Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Stag and The Snake	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4 – Boys Will Be Boys

A/N: Story excerpt from The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairlystupid Tales by Jon Scieszka & Lane Smith

Sirius had not known what to expect when he met his godson, but as he bid the boy goodnight that evening, he felt a tendril of anguish encase his heart. The emotional abuse he no doubt endured at the hands of his blood relatives had been apparent in his every movement, gesture, and word. He was strangely articulate for such a young child, and Sirius did not fail to notice how he would curl up, or fold his knees under him when their conversations grew tense, trying to make himself as physically small as possible. It gave him a strong urge to break something.

But at the same time, he was overwhelmed with something like joy. He was such a little boy with such strength that he probably didn't know that he had. Little Harry had spent five years with people who made no secret of their dislike for him. Hurt him, ostracized him, and utterly neglected him. Harry could have grown up bitter and distrustful, but instead he was a shy but polite little boy, eager to accept attentions from anyone who offered it to him. Knowing a little about how the world worked, Sirius was well aware that that could be a blessing as well as a curse.

After sending Harry to bed that evening, Sirius had all but collapsed into the plush cushions of the sofa. He massaged his temples while he tried to work out his tangle of thoughts. He looked up when he felt a glass being pressed into his hand, and opened his eyes to see a small measure of Ogden's Old Firewhisky in a fingermarked glass. Remus sat down next to him, but didn't speak. The look on his face told Sirius that he, too, had not been ignorant to Harry's physical and emotional reactions over the course of the day.

The slow burn of the alcohol was a welcome distraction while he watched the crackling and jumping flames in the hearth. “I'm not sure I can do this Remus. That boy is so...” Sirius trailed off. He kept his voice low to make sure Harry didn't overhear him, though he had no idea how to finish the thought.

“Damaged,” Remus said, his voice was tense with anger, his gaze never leaving the fire. “It will be some time before Harry will feel comfortable here. Until then, we should be cautious about how we speak around him. It's clear that he was not treated kindly by those...people. To not even tell him that he's a wizard—” Remus cut himself off with something close to a growl, giving his head a small shake.

“And we're expected to hand him back to them? I don't know if I can do that.” Remus smiled bitterly, but didn't answer.

They sat in silence, and the firewhisky did help release some of his tension, despite his anxiety over Harry's welfare over the past five years. He'd never been a parent. And now he was expected to take a five-year-old boy with all the hallmarks of neglect and abuse and somehow help him see that the world was not such a dark, scary place. Sirius had no idea if he was strong enough to do that. Nor, did he truly believe that sentiment. The world wasn't a safe place.

“There's little we can do about his relatives,” Remus said after a pause, his hand extending to Sirius's and lacing their fingers together. “I worry that any intervention on our part might make things worse for Harry, not better.” He punctuated his words with another sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving the fireplace, “but we can make things good for him here. He'll know that whatever happens—” Remus broke off abruptly, and turned his head. Though it had been relatively quiet since they had settled down, suddenly there was a soft noise permeating the stillness of the evening.

“Do you hear that?” Sirius asked, shifting his gaze towards its source, the hallway to the bedrooms. His eyebrows knitted together as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. It sounded like a hissing, a whisper so faint the words blurred together into a singular sound.

“Sounds like Harry's talking to someone,” Remus said. They exchanged a worried look, stood in one fluid motion, and tip toed towards Harry's room. The door had not been fully closed, and the pair leaned forward to peer inside.

Harry was in bed, on his stomach and propped up slightly on his elbows. His legs were bent at the knee, and they swung back and forth minutely in midair. He was reading aloud from a picture book, in a tone barely above a whisper.

“Once upon a time there was a little old woman and a little old man who lived together in a little old house. They were lonely. So the little old lady decided to make a man out of stinky cheese...” the pair watched in quiet wonder as Harry read out the entire story to himself, pausing occasionally to quiver in silent laughter. When he finished, he closed up the book and smoothed his hand across the cover, in a motion that Sirius could only describe as a caress.

Sirius and Remus watched as Harry slipped the book back into his rucksack and tucked it under the bed. “Goodnight Harry,” he whispered to himself while he turned down the lamp. Harry rolled over, and pulled up the covers to his chin.

Remus and Sirius exchanged a mournful look, and walked quietly back to the sitting room. Remus's eyes were a little glassy, and Sirius felt as though his throat had sealed itself. They sat down on the sofa, and Sirius reached out to clasp one of Remus's hands, desperate for some form of comfort. “I don't know about you,” Sirius said a moment later, while Remus traced lazy circled on his Bonded's palm, “but that looked to me like he was reading himself a bedtime story.”

“That was highly advanced reading for someone his age,” Remus said, his voice cracking slightly. “I have a feeling his...relatives felt all too happy to exclude him from that particular bedtime ritual.” Sirius raked his free hand through his hair.

“I'm starting to wonder if he has any happy memories from that house...” Sirius muttered, “I don't know if I can do this...” He followed the repeated words by leaning back against the cushions, staring up at the blank ceiling. It was almost impossible to reign in the burning desire to Apparate to Surrey and do some real damage to those Muggles.

“You have to, Sirius,” Remus said softly, but firmly while squeezing Sirius's hand reassuringly. “Harry has a very uncertain future ahead of him, and we need to show him that he's wanted and loved.”

“He is wanted and loved, Remus.”

“Harry doesn't know that. Harry has grown up being regarded as a burden. We need to show him that we mean what we say when we tell him that we genuinely want him here.” Sirius turned his head to gaze at Remus. The man carried his familiar look of peaceful calm, as well as absolute belief in his words.

“I just hope he'll still trust us after The First Meeting.”

~*~

Watching Harry over the the past few weeks had been like watching a flower open. At first, he and Remus were extremely cautious to keep their emotions in check around Harry. They took him to Muggle parks and shops, steering clear of Wizarding establishments where they could—they were well aware that sudden attention from a bunch of strangers would completely overwhelm him, not to mention that on Dumbledore's orders, they hadn't told him about his encounter with Voldemort some five years previously.

During these outings, they did not fail to notice how Harry would flinch if another child came running at him on the playground, or how a sudden loud noise would make him jump.

The reactions were so small they were hardly noticeable unless you were looking for them. Sirius was genuinely disturbed by the boy's defence mechanisms for coping with his emotional triggers—there were almost none. The boy had absolutely no way to reassure himself when something happened, and often it seemed as though he would shut down until the upsetting moment had passed. Disassociation, Remus had called it.

It hurt Sirius that a child that young had been exposed to Merlin knows what at the hands of those Muggles, causing him to become so fragile. No matter how bothered he was by this, he was careful to keep his face relaxed and open when he was with Harry. In the evenings, he and Remus would let the masks fall, and they discussed whether it was worth sending an owl to Albus regarding what they had seen. So far, they hadn't.

Every evening, Sirius could hear Harry reading to himself from the same book. It was the same stories over and over, though never loudly enough to disturb anyone. He wanted to confront Harry in some way about it, but he had no idea how to say it without it sounding like he had been spying on the boy. He never vocalized this worry to Remus, but it was apparent that he, too, had not failed to notice Harry's bedtime routine.

Remus left Sirius alone with Harry in the second week, but Sirius was uncertain how to break to the boy Remus's furry little problem. Of course, Harry still thought very much like a Muggle, so there was every chance that he wouldn't believe him. Instead he stretched the truth, and told him that he had gone to visit family, which wasn't a lie, exactly. Harry accepted this excuse without any questions, though when Remus returned a few days later, his robes ragged and looking as though he hadn't slept since his departure. Harry eyed him curiously, but never actually asked either of them about it.

By the beginning of the fourth week, Sirius watched an extraordinary change come over Harry. His smiles came more easily, his laughter did not sound muted, and slowly he relaxed around the pair. Harry's trust that he and Remus would not harm or demean him in any way had started to be a reality for him. He willingly asked for second and third helpings at meals without he or Remus prompting him, he ran and played with Muggle children, and Sirius watched him giggle with delight in the evenings as Remus charmed the fire to take different shapes and colours, from flaming dogs that scampered around him to bright blue birds made entirely of fire.

Despite the drastic change in his godson's behaviour, Sirius struggled to keep his anxiety in check. True to Albus's desire that Harry be shielded from the Wizarding World at large, they kept what they told him to a bare minimum. Hundreds of worst-case scenarios of the celebration, so to speak, with the Malfoys chased each other around in his head. Despite Remus's reassurances, Sirius had a hard time believing that everything would be all right.

The night before the dreaded day, Sirius exchanged a significant look with Remus as they sat down with Harry at the table. “Harry,” Sirius said, his voice coming out a little more hoarsely than he intended. The boy's head snapped up from his dinner, looking at his godfather curiously. “Tomorrow is the—er—meeting with Draco Malfoy. You're going to have to wear wizard robes for the occasion, we'd rather not give Lucius—Mr Malfoy, more reason to kick up a fuss about this.”

Harry glowered at his plate, prodding at the chunks of potato in his stew. “I don't like them, I feel like I'm in a dress.” Sirius saw Remus out of the corner of his eye stifle an amused smile. This wasn't the first time they had tried to get Harry to wear his wizard's robes, but his Muggle upbringing got in the way of realizing that there was nothing inherently feminine about the garments in his wardrobe.

“You can wear your jeans under them, and every one else will be wearing robes as well, it won't be just you.” In an effort to get Harry used to the concept of normal wizardwear, Sirius and Remus had foregone their Muggle-style clothes and wore only robes at home, or whenever they were with Harry. It did help slightly, but they didn't fail to notice that when Harry put them on he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“It's only for a couple of hours, Harry,” Remus said gently. Sirius relaxed a little as he watched the little boy nod, though the dark look never completely faded from his eyes.

The following day, Sirius and Remus donned their best robes and went to rouse Harry. Though he wasn't normally one to complain, it did take an inordinate amount of coaxing to get him to put on the dark green dress robes. He sulked through breakfast, while he and Remus resisted the urge to get him to talk with them. It was best, Sirius thought, to keep the boy from getting even crankier.

At 11 o'clock, the trio took a portkey to a small cluster of trees on the edge of a forest. With Harry between them shuffling his feet a little, his apparent nervousness making him even more quiet than usual, they led him up the street towards the Malfoy Manor. Sirius and Remus glanced at each other more than once, and Remus' reassuring looks did little to calm Sirius's frazzled nerves.

When they turned up the street and the first glimpse of the manor came into view, Sirius heard Harry gasp. Sirius looked down, his mouth twitching in the corners with amusement. Harry's eyes were wide and round behind his recently mended glasses, and his mouth dropped open in shock. He looked up to Remus, then to Sirius, clearly unable to believe his eyes. “They live there?” Harry asked, his tone almost breathless as he tried to work through his shock.

Remus chuckled a little, but Sirius wasn't entirely sure how to answer him. He had a feeling, 'Yes they do Harry, but they're still evil gits,' probably wasn't a good idea. Harry's pace slowed slightly as they approached the gates, and he stumbled a little over the hem of his robes as he was gently nudged up the cobbled path.

The manor had changed very little since the last time Sirius had seen it. The flutterby bushes that had bordered the walkway had been replaced by skullcap, St. John's wort, and hyssop. Sirius also noted the ostentatious animals he remembered were nowhere to be seen. When they had almost reached the door, it swung open to reveal Lucius waiting for them. Immediately Sirius felt a little hand grip his own, and he squeezed Harry's hand back in an attempt to reassure him.

Lucius hadn't changed. His long platinum hair had been tied at the nape of his neck with black cord, and he wore long sweeping robes of black with silver piping. He regarded them with a look of deep disgust that he did not bother attempting to conceal. Sirius noted the way Lucius's cold grey eyes shifted immediately to Harry, and he did not miss the minute flick of his eyes as it raked the boy's hairline, staring intently at the lightning bolt-shaped scar. Under Lucius's cold gaze, Sirius couldn't help but notice Harry's knee-jerk reaction of scuffling back half a step.

“Mr Potter,” Lucius said in a tone that balanced precariously between cool politeness and disdain, “welcome to our home. Please do come in.” The man's eye twitched as though the words had inflicted him physical pain, and he turned and swept inside while Sirius and Remus led a reluctant Harry inside.

Sirius watched Harry out of the corner of his eye, his head whipping back and forth in a flurry of untidy black hair. His mouth was still gaping slightly in shock as he tried to drink everything in. “Come along,” Lucius said in the same tone, “we will be celebrating, as it were, in the garden.” Sirius felt Harry's hand tighten in his own again, and he did not need to look down to see the boy's fear. He all but felt it.

Lucius led the trio through the manor, weaving through halls and rooms, until he reached a large door that looked out on the back garden. There was a large, curved patio of concrete and marble, with white tables piled high with elegant dishes, most of which Sirius couldn't pronounce. A handful of wizards and witches milled around, flutes of champagne or glasses of wine in their hands, with waiters Apparating through the crowd, offering hors d'oeuvres and other small tidbits for the guests. Beyond the patio were long, sweeping lawns of green grass, bordered at the edge by a dense forest.

Despite Sirius's insistence that the number of wizards present remain small, he worried. The First Meeting was supposed to be a public celebration, and given the Malfoys' considerable influence at the Ministry, it could have been much worse. Sirius let go of Harry's hand with some difficulty, it was like a tiny vice grip and knelt next to him. Lucius slipped outside without so much as a backward glance. “Harry, do you remember what we talked about this week?”

He nodded, though stiffly. “I wait here,” he said, though his voice quivered a little. “When I hear my name I come out, and go to Draco. We greet each other, then bow to the guests.” His words left out some of the finer details, but was in essence, correct. Sirius smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, and squeezed his shoulder.

“You'll do fine, don't worry. I'll see you in a moment.” Sirius stood up and walked outside with Remus. They strode out hand in hand to stand next to the Malfoys, while Lucius set off a few gaudy silver and gold fireworks from his wand to call attention to the crowd.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, his gaze shifting from person to person, wearing a small smile as though he had no greater delight than addressing these people. “It is my great honour to welcome you to The First Meeting of our sons.” Scattered polite applause followed these words, “we hope that you will join us in wishing blessings upon their bright future together on this beautiful Mabon afternoon. Now please join me in welcoming my son, Draco Malfoy, and the godson to Sirius Black, Harry Potter.” Sirius tensed a little as he heard a few soft gasps and fervid whispers follow those words. No doubt this would get back to the Prophet before long. He struggled to keep it from distracting him as two doors at either end of the patio opened to reveal the boys.

Sirius felt it was like watching the sun and the moon greet each other. Harry in dark colours, and Draco in some sort of silvery-white robe that seemed to glimmer when the light caught it. Both boys eyed each other nervously, but strode across the patio towards each other with purpose. At the same moment, Harry and Draco lifted their right hand and placed their palms flat over their hearts, and bowed low. The audience watched in rapt silence as the boys let their arms fall, and Draco stepped forward, took Harry's hand and kissed the back of it, Harry mirroring his actions immediately after. They then joined hands and bowed to the assembled guests, then walked down from the patio to polite applause.

The pair stopped before their parents, and Lucius smiled politely, “welcome, Harry.” He bowed, Narcissa following suit.

Sirius mimicked Lucius's feigned politeness, “welcome, Draco.” He bowed, and felt Remus do the same next to him. There was more scattered applause, then the crowd slowly dispersed and the soft babble of conversation filled the silence. Harry was still glancing around with wide-eyed wonder, while Draco was staring at the ground and kicking up grass with the tip of his shoe. The boys had let go of each other's hands, but were still standing in front of the adults as though they had no idea what was supposed to happen next.

“Come along,” Lucius said suddenly, resting a hand on Draco's shoulder, “we'll get you two something to eat and you can get acquainted.” He steered him towards the table, bowing low to speak to his son, quietly enough that Sirius couldn't overhear. The younger Malfoy glowered at his father, but didn't verbally retaliate to whatever he was being told.

Sirius trailed behind Lucius with Harry, struggling to keep his eyes off the guests that milled around him. Remus hung back to speak with Narcissa, though for all his efforts, it was difficult to not notice the sorts of guests Lucius had chosen to invite. Igor Karkaroff standing and speaking animatedly with Ludovic Bagman, Cornelius Fudge accepting a glass of wine from one of the waiters, nameless faces that Sirius recognized as Ministry higher-ups or Death Eaters that had claimed innocence, and, of course, Rita Skeeter standing a little apart from the festivities, her acid green quill zipping across the parchment before her in a blur.

In the distance, partially hidden in the shadows he recognized Severus Snape with a surge of hatred and memory. Slimy git, Sirius thought, gritting his teeth. Below him he heard a soft pained gasp, and he realized that he was gripping Harry's shoulder so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. He let go at once, “sorry Harry,” he murmured apologetically.

Despite the brave face Harry had put on, Sirius could tell that he felt completely out of his depth. Sirius loaded the boy's plate with foods that weren't too exotic, mild cheeses, fruits, and roasted meat. He nudged him towards a small round table to sit with Draco Malfoy, alone.

He and Lucius hung back, keeping a close eye on the boys, while accepting congratulations from the various people that approached them. Sirius took hands and forced his face into a smile, as though he was genuinely pleased by the proceedings. It was supposed to be a celebration, after all.

Finally, Sirius was able to break away from Lucius and he sought out Remus, who had retreated to the edge of the party. His eyes were fixed upon Harry, his expression frozen in a fixed smile. Though it was just as forced as Sirius's had been, it seemed to come more easily to Remus.

“Kill me now,” he muttered as he sidled up to his Bonded, passing a glass of wine to him, which Remus accepted readily, chuckling slightly to Sirius's words.

“Harry looks like he's having a ball,” Remus observed with dry sarcasm, and Sirius turned to look, his mouth twitching in a small smile. It appeared as though neither boy had said two words to each other. Draco punctuating his bites of food with glares at the assembled crowd, with a haughty expression of superiority upon his face. Harry's head was bent forward, poking at his food but not really eating anything. Sirius noticed with a lurch of his stomach that he had curled his feet beneath him on the chair. He hoped that by the end of this Harry wouldn't be too overwhelmed.

Aside from watching Harry like a hawk and accepting felicitations as best he could while trying to not sound dismissive, he was watching Snape closely. The man had hardly moved, his eyes fixed upon Harry, his lip curled in blatant disgust. Sirius clenched his fist, but Remus, apparently sensing danger, reached down and gripped his wrist tightly. “Don't make a scene,” he hissed in Sirius' ear. “This arrangement won't be kept quiet, and the last thing we need is to add fuel to the fire by you hexing Severus in front of an audience.”

It was difficult for Sirius to calm himself. It was bad enough Snape decided to show his greasy face, but the man was staring at the little boy as though he would love to hex him. Sirius felt as though there was something awfully familiar about that expression, though. “He's staring at Harry like—like—”

“Like he's James.”

And of course, Sirius realized with a flood of noisome memory, that was it.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Stag and The Snake