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A Brother to Basilisks	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 85173 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 15
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Chapter Twenty-Four—Truths Carefully Measured
            “Do you feel ready to talk about it?” Severus asked.
            He had sometimes been told—though not in recent memory—that his voice was most soothing when it was at its deepest. He tried to keep that in mind, his eyes gently on Harry and the basilisk that had curled up in his lap the moment he sat down. The basilisk’s tail was long enough to dangle down the boy’s knee and to the floor. Of course, that was partially because the boy himself was not tall.
            Will he be willing to talk about that as well, what made him that way? Severus wondered, but as yet, he didn’t know. He would have to wait and see.
            Harry looked up. He had one hand on a particular thick, diamond-shaped scale behind the basilisk’s head, and was pressing down as if he wanted to keep the snake from striking at something. Severus judged the distance between their chairs and moved a little further back.
            “I can,” said Harry. His voice was soft, but strong. “Dash was just trying to persuade me to talk about what Sirius and Lupin—did to me as a form of abuse, too. But I don’t want to do that. I’m only going to talk about the Dursleys.”
            Severus suffered a fierce stab of disappointment, one which nearly made him want to compare it to a basilisk bite to test which one hurt more. But he had never expected Harry to turn on Black this soon. He nodded and said, “Then tell me what you would consider saying.”
            Harry gnawed his lip for a second. The basilisk watched his face and didn’t move. Then Harry glanced up at Severus and muttered, “The cupboard and the—the way they didn’t feed me a lot.”
            “The starvation?” Severus used the word deliberately. Merlin knew it would come up once they started talking about this, and the last thing they needed was the child flinching like a startled hare before someone else’s first mention of it.
            Harry squeezed his eyes for a second. “I still ate.”
            The basilisk looped one coil around his arm. “I did,” Harry insisted, opening his eyes and looking down at the snake. “Just not as often as Dudley did!”
            “Dudley being your cousin,” Severus murmured, as if anxious to help Harry along. In reality, he was, but he did wonder how prepared Harry would be to face a ravenously curious wizarding world if he still reacted by throwing delays in the path of an ally.
            “Yes,” Harry said, and turned towards Severus with the light flashing off his glasses. “I mean, that’s natural in a way, right, sir? That Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would care more about what Dudley ate than me? Because he’s their son and I’m just their—nephew.” He trailed off near the end, as if hearing what he was saying.
            Or because he saw the expression on my face, Severus’s thoughts supplied to him. He said aloud, only, “Do not presume to defend them to me, Mr. Potter.”
            “I’m not really trying to defend them.” Harry traced one hand over the part of his lap that the basilisk didn’t occupy. The snake promptly moved so that he was under Harry’s hand. Severus understood and approved, although he might not have been able to put the reason why into words. “I just—they said so many things about that during my childhood that I understand what they mean.”
            Severus waited, and waited. It took longer than it should have for Harry’s gaze to rise and find his.
            But when it did, Severus said, with a fixed smile that he thought Harry would probably take note of, “You may understand what they said. But let me ask you a question. Would you understand it if it was Mr. Weasley’s parents starving him? Or Miss Granger’s parents starving her?”
            “They would never!” Harry snapped at once.
            So quick to defend others, and never himself, Severus thought. It would have annoyed him as recently as a month ago. Now, he only felt profoundly tired. “Answer the question, Mr. Potter.” Among other things, if Harry really was ready to take an abusive adult’s side, then he would be useless in trying to help the other children with bad homes.
            Harry curled into himself and closed his eyes. The basilisk laid his head on Harry’s shoulder and hissed into his ear, although of course they didn’t need to speak aloud with the mental bond connecting them. Severus watched them both and wondered what either of them was thinking.
*
            Cease your thoughts immediately, or I will bite you.
            Because that’s going to help, Harry snapped back. His breathing was rushing along. He was afraid he was about to start crying, and that was not going to happen in front of Snape. That would only just prove you don’t really care about me!
            My bite would only send you to sleep. Perhaps you would wake up with a clearer head if you got some sleep right now.
            Harry wrapped his arms around his knees, sheltering Dash within them mostly because he had no choice, and said nothing. It was—he didn’t think that he really deserved less than Ron or Hermione just because of who he was. That wasn’t it. They had great families, and he didn’t want to talk about them hurting his friends, and Snape was a bastard for making Harry even think of it, anyway.
            That is not the reason. Dash’s voice sliced through his thoughts like Dash’s fangs slicing through the neck of a rabbit.
            It was just—Harry was tougher, that was all. The way that he had pulled the basilisk fang out of his arm in the Chamber last year and got on with saving Ginny. His experience with the Dursleys had made him tougher. That was all he meant. It wasn’t that the things they did weren’t horrible. It was just that they hurt him less than they would have hurt someone like Hermione or Ron.
            So you’re not different, except that you are, said Dash. Yes, you’re utterly logical and adult right now.
            Harry dug his fingers into his hair for a second, at least until Dash’s tail tapped him on the cheek. No hurting yourself, I don’t care how upset you are.
            Yeah, you don’t care, Harry said, mutinously, ignoring the way that he could feel Snape staring at him. Let the bastard wait. That’s pretty clear from the way you’re talking to me now.
            And would I have defended you from the wolf if I didn’t care? Would I have translated the things that Dumbledore was actually saying, the excuses he was making?
            Harry took a harsh, complicated breath and stared at his hands. Then he looked back up and said, “I would want to stop Hermione or Ron from being starved.” It was the only answer he could give, and it was the truth.
            Snape nodded, looking at him in that quiet way he had that made Harry want to writhe and crawl into a corner. It wasn’t even that it was bad, like so many of the looks he used to give Harry in Potions. It was just that it made him feel looked at. And he had dreaded being that way ever since last year, at least, if not earlier.
            Of course your relatives didn’t want anyone to look at you. They might have seen that you were abused.
            Not everything about me goes back to the Dursleys, you know, Harry said, and took another deep breath. “I can talk about this,” he told Snape. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have come here and said that I was going to, you know?”
            “You will need to talk about it in more detail,” said Snape quietly. “And not falter when someone asks you if it was abuse. Because there are those, I will tell you now, Harry, who will want to deny that you were abused, if only because it would disturb their comfortable world view. They want the Boy-Who-Lived to be one thing, and will not like you telling them that you are something else.”
            “Yeah, I know that,” said Harry tiredly. “Like last year, when they didn’t want me to be a Parselmouth or the Heir to Slytherin, but there were a bunch of people who thought it anyway.” He dug his hands into the sides of the chair, and Dash reached down and carefully detached his wrists, presumably because he was also digging his nails into the wood, and not even that level of hurting himself was allowed. Harry sagged against the back of the chair. He wished this was less complex. “Or Dumbledore.”
            It seemed to take Snape a second to react to that, but then he leaned forwards. “The Headmaster will deny that you were abused? Do you have proof of this, or do you only think it?”
            Harry flinched. Of course he should have remembered the way that Snape had always corrected Harry if he said someone’s title without “Professor” in front of it. Adults stuck together like that. Snape wasn’t going to stick together with his relatives, or the people who would deny that he was abused if they were outside the school, but—
            “Harry.”
            It took Harry a moment to slow his breathing and focus his eyes on something other than the vision of Snape turning his back, just like everyone else who can’t slither, but then he saw. Snape had bent down in front of the chair and was eyeing him with something Harry couldn’t lie to himself about. It was concern, the same thing he felt from Dash in his thoughts.
            Now you can admit it.
            Harry didn’t acknowledge Dash’s words, feeling like he was in a dream as Snape took his hand.
            “I am here,” said Snape. “I cannot promise to spare you from all pain, as I was the one who suggested you do this in the first place. And we do not have the best history. But I will do what I can to ease your worries if you tell me what they are.”
            “It’s just,” said Harry, and he closed his eyes and sat there for a long second, because he wasn’t going to cry like a baby.
            Do you want me to speak to him, the way I spoke to the dog-man? Dash was there, wrapped around most of his body, although Harry didn’t know how he had managed to move that much when Harry was still wrapped around him in turn. I will be happy to use your voice.
            Harry choked a little, and got his sobs under control. No. Thank you. But I think I have to speak to him. I don’t think he really trusts you, or he would call you by your name.
            There is that, said Dash, and eased back onto his lap again. All the time, Snape’s hand stayed absolutely still and firm on Harry’s.
            Harry opened his eyes and said dully, “I was—I was in his office just now. He kept talking about how hard Sirius and Lupin have had it. Their hard lives. Dash said—Dash said he was making excuses. He was talking in my head all the time Dumbledore was talking. So I know that—that what he says isn’t all true. But it—Sirius grew up with a horrible family, too! Why doesn’t he apologize? That should just make him apologize more!”
            Snape was silent and still for a long moment. Then he said, “Perhaps he will, when the details of your story come out.”
            Harry couldn’t conceal a bitter snort, but he only shook his head when Snape looked at him narrowly. “I don’t think he will. He didn’t apologize right after it happened. He was just concerned about Lupin. And Lupin won’t apologize, and I think Dumbledore was trying to tell me that they never will. They’re just so bloody concerned about each other!”
            His voice rose, and Snape looked at him again. Then he said, “They were concerned with each other when they were friends in school, as well. I do not think that has changed.” He turned and swished his wand, and something flew into his hand.
            Harry immediately shook his head when he recognized the soft sheen of a Calming Draught in its vial. “No. I don’t want it.”
            “It may help you get through the rest of a story I think you need to tell,” said Snape, and went on holding it out.
            “No.”
            Harry stared at Snape for a minute as the man tensed, wondering if he would make him take it. Then Snape would be just like everyone else. That would be easier, in a way, Harry thought. He would like it if he could just yell at Snape and everything would be all right. If Snape was horrible again, it would be horrible, too, but at least that would be something Harry understood.
            Then I will bite him, as well.
            Harry laid his hand on Dash’s head, but didn’t really breathe until Snape made a small grimace and set the potion down on the floor. “Very well.” He stood up and stared at Harry, searchingly. Then he said, “Perhaps you should take one before you speak in public for the first time about your abuse, though.”
            “Thanks, I will,” said Harry, because he thought being a little polite would be a good idea. Then he turned his head away and said, “I don’t want to talk about Sirius and Lupin right now. Can we just talk about the Dursleys?”
            “It must be bad,” Snape murmured, “if you are willing to bring your relatives up before your godfather and his friend.”
            Harry could have told Snape why it was painful. He didn’t even know if the thoughts had originally come from him or Dash, but he knew why it was so painful. Because the Dursleys had never acted like they cared about him, and Sirius had.
            But he couldn’t say that. It would only lead them straight back into the conversation that Harry wanted to avoid. So he sat there and stared at Snape, and Snape nodded and said, “We were talking about what you would be willing to reveal to the press. The cupboard. The starvation.” He gave Harry a sharp look, but Harry didn’t object to the use of the word this time. It was kind of hard, when he’d thought about it.
            Besides, Dash rapped him on the thigh with his tail when he thought about denying it.
            “What else?” Snape asked.
            Harry thought, then shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know what else there really is. The rest of it wasn’t abuse. It was just normal stuff.”
            “You will explain your use of that phrase.”
            Harry eyed Snape cautiously. He sounded angry again, and Harry didn’t know why. After all, he was telling the truth, and he was going to do what Snape wanted.
*
            Has the boy never had anyone but his bloody basilisk express concern for him, that he takes mine the wrong way?
            Probably so, Severus thought, forcing himself to ease back in his chair and adopt a posture and even expression of calm indifference again. Or at least, the boy wasn’t used to adults expressing that sort of thing for him. He had probably received support from his friends, perhaps some of Weasley’s older brothers, and not much of anyone else.
            “I am not angry at you,” said Severus, because he would be explicit when there was need. He wanted to encourage much the same honesty in the boy, after all. “I am angry with your relatives. I do not—like to think about what has been done to you.” If only because it meant he had to think about his own complicity in depriving the boy of his parents and condemning him to the life he had undergone.
            Harry finally eased back in the chair and nodded. “You’re being pretty good to think of it at all,” he muttered, and groped for his cold cup of tea.
            Someone must. Severus only remained still, though, and Harry finally sighed and said, “My cousin—chased me. Bullied me. Beat me up. And my relatives locked me in the cupboard all the time when I did something magical. I didn’t know what it was then, but they did. So if I was somehow up on the roof of the school and they didn’t know how it happened and I didn’t know how it happened, they would lock me up.”
            Severus half-closed his eyes, because he was reliving a particular moment with James Potter, and although the boy had demonstrated no skill at Legilimency, he did not want it to show on his face. “Your aunt and uncle? Did they verbally abuse you?”
            Harry relaxed a little. “So my cousin—it wasn’t so bad?”
            “Did your aunt and uncle ever encourage him to stop?” Severus asked quietly. In truth, he was not sure what could be done to another child under wizarding law, particularly a Muggle child who had probably not known the truth about Harry’s magic, either.
            But Petunia and her husband…
            They were fair targets.
            “No,” said Harry. He seemed eager to be honest now that he thought he would spare his disgusting relatives punishment, Severus thought, both saddened and revolted. “They told me off when I got better marks than him in school or said something back to him, though.”
            Severus arched his eyebrows. Some behavior from Harry that he hadn’t been able to understand when it came to classes was now explained.
            But he said only, “I see. Is that something you are also willing to talk about when the press asks you questions?”
            “’Course.” Harry sat up and gave him a wise look, which was immeasurably added to by the basilisk that coiled softly around his arms and his throat. Others would have to take him seriously as a threat if he had a snake like that, Severus thought. That would provide a measure of protection for him that more resembled his reputation than a basilisk’s normal ability to strike with poison. That could only be a good thing. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t.”
            Severus eased him with more questions about that, questions that did let them plot out a strategy and that did not distress Harry unduly. Indeed, as they spoke Harry seemed to forget about the disastrous meeting in the Headmaster’s office, enough to function anyway. He actually laughed at one point, and when Severus called a house-elf for food, he ate most of what Severus put in front of him.
            He had gained enough of the boy’s confidence to be going on with, Severus thought, and let him go when it was time. He had pressed all he could. Hopefully he had at least made Harry think about who could be there for him beyond Black.
            And the basilisk.
            Severus found himself watching the snake as Harry carried him out of the room. The basilisk watched Severus in turn over Harry’s shoulder, and then flicked out its tongue in what could have been a mocking salute or a simple attempt to catch his scent, before curling rapidly around Harry’s neck. No one would be able to strike at Harry there without encountering a wealth of thick scales and diving poisonous fangs, Severus knew.
            That was some comfort to Severus as he shut his office door.
*
            “Why are you staring so hard at Professor Lupin, Harry? You know it’s not polite!”
            Hermione’s words as they came out of Defense were so scathing that Harry abruptly decided he’d had enough. Before, he had actually been grateful for his ability to fool his friends. It removed an additional source of stress if they didn’t know and didn’t press him about Sirius or Lupin or Dumbledore, and it was nice to talk to someone who didn’t look at him in the knowing way Snape and Draco did.
            But Harry didn’t want to listen to someone defend Lupin, either. And his friends had mostly not noticed because they trusted him and thought he would have told them if something was wrong.
            So now he would.
            “Listen,” he said, bending close to Hermione and Ron. “It’s almost dinner. Meet me after dinner in the Owlery, okay?”
            “Harry, what—”
            But Harry just nodded to Ron as if he’d already agreed and broke away from them, jogging towards the Owlery. He wasn’t hungry, and he had no desire to go to dinner and see Dumbledore looking at him with a terrible kindness.
            They would have noticed before now if you didn’t have the practice in concealing abuse which you learned at your relatives’ house, Dash murmured to him when they were up in the Owlery and Harry was stroking Hedwig. Hedwig eyed Dash and flexed her claws. Dash, meanwhile, ignored her as a tasty, feathery flying snack. He had told Harry that his taste didn’t run to raptors anyway.
            Harry thought that had a lot more to do with Hedwig’s talons and beak than Dash’s taste, but he was smart enough not to say so.
            I can hear you thinking it. How is that an improvement?
            Harry was spared the necessity of answering because Ron and Hermione came up then. Hermione’s face was red, and Harry didn’t think it was from the climb up the stairs.
            Sure enough, she began to scold him. “Harry, you should have been at dinner. You’re thin enough already!”
            “Here,” Ron muttered, and held out a chicken leg and a big piece of bread covered with butter in a napkin. Harry smiled at him and ate the chicken on his own, sharing the bread with Dash. Hermione, abruptly deprived of something to fuss about, blinked and petted Hedwig for a while, then sat down on the floor near the wall and watched Harry. Ron stood next to her, looking at the owls longingly.
            Harry sighed as he finished eating. “All right, it’s like this. I went home that day, and Sirius went to a meeting about the Black estates, and…”
            It didn’t take long to tell—probably longer than it had to live through, though. When he’d finished, Hermione had her hand over her mouth and her eyes full of tears. Ron had a nasty scowl on his face.
            “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hermione said, and then she rushed forwards and gathered him in her arms, Dash and all. Harry closed his eyes and held her, and Dash, probably because he knew how much Harry needed the hug, slithered up to a perch on top of his head without comment and let his tail dangle down Harry’s back.
            “Damn, mate,” said Ron, his voice empty and his face working in the grip of some strong emotion, and then he burst out, “Why didn’t you tell us?”
            “Because I was so torn up,” said Harry. “I didn’t really want to tell anyone. But a few people noticed something was wrong, and…” He swallowed. It made a click in his throat. Hermione still hadn’t let go of him, and she shuffled a little closer when she heard that. “The Headmaster just kept talking to me about how hard it was for Lupin as a werewolf, and how hard Sirius’s life was, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”
            “Yes, I can understand why.” Hermione stood back from him with tears on her face now, although she wiped at them angrily. “I’m sorry I got on your back about staring at Professor Lupin earlier.”
            “And neither of them apologized?” Ron demanded.
            Harry shook his head.
            Ron came forwards then and awkwardly patted both Harry and Hermione on the shoulder, dividing his pats evenly between the two of them. “Well, who needs adults, anyway?” he said bracingly. “We can make it up to you every bit as well as they can, right, Hermione? And Harry, you can come and stay with us during the summer. You’re welcome, any time.”
            Harry smiled weakly back. He was thinking that it would be nice if he had an adult who was concerned about him, someone who could live with him, too.
            But he didn’t have that, and he would just have to make the best of it.
            You shall have it someday, Dash said abruptly. Because you deserve it, and I shall get it for you. His tail came down and hugged Harry around the shoulders.
            Harry, standing there in the embrace of his three best friends, decided that he would leave that thought until later. Right now, he had a lot. He had forgotten how much.
*
ChaosLady: Thank you!
Severus1snape: Going to be quite some time before there’s any romance between them!
eros: Yes. Even when Harry is trying to manipulate himself.
Meechypoo: Harry hasn’t even thought of that yet. He thinks that a lot of people will doubt him and believe Dumbledore like they always do.
starr: There is another factor behind the way Sirius is acting, one I’ve tried to subtly hint at, but I don’t think anyone has picked up on it yet.
slashficlover: Thank you!
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A Brother to Basilisks