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Because We Are Snakes	By : Setsuna24 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 44500 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 19
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any recognizable characters or materials I make no money from this story and its just written for fun

Chapter List
- 9
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Because We Are Snakes – The Cursed Day

It was near two in the morning on Halloween and Harry Potter was dead.

Madam Pomfrey had not been pranked since before the twins second year.

Harry Potter was dead…

The twins were formulating plans of action and it all led back to Madam Pomprey and why she had not been pranked for so long.

Madam Pomfrey had been a Ravenclaw in her time. She had been pranked along with all the other teachers as soon as the twin menaces found their footing at Hogwarts not even a week after the start of their first year and she did not much care for it. Being the sensible woman that she was and having much more important things to mind other than the possibility of a potentially disastrous prank, she solved to work out a deal with the red devils. It was simple, really, given their tendencies to dangerous experiments and their propensity to get hurt while at it which often led to detentions. The solution was very advantageous in several ways, for one she did not have to constantly treat the after effects of their idiocy and second she did not get pranked… there were other benefits she kept a very tight lipped secret. It had been such a genius idea and she never regretted it, truly to this dy she congratulated herself every morning for this spot of absolute brilliance.

One day she had approached them and placed her offer on the table; in exchange for prank immunity she would teach them the finer points of the healing arts. “It will serve you to be able to heal yourselves -and that idiot boy Lee who follow you everywhere- and help you know which appropriate potions to use when one of your experiments back fires and in turn that will help you avoid pesky detentions for reckless and dangerous behavior.” She had said and the twins agreed to the proposition, they clandestinely had lessons in the middle of the night three times a week for four hours. She secretly thought McGonnagal, Snape, and Flitwick had worked out similar deals but had yet to confirm such suspicions. There was just no way that they could be such inventive geniuses at mixing Charms, Transmutation, and Potions for their products otherwise. Regardless of their obvious high intelligence. Extra tutoring had to be involved somewhere, she was certain.

So Harry Potter was dead.

But it was for less than thirty seconds.

Mainly, because the twins were at this point in their academic career the equivalent of a walking apothecary and an apprentice level Mediwizards ready to take their licensing tests, which they would do upon leaving school along with their Mid-Level Potions Apprenticeship test -It had something to do with the licenses they needed for their future business endeavor-, they had never told a soul about it.

The Potter luck was very convenient, as was the fact that it was the twins with Harry, and not someone who would panic and do nothing of worth to help.

George pulled Harry out of the bloody water by the arms while Fred helped by lifting his legs and they deposited the limp boy on the floor after a quick warming charm was thrown at it and at Harry. They worked in perfect synchrony earned of years of healing Lee form their experiment’s explosions and of healing each other of the same. With a variation of the Shock Spell, in intervals of two seconds, and mouth to mouth they re-started the boy’s heart. Then they used the Revive Potion – which Fred Spelled directly into Harry’s stomach- to wake him from unconsciousness and got him to be aware enough for George to run Diagnostic Scans while indicating to Fred to feed him the necessary potions. Fred poured vial after vial onto Harry’s mouth and coaxed him to swallow.
There was Blood Replenishers for obvious reasons, Liquid Essence of Dittany and Murtlap to treat internal wounds, Girdin Potion to augment Harry’s endurance of the painful internal healing process, Grand Pepperup Potion to keep him awake through the whole ordeal since the common Pepperup seemed to have no effect – they suspected immunity to the weaker potion due to continued over dosage -, Invigoration Draught to give an extra boost of energy to speed up the healing and the antiseptic Wound-cleaning Potion due to the location of the laceration being Harry’s large intestine. Finally, a combination of paste of Murltlap Essence and Essence of Dittany was applied to heal the tears to Harry’s sphincter caused by the egg’s exit along with a Soothing Paste, and Star Grass Salve.

They were walking apothecaries indeed.

When he was aware enough to be explained what had happened Harry realized he would never figure out where exactly they kept all those potions hidden, but he strongly suspected shrinking charms and enlarged pockets, pouches with extension charms, or some other sort of WizardSpace container for the shrunk vials.

It was now close to six in the morning and Harry had to be awake by eight, he figured two hours of sleep were better than no sleep. The twins helped him to the tower and laying him on the bed they provided him with Calming draught, Sleeping Draught, Muscle Soother for his strained abdominal muscles to help him sleep somewhat comfortable and Pain Relief Potions to carry him through the ordeal his day was likely to be.

The egg they had placed under the warm furs in the nest with a plethora of warming charms because they simply had no idea what to do about it and Harry was in no condition to figure it out at the moment.

It later turned out that Harry managed no more than fifty minutes of sleep from the moment he hit the bed and the Sleeping Draught took effect. Of all days, today, was the day Ron decided to wake up early because he was simply put “too hungry to stay in bed.”

The day only got progressively worse from then on and even Malfoy’s cautious and sometimes blatant dissecting of his every word and movement were getting on Harry’s last nerve. For all his supposed Slytherin cunning, the bloke needed to learn to be more subtle. He supposed the blond really wanted to know what was up with him lately and was re-evaluating all he thought he knew about Harry Potter. It was still super annoying though, Harry cared not one bit for it, and was happy to show his displeasure by openly and very hostilely glaring at Malfoy… it wasn’t like he hadn’t done that before so no one found it suspicious, besides Malfoy was a right prissy prat on a power trip and many people glared at him lately.

Harry ditched Ron during a free period by telling him he was going to the library, he ditched Hermione by telling her he needed some time to breathe and calm down from his anger at his newly acquired detention with Umbridge which she had given him for thinking too loudly. He still had no idea how that one could possibly be justified. Then again… Malfoy gave detentions for being an-insufferable-know-it-all-mudblood and Snape for breathing too loudly so the standards for detentions were very ambiguous and a complete joke.

He made his way to the room and to the pile of warm fur where the egg laid.

The dark haired boy looked at it without touching it, he remembered the glimpse of what laid inside it which he had seen before he lost consciousness, and he remembered the moment most likely responsible for the egg coming to be and the person responsible for its existence. Harry remembered all the pain it had caused him and he felt hatred for the innocuous oval shaped mass of scales lying so innocently in the pile of furs. He hated it and its implications and most of all how it was made without his consent. He took a heavy book from his bag and lifted it over his head with all intentions to break the egg and be done with it, so he would never have to care for the Dark Lord’s spawn.

Harry brought the book down with great speed over the egg, mind set in breaking and killing it, but found he couldn’t. Halfway through the journey down he stopped his arms and threw the book aside. It was Voldemort’s egg, it was the bastard’s progeny, but he could not bring himself to kill it. His heart tugged painfully at the idea and it filled him with sadness and trepidation even as his head reared in anger at his inability to end the life within the egg.

He was utterly confused at his conflicting feeling because though he hated the situation he was in and what the Dark Lord had done to him over the years, in the end, this egg was his. It had grown inside him. He had fed it nutrients from his own body and fed it trickles of his own magic for months even if he had no idea it was happening at the time.

It was his.

Truly his.

It could be something or someone that belonged to him exclusively and held the possibility of perhaps gaining the family he never had.

The egg was his, Voldemort needn’t know about it, he would never tell. He would keep it and care for it because everything in him demanded he do so. Every instinct in his body quickly overriding his reluctance when faced with the possibilities the egg brought, along with his need to keep it safe.

Strangely, at least to him, his feelings for the egg changed rather quickly from murderous hatred and reluctance to cherishing protectiveness. His trembling hands reached to touch it and it was warm and pulsing like a heartbeat under his hands. The scales were smooth and brilliant with an interesting texture at the edges. He lay on the fur nest and cradled the egg awkwardly to his body wrapping himself around it, his body acting on pure instinct and feeding it small trickles of his own magic as it flowed freely surrounding them in a soothing kind of comfort and the song in his blood filled the room with its beautiful notes. The egg swelled and grew to the size of a medium sized melon right before his eyes, it must have been waiting for it, either the magic from its mother or the song he didn’t know, but Harry was thankful it had not reached that size while inside him. It would have made the process of getting it out even more horrifying.

He wondered how big it would get and how long it would take for it to hatch.

It didn’t matter.

The egg was his; he was going to keep it. It didn’t matter to him now who provided the other half of genetic and magical material which created the egg, Voldemort would never see or lay his hand’s on Harry’s child.

Somehow he knew that the egg needed to be near him to absorb some of his magic and continue to mature but he could not go about carrying an egg all over the school, someone would certainly notice. He thought about a solution and in the end Harry took a page from the twins book and made himself a small wolf fur pouch with a string to hang from his neck. He casted on it Impervious charms, Expansion charms, Warming charms, FeatherLight and any protective charms he could think of to keep the egg inside it safe. He loved WizardSpace, he decided, the fact that you could fit something the size of a melon in a small pouch the zise of a small child’s fist and have it weigh so little it could hang from your neck was simply brilliant. A Notice-Me-Not Charm on it took care of the rest.

Harry left the room with his mind made and determined to give his egg what he had not been given growing up as best as he could seeing as he had no idea what it was like to love someone or care for a life totally dependent on him -the fickle wizarding masses did not count in this category, they could be dependent on him all they wanted but he could not give a fuck. He would provide and care for his hatchling without the disgusting displays of Aunt Petunia over Dudley or the overbearingness of Mrs. Weasley.

Yes, he could do this, he could take care of his egg and keep it safe.

Harry resolve to come to the nest from time to time to lay on it while he cradled this new life he was bringing into the world.

He left to continue with his day, pouch hanging from his neck and pulsing slightly in synchrony to the rhythm of his heart.

October thirty first continued in the same annoying way the day had always done, getting progressively worse by the minute as was the general rule.

The feast was the same as it always was and he made it to bed that night without killing someone, a feat of Herculean proportions to say the least.

He had hoped the egg was the scheduled and awaited yearly catastrophe of the hateful day but found out it actually was not.

That night Harry woke up from a vision screaming, sweaty, and quite disturbed by witnessing an attack on Mr. Weasley at the Ministry of Magic from behind the eyes of Voldemort’s snake’s eyes. It was completely disconcerting that it actually felt as if he was the snake at the moment of attack and he ended up losing his shit in Dumbledore’s office. Thankfully, the Headmaster found it fit for Harry to get some rest in the infirmary for the rest of that night.

Oh, how he hated Halloween.
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Because We Are Snakes