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A Brother to Basilisks	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 85172 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 15
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Four—At the Turn of the Tide
            “Mate, don’t move.”
            Ron’s voice was soft and hoarse. Harry blinked his eyes open, and blinked again when he saw Ron’s wand pointed straight at him. It took him a long, long second to realize why it was probably happening.
            Then he rolled his eyes and deliberately moved an arm so he was stroking his hand along Dash’s shimmering scales. “Ron, it’s okay.”
            Ron twitched, and said in a voice so quiet that Harry was surprised his stroking Dash didn’t cover it up, “Mate, you’ve got a bloody great snake on you. It’s going to kill you and eat you, I think. Unless I can curse it first.” He licked his lips. “I’ve never tried the Blasting Curse before, but I will, okay? Just hold still.”
            “You are not using the Blasting Curse on me,” Harry said, and grabbed Dash’s head just in time as he started to whip towards Ron with his mouth open. “And you’re not cursing Dash. He’s my friend.”
            Ron stared at him. “Are you mental?”
            Perhaps you are, for having such friends. Dash moved so that more of his body emerged from under the covers, making Ron gasp. Harry doubted that Ron had realized how big Dash was until then. Let me bite him.
            You know that that potion Dumbledore gave you will just dilute the venom, anyway, Harry pointed out, and tugged a little at the plume on top of Dash’s head.
            From Dash’s agitated hiss, he really didn’t like that. Before Harry had a chance to stop him, he said, That is why I should bite him, and lashed towards Ron across the bed like an unfolding ball of string.
            Harry snatched his tail just in time to hold him back. Ron had leaped back, too, and was yelling so loudly that Harry heard the others stirring and muttering and waking up.
            Just the way I wanted them to meet Dash, Harry thought in disgust, and glared at Ron, shaking his head. “He’s the basilisk I’m bonded to,” he said. “I know that you think it’s a good idea to curse him, but it’s really, really not.”
            By now, the others were up, and they focused on one word each.
            “Basilisk,” said Neville, and dived back into his bed, tugging the curtains shut behind him. Harry thought he heard the whisper of a terrified spell that was probably meant to continue holding them shut, too.
            “Bonded?” Dean was staring around as if this was one of those strange wizarding world things and he wanted to know where Hermione was when he needed her.
            “No, it’s a really good idea,” said Seamus, and started to lift his wand so that it was level with Ron’s—or level with where Ron’s would have been, Harry thought, if he could have got his hand to stop shaking.
            “Stop it!” said Harry. He put a lot of force into the word, but didn’t yell. He thought he would get their attention better if he didn’t yell. And it made Dash turn around and consider him, too, then ripple back across the bed and wrap around his waist, levering most of his weight onto Harry’s shoulder.
            That is the way, he said, and rested his chin on top of Harry’s head. I knew you had it in you to do things like that.
            Harry didn’t have the chance to ask what he meant, because Ron was demanding, “Where the hell did you get that thing, mate?”
            I am not a thing, said Dash haughtily. That stick of wood in his hand is a thing. How would he like it if I broke that stick of wood?
            Harry had the feeling that he was going to be thanking his lucky stars a lot that no one else could overhear what Dash said to him down the privacy of the bond. “I heard him calling me in the night,” he said, and shifted Dash so that he was more comfortably settled around Harry. “He was in the Chamber of Secrets.”
            Dean shook his head with a tragic expression on his face. “I can’t believe you went down there, Harry. It’s no place for a Gryffindor.”
            “Why was he there?” Seamus was holding his fire for now, but he kept looking back and forth nervously between Dash and Harry. At least he seemed to have realized that Dash was doing something to dim his gaze, because he wasn’t yelling about falling over dead. “I thought you killed the basilisk in the Chamber!”
            “These were eggs.” Harry said that bit reluctantly, because he thought he could predict what they would say next.
            Sure enough.
            “Let’s smash them!” said Seamus. “And maybe we can put him back in the egg and smash him too, or something. Does Hagrid have new roosters? We can bring one in here and have it crow, and bang, there’s one dead basilisk and one free Harry!”
            Harry felt the way he had that time Dudley had caught him at school and told Piers to hold a match to his feet. He shot out of the bed so fast it was like he had wings, and rushed at Seamus. Seamus barely had time for a startled yelp before he was staggering backwards, one hand on his cheek, staring at Harry like he was a stranger.
            Harry didn’t even know why he had used his hands instead of his wand. He should have. He was that angry.
            You’re so angry that you couldn’t think of a spell that would hurt him enough, said Dash. He sounded calm, even though he’d been left sprawled across Harry’s bed by the force of Harry’s leap. He crawled towards him now and entwined himself around Harry’s legs, lifting his head so that it was nudging at Harry’s dangling hand. You don’t know enough spells yet. We’ll fix that soon.
            Harry shut his eyes and turned away, but he spoke in a low, vicious voice that he hoped they could all understand. Maybe he’d made a mistake by not yelling earlier after all. “I never want to hear you say that again. Dash is mine.”
            And I’m yours, said Dash. Just in case anyone gets it into their head that they can have you.
            Harry was glad that he didn’t have to translate that. It would come out the wrong way in English, the way it wouldn’t in mental-speak or even Parseltongue. Now that he thought about it, with Dash’s perspective pulsing in the back of his head, he knew that Parseltongue possessiveness could be about a nest and include a lot of defensiveness.
            “Harry,” said Seamus. “You know what those things can do. You fought one last year.”
            “That one belonged to Slytherin,” said Harry, his head still turned away. He’d torn himself away from Dudley and Piers when they’d tried to use the match. He’d run and run and run, and felt as if he had the strength and energy to run to the end of the world to get away from them. He could have spent a lot more time punching Seamus and hurting him, too. He was only glad that he hadn’t needed to. “It was going around petrifying people. There’s no way I could have talked to it and made it stop hurting people, because it belonged to Slytherin. But Dash is mine. He won’t hurt anyone.”

            You have to start adding “and I’m his” to the end of your statements, said Dash resentfully. And remember that I’m not hurting people right now. It’s different when you tell me to.
            Harry hunched his shoulders a little. He knew what Dash was suggesting, but he didn’t want Dash to bite Seamus. He didn’t want Seamus to hurt Dash, either. He was just—he just wanted to have the world be like it was before, but better, because Dash was with him.
            Of course it will be. I make everything better.
            “What are those, Harry?”
            Neville was peering out of his curtains again, maybe because he knew now that no one was falling dead from Dash’s gaze or poison. Harry dully followed Neville’s pointing finger, and blinked. The silver objects that Dumbledore had enchanted were whizzing around his bed, dancing around each other as they circled towards Dash. Dash watched them tolerantly.
            “Dumbledore put them there as mirrors in case Dash tried to look at someone,” Harry mumbled. “He gave him a potion that diluted his venom, too.”
            Neville took a breath so deep that his face puffed up with the effort. “Then—does that mean that he can’t hurt people?”
            Harry shrugged. “It would still hurt if he bit you.” He reached down and picked up Dash, settling him around his shoulders and waist, ignoring how heavy Dash was. “But it wouldn’t kill you.”
            “Th-then I think we ought to accept Dash,” said Neville, and he glanced around as though he wanted to look the others in the eye, although he looked away again when Dean and Ron stared at him. “We know Harry isn’t evil. He just has a b-basilisk.”
            “But people are going to say that you’re the Heir of Slytherin again, mate,” Ron tried, with the sound of desperation in his voice.
            “I don’t care,” Harry said stubbornly. “Dash matters more.”
            You matter more. That’s also something you should start thinking.
            Harry rolled his eyes a little and would have retorted, but Ron said, “What if other people try to hurt him?”
            “Then he can defend himself,” Harry said, and looked Ron dead in the eye. “Unless you don’t think he can because Dumbledore tried to restrain him a little.”
            “No,” said Ron, and gave Dash another sidelong look. “But you have to admit this is pretty bloody strange, mate. I don’t know what Hermione’s going to say when she finds out.”
            Dean and Seamus were going into the bathroom, giving Harry and Dash dark looks all the while. Neville scuttled around Harry with a handful of towels and a timid smile, but stopped when Harry smiled at him and said, “Thanks. I think I owe you one.”
            “I know that y-you aren’t evil,” said Neville, and nodded at him. “And you wouldn’t let him bite me.”
            Harry had to admit that was true. Even if Dash needed to defend himself, it wouldn’t be from Neville. “Thanks anyway,” he said. He thought that Neville’s acceptance was one reason Seamus and Dean had left instead of trying to press the issue.
            Neville nodded again and ran off. Ron shook his head, long and slow. “You should go ahead and get ready for breakfast, mate. It’s probably going to take forever to get out of the common room once Hermione sees that.”
            “Can you please stop talking about him like he’s a thing?” Harry snapped, and put a hand on the back of Dash’s neck when he tried to raise his head. “He doesn’t like it, and neither do I, and it’s hard listening to all the comments he can make to me every time you do it.”
            Ron gaped at him for a second. “I didn’t hear him hissing. How is he talking to you?”
            “In my mind,” Harry said. “I told you we were bonded. This is what it means. He can talk to me, and no one else can hear, but he understands what I hear, too. So he knows when someone is saying something uncomplimentary things about him in English.”
            He expected Ron to either question his sanity or break and run, but instead, Ron’s face lit up like sunrise. “Brilliant. Do you think he could tell you all the answers during a Potions exam? And could you get me into the bond so I could hear?”
            I will wither away of boredom if I have to listen to his thoughts, Dash announced, curling himself on Harry’s shoulder with solemn dignity, and flowing around his neck.
            It’s impossible anyway, Harry reassured him. At least, he didn’t know any way to let Ron into the bond, and he didn’t think he would have wanted to even if he did know, whether Ron was his best friend or not. Dash was just his. He didn’t want someone to come in and share.
            You have someone who can share everything, now, said Dash. And Harry hugged the warmth that produced to himself while he smiled and told Ron that Dash didn’t care about Potions exams and would probably spend all the time considering the Potions ingredients for things he could eat anyway.
*
            “Harry!”
            Hermione had come bounding across the room to hug him and had been saying something about Lupin, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw Dash. Harry petted Dash’s smooth scales on the back of his head and gave Hermione a sheepish smile.
            “Where did you get a basilisk?” asked Hermione, and then began to shake a little. Harry remembered abruptly that she was one of the people who had been petrified and put in the hospital wing. “That’s a basilisk. Where did you get it? What happened?”
            One of your friends cares about exams, and one is repetitive, said Dash. I knew that. But they seem to have mixed themselves up with each other.
            Harry turned a snort into a cough, and gave Hermione a quick outline of the story, the cry for help he’d heard, and the Chamber of Secrets. By the time he did, Hermione had recovered some of her calm and asked something no one else had been brave enough to do. “Can I pet him?”
            Why not? Dash turned his head slowly back and forth. I suppose I should learn all about this world that I’m living in, and your hands and clothes and bedsheets and the animals I eat are not enough textures.
            Harry rolled his eyes a little, and nodded. Hermione came up close to him, ignoring the way that Ron muttered and held back, and stroked the warm scales on Dash’s body where it wound around Harry’s waist. “He’s so soft,” she whispered.
            Tell her to pet me when I am full of the bodies of animals, said Dash, and then flicked his tongue out and towards the staircases that led up to the girls’ rooms. What is up there? It smells good.
            You are not eating Hermione’s Kneazle, Harry told him sternly, and smiled again at Hermione. “He is, kind of. And he says that you’re nice.”
            I do not.
            Well, what are you going to do? Stare at me?
            Harry thought Dash would have responded to that, but he always wanted Harry’s full attention when he did, and Hermione was talking and distracting Harry. “You know that everyone is going to stare at you and make fun of you, Harry?” she asked gravely, as if it was a fate worse than death.
            Harry held himself back from snapping. He hadn’t ever told his friends many details about Dudley and other people bullying him in primary school, and he knew that Hermione had been outcast and bullied herself. So she probably couldn’t think of many worse fates that didn’t involve death. “I know. But I have Dash now. I can ignore them.”
            And I can tell you many nasty things about them. Even if you are going to lie and say that I’m complimenting them.
            Harry smiled. That was another side-effect to the bond that he didn’t mind.
            “He’s bonded? He talks to you in your head? Does it feel like someone talking to you through a television, or can you feel it right in your head? Do you think that I could bond with a basilisk and do that?’
            Yes, same old Hermione, Harry thought with a shake of his head, but it was a fond shake, and he did his best to answer Hermione’s questions as they walked down to breakfast.
*
            Draco looked up only when people began shrieking. He was trying not to pay Potter too much attention until he came up with some new taunts about Sirius Black. Besides, his arm was aching again where that awful beast had mauled him, and he was trying to convince Blaise, who didn’t believe him, to pass the marmalade to Vince, who was sitting between Draco and Blaise and would put the marmalade on Draco’s toast if Blaise would only pass it.
            But shrieks were something new.
            And so was the enormous bloody snake around Potter’s waist. And the shiny silver objects that circled around him.
            Barely breathing, Draco watched as even some of the Slytherins leaped to their feet and shouted, and the Professors frowned from the High Table. They didn’t look so surprised, Draco thought. Someone must already have told them.
            A thought of complaining to his father if he knew about it and hadn’t told Draco flowed through his head, but then it flowed away again as he concentrated on Potter and trying to identify what kind of snake he had. Draco knew that most snakes didn’t grow that big, which limited the number of candidates. It also meant Potter had probably raised it for a while in secret before bringing it into the school, and Draco wondered, mildly impressed, where he had got the time and effort to do it.
            And why couldn’t he have a snake, if Potter had one?
            Then Potter touched the snake’s head and leaned down as if as he was speaking to it, and the snake reared up. Draco leaned along the side. He would see the hood flaring now, if it was a cobra and had a hood.
            But it didn’t.
            It had a plume, instead, and something like dread and wonder mingled slammed into Draco’s heart and made him feel the way he did when he was in the middle of a Quidditch game, when Potter hadn’t spotted the Snitch yet and Draco thought he still had a chance.
            He has a basilisk.
            The words didn’t even leave room for any other thoughts to come after them, for a long moment. Draco just sat there and felt and felt, and Potter moved over and sat down in the middle of the Gryffindor table as though everything was normal, as though he carried in a basilisk on his arm—and around his neck—and around his waist—to breakfast every day.
            The seats near him emptied fast, except for the inevitable Granger and Weasley and, to Draco’s surprise, Longbottom. Well, Longbottom was probably too dim to realize what the thing was, and Weasley too invested in the fame and fortune he hoped to pick up from associating with Potter, and Granger too interested in studying the basilisk. She was asking Potter incessant questions even as he sat, Draco saw.
            “Headmaster!”
            It was Zacharias Smith, someone Draco had never liked. His family drifted back and forth between being blood traitors and being nice and respectable, and Draco thought it was wherever the political winds took them at the moment. His father said they had no conviction.
            “Why is a student allowed to bring a dangerous beast into this school?” Smith stood and pointed a finger at Potter as if he imagined that he was an avenging Fury or something. “We know that he is a Parselmouth, but we did not think he was evil!”
            “Really?” That was Potter’s voice, and Draco had never heard him sound so flat and unimpressed. Well, Smith just doesn’t have my talent for riling him up, Draco congratulated himself. “You thought I was evil last year.”
            Smith stared at him for a second, and then swiveled back to Dumbledore. “Well, Headmaster?”
            There was a loud muttering of agreement, and some more shouting. Dumbledore rose to his feet and studied them all with that mild stare until they fell silent again. Draco nodded a little. His father had been right. Dumbledore had some tricks that were worth copying, even though he was stupid and the worst of blood traitors.
            “I have examined the bond that Mr. Potter has with his snake,” Dumbledore began. “I have looked into his mind myself, using Legilimency, with Mr. Potter’s permission.’
            Draco stared. He was trying to understand what was most remarkable about Dumbledore’s statement: the admission he was a Legilimens, which was something his father suspected but Dumbledore would never confirm in public, or the idea that Potter was bonded with the basilisk.
            Of course Parselmouths could command snakes. That was in all the lore Draco had ever heard about them, and he accepted it without thought. It was one reason he had always envied them and hissed at everything snake-shaped in the Manor for six months before he had to accept that he wasn’t one.
            But a bond? Draco was only aware of bonds from fairy stories, from stories of people riding on dragons they’d impossibly tamed and sea serpents they’d raised from the egg. Bonded animals could speak to people in their minds and were always loyal to them.
            For a second, Draco had to close his eyes. Not only was Potter a Parselmouth, with the gift that Draco would have given anything to possess, but he also had a powerful and dangerous creature who would follow him around and attack anyone he commanded it to.
            It wasn’t fair.
            Lost in glaring at Potter, Draco barely listened to the statements that Dumbledore made, about the mirrors that orbited Potter being able to turn the snake’s gaze back on itself and the potion that he’d fed the snake to dilute its venom. And he only snorted with amused contempt when Dumbledore also announced about the snake’s name being Dash. Of course Potter would name the most dangerous snake in the world something so common.
            Potter seemed to be ignoring Dumbledore, too, and certainly ignoring Draco, and the way that the other Houses stared at him, and even the reassurance that slowly spread across the room in the wake of Dumbledore’s statements. He petted his snake on the head, and listened to it with his head cocked, and a few times hissed aloud and offered it bacon. It refused everything he tried to give it.
            Basilisks prefer live prey, Draco thought. He could have told Potter that.
            Potter finally looked up and caught Draco’s eye. He gave him, not the glare that Draco thought he would receive, but a nasty grin.
            For a moment, Draco thought that Potter had somehow decided that Draco would like a basilisk, too, and was taunting him. But then Draco remembered. He’d never told anyone about wanting a basilisk. He was afraid it would seem too childish.
            Why is he grinning like that?
            The answer was obvious as soon as Draco thought about it, especially when he saw Potter glance at his bandaged arm.
            He knows he could have the basilisk attack me if I really tried to hurt him.
            And that intrigued Draco. Not enough to make him forget his resentment and jealousy, but, well, he’d had to ignore other emotions down the years. Swallow his boredom and make nice with Pansy, for example, during the brief time when the Parkinsons had been politically influential. Since he’d been getting older, his father had been explaining why he asked Draco to do things like that more and more.
            He knew what his father would say now.
            Get close to Potter. You have to. He’s going to be powerful. He already is, if he can force Dumbledore to make compromises like this.
            Because Draco had noticed something else: Dumbledore really only seemed to smile for the other students’ benefit. When he sat down in his place and studied Potter, his eyes were as hard as rubies.
            So. He had a task, an important one. One that he could write to his father and report he’d thought of himself, and already had well in hand.
            And maybe, just maybe…
            Maybe Potter can get me a basilisk too.
*
staar: No, Harry would defend Dash to the death before that happened.
SP777: Snape wouldn’t suggest that. He does feel protective of his Slytherin students and unsure whether Harry would let Dash loose on them.
I don’t have any more plot ideas for another Severitus right now, sorry.
Marron: Even more interesting than Harry thinks. Dumbledore’s speech didn’t calm everybody down.
eros: Draco might try to tell him if he thought Harry would listen.
Meechypoo: Well, first someone has to tell Harry. ;) He’s only concerned about Dash for right now.
Jester: Thank you!
Lunar: But that would neglect the other stories, which want attention, too.
ChaosLady: Thank you!
jamie: Thank you!
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A Brother to Basilisks