harry snorted and then curled up with him, his hand sliding under Draco’s T-shirt. He traced the scars beneath his fingertips.
Draco did not say anything and only tried to control his breathing. The last week had been so hard. He hadn’t been able to do anything more than sleep and eat. Hermione tried to get him to study, but what was the point if they were all going to die?
McGonagall had allowed him to write a letter to his mother, but he did not explain the situation. He focused only on the story the Headmistress had crafted. He assured his mother that he was safe, but it wasn’t really fair that he might not get to see her again. He knew that Ron and Hermione battled the same thing with their families.
It wasn’t really fair that he no longer had a choice. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t going to get to fall in love before being forced into a bond with the other three. He tried not to think of Salazar Slytherin, who removed himself from the bond. Why had he done that? Just because they disagreed about what students to allow into Hogwarts? Draco doubted that. There had to be more to it. He wondered if Diamber and her bondmates knew.
Would he do the same thing? In a few years, would the novelty of being wanted and loved wear off and he’d try to find a way to distance himself from them?
Or would the three of them realize they didn’t need him after all? Would they cut him out of the bond? Would he do what Gryffindor did and kill them all out of grief?
Draco tightened his hold on Harry. They both moved when Ron joined them on the bed, and a few moments later, Hermione found her way on top of them, her fingers running through Harry’s messy hair, and her lips touching the firm muscle of Ron’s shoulder.
Part 11: Bondage
Part 9: A Better Week
Part 8: Research is Foreplay
Part 7: Sexy Strategy
Part 6: Broomsticks and Snakes
Part 5: Forgiveness Under the Stars
Part 4: A Few of My Favorite Things
Part 3: Sexy Secrets
Part 2: School Days
Part 1: Home Sweet Home
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