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The Serpent's Gaze, Book Five: The Lernaean Hydra	By : DictionaryWrites Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3108 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and the characters therein belong to JK Rowling; I'm playing in the sandbox, as it were, whilst claiming no ownership and making no money.

Chapter List
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It's been nearly two weeks of Harry being free to wander London, alone. Sometimes he'll walk with Remus or Sirius through Muggle London, and they even went out to Manchester one evening, went out to dinner as a family. It's fine, and Harry is glad of it, glad of the intimacy they can have together, of the familial stuff... But a part of him wants to completely isolate himself, walk out to the mountains near Hogwarts or drop himself in the middle of rural Bulgaria. And Sirius and Remus let him have some alone time, sure, but they worry too much to let him completely leave for any length of time.
"Hogwarts lets out today," Sirius murmurs. He's in Harry's windowsill, the window wide open and one of his legs hanging down out of it, his other drawn up to his chest so that he can rest his elbow on his knee. In his right hand he holds a cigarette, ensuring most of the smoke goes out of the window instead of staying in Harry's room. He looks so young like this, Harry thinks - Sirius isn't ancient or anything, no, but when he's relaxed in Harry's window frame, looking vaguely thoughtful, Harry can get a glimpse of the teenager he'd been.
Did Sirius sit like this in the Gryffindor dormitory, as Harry's dad sat on his bed? Did they sneak cigarettes while Remus was out of the house during the war, working?
The idea bites at Harry's relaxed mood, and he runs his hand through his hair.
"Yeah," Harry says. "I'm gonna go to the train station and meet people." Sirius nods his head, taking a slow drag of the cigarette. He'd gone out and bought his own when he realised Harry had begun to smoke, and Sirius does it more often than Harry himself. He likes menthol cigarettes: Harry'd taken a drag of one and nearly gagged at the almost-minty taste clinging to the roof of his mouth, so it's best that they have separate habits. Harry doesn't know how ready he really is to head out. There's going to be a lot of people around, he knows, but he wants to see Fred and George, Hermione, Draco... "I'll probably go out in an hour or so."
Sirius flicks a little of his ash out of the window, and he looks at Harry. His expression is solemn, and it doesn't really fit his facial features. Harry has been so used to Sirius grinning and smiling, even when he was just out of Azkaban and shaking every other second. "Cissy said she wants to have a family dinner next week. Me and you and Remus, Drom, Tonks and Ted, her and Draco..." Harry glances to him. Sirius looks uncertain about it, like he's waiting for Harry to approve and assuming he won't, but Harry nods his head.
"Yeah, that sounds good." There's a short pause, and Harry asks, "She invited Remus, huh?" Sirius looks out of the window, apparently focused on not looking at Harry. His expression is carefully schooled into something neutral, and Harry remembers what a good liar Sirius is. Purebloods learn to be, don't they? Purebloods with families like Sirius', anyway.
"I think Cissy... I think she feels lonely. Purebloods like that, they don't do the big family that the Weasleys have, you know? Even when they do have a lot of kids, family is more of a duty than a love thing. When I was a kid, Harry, I remember big dinners where barely a word would be said at the table. Narcissa's always lived like that; Drom broke out of it, and so did I. I think she kinda wants to embrace the nontraditional right now." Harry nods his head. He can't help but wonder, sometimes, what it is that Sirius thinks of the bits of family he has left, if he wishes he had more of his family to go to. Sirius has only ever criticized his family, from what Harry has heard, but still.
"Then she should invite Snape," Harry says. Sirius' head whips towards him.
"Don't worry: he won't come. But he's more family to her than I am."
"You don't really think that," Sirius says. "You're like-- I'm sorry if you don't like me saying this, Harry, but I think of you like a son - so does Remus. We always have." He looks so nervous about saying it, and Harry lies back on the bed, staring up at his ceiling.
"No, I know," Harry says. "I think of you guys like parents, in a way. I love you and Remus, Sirius, but Snape is like Draco's uncle, in a lot of ways. A weird, aggressively sarcastic uncle that kind of looks like a vampire bat--" Sirius sniggers. "--but an uncle nonetheless." Sirius' lip is curled when Harry looks at him, but after the longest pause, he gives a single nod of his head.
"I'll tell her you said that," Sirius says. The reluctance in his voice is plain, but he says it like it's a promise.
---
Harry stands on Platform 9 3/4, his hands in his pockets. He wears a button-up shirt and some jeans, but overtop of his Muggle clothes he wears a cloak that's buckled at his neck - it's a light, summer cloak, but he'd just grabbed it off the rack before picking up a jacket. He feels kinda weird, standing here on the platform, given that the others standing around are parents or families. Here he is, a teen standing on his own, and he must look really out of place, but nobody talks to him - thank Merlin.
The train comes slowly into the station, and Harry smiles as he sees the kids pressed against the windows, waving at their parents and calling out to their younger siblings; Harry gets onto the train and he stands with the prefects, helping them pull the younger children's cases down onto the platform. Harry's so used to using all the magic he wants back at the flat, and it's funny being out in public, obeying the law.
"Hey, Harry!" Fred says, and he drops his trunk heavily into Harry's arms, making him let out an oof of sound.
"Hey, Fred," Harry replies, and throws the trunk back at him. Fred grins at him, barely seeming shocked by the sudden weight in his arms, and he throws his trunk down the steps to George, who catches it with ease. Bloody Beaters and their stocky builds. Hermione runs up the platform towards them, and Harry steps down, letting her pull him into a tight, bone-breaking hug. Hermione's grin is as wide as Harry's ever seen it, and he takes her trunk from her, setting it down on the platform and turning to wave for Hermione's parents to come over. As Hermione greets her parents, talking away to them at such a speed that Harry can barely understand it, Harry makes light conversation with the twins.
Molly and Arthur Weasley are at the other end of the platform, fussing over Ron and Ginny as they come off the train. They look sheepish and irritated with the attention respectively, and Harry can read in Fred and George's body language that they're inwardly bracing themselves for the attention. "Give us a hand there, would you, Harry?" George says, nodding his head to a separate case holding their brooms and beater's equipment, and Harry arches an eyebrow at him. George's grin is anything but ashamed.
"You transparent bastard," Harry says, but he grabs hold of the bag nonetheless, and follows the twins over to the family. Fred is laughing, shoving Harry in the side and ruffling his hair, holding his trunk on his right shoulder, and Harry can't help but shake his head as he comes over and places the bag on top of Ginny, Ron and George's trunks on the trolley Arthur has ready.
"What are you three laughing about?" Molly asks.
"Harry's been out on the town, Mum. Got a Muggle girl pregnant." The gasp of horror is theatrical, but not feigned, from what Harry can see, and Harry elbows Fred hard enough in the side that he lets out a groan of pain.
"Nobody is pregnant, Molly, and everything is fine." Mrs Weasley slumps with relief, and as she fusses over the reluctant but resigned figures of the twins, Harry turns to the patriarch of the Weasley family.
"I used to say that, you know," Arthur tells him, dreamily. Ginny sniggers, and she looks at Harry, giving him a smile. It's strange - Harry's only gone maybe a month or two without seeing her, since before the murder, but she looks so different. Perhaps it's that her hair is a little longer, or that she's getting more sleep: her face seems fuller, prettier, her eyes seem brighter. He's never noticed her smile being especially nice to look at before. "How are you, Harry?"
"I'm okay, Arthur. I've just been studying a little for next year, reading a bit... It's quiet in London, at the moment, as I'm sure you know. Most people are staying inside." Ginny's brow furrows, and she looks between Harry and Arthur, seeming to take in and be irritated by their serious expressions; Ron's nose is wrinkled, and Harry realizes in the instant how similar the faces they make can be. But Harry isn't exactly speaking in code, so there's hardly any reason for resentment toward him for saying it. "I've been hanging around Muggles a lot."
"You're staying safe?" Arthur prompts, and Harry feels the urge to sigh, but guilt cuts the expression before he can release it.
"Yeah, of course," Harry says, and Arthur nods seriously. He keeps eye contact with Harry for a little longer than he ordinarily would. Arthur isn't showing some unusual sign of ageing, no especially new grey hairs, no new lines in his face, but the worry radiating from him, the quiet comprehension that the world is building once again to some threatening crescendo, is palpable. He's a good man. "George, write me, yeah? I'll come over to Ottery St. Catchpole sometime in the summer, if you want."
"That'd be great," George says, giving a nod, and George pulls him into a hug, with Fred pulling Harry toward him the second after. As he comes closer, Fred leans in slightly, to murmur in Harry's ear.
"We'll Floo you tonight. 1 o'clock."
"Got it," Harry mutters back, and he gives Molly a not-entirely mocking salute that she laughs and returns before Harry heads across the platform. Hermione is talking animatedly, and Peggy and Jon are chattering back to her. They ask a lot of questions, Harry notices, but only about stuff she's already speaking about. They always give Harry the impression of wanting more knowledge rather than being protective over her, and he has to wonder sometimes how difficult it might be for them to parent the way they do. Hermione is smart, of course, but they're so hands-off compared to other parents, like Molly and Arthur, or Narcissa and--
Harry looks around the platform, half-expecting to see the tall, dark-clad figure of Lucius Malfoy cutting through the crowd, but there's no such luck. He sees Narcissa, though, just spying her as she leaves the station with Draco in tow, and Harry feels a sickly feeling in the base of his stomach. The man is dead. Why would he be here?
"Harry?" Hermione looks at him as if she's just said his name a few times.
"Yeah?"
"Dad just asked if you want to come for lunch with us."
"Oh, right," he says, feeling a little embarrassed heat come into his face. What must he look like, staring around the platform, searching for a dead man? Peggy is looking at him with a little worry on her face, but Harry forces a smile. "Yeah, I'd love to, actually. Where is it you two wanted to go?" As Peggy and Jon turn to each other, throwing a few restaurant names out apiece, Harry meets Hermione's slightly worried gaze.
"You okay?" she mouths.
"On the way there," he replies. It is a testament to how different Hermione is to a few years ago, Harry supposes, that rather than immediately shooting a thousand questions at him, she gives a small nod of her head, and then relaxes into the silence.
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The Serpent's Gaze, Book Five: The Lernaean Hydra