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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
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Forty—The Flash
            “Potter, stay after class.”
            Moody’s voice was gruff. Then again, thought Harry as he got up, adjusted Dash around his shoulders, and walked to the front of the room, it was always gruff.
            Sometimes Moody seemed to like Harry and would praise him for his spells; sometimes he ignored him for an entire class except to mock him for not getting his dueling posture exactly right. Harry wondered what Moody had to say to him today. Harry didn’t think his work had been that unusual.
            Except in comparison to the other students, none of whom could do it for more than a second? Dash tickled Harry’s ear in a way that always made him jump. I’m proud of you.
            You weren’t in my mind, helping me, were you? Harry asked a little suspiciously. Despite the fact that he and Dash had what was essentially a familiar bond, it wasn’t always easy for him to tell when Dash was influencing his magic.
            No. I wanted to see what would happen if you had to face it on your own.
            Harry lifted his head a little at that, proudly. He thought he’d done well, and he knew Dash wouldn’t have been praising him if he didn’t think it, too.
            He came to a halt in front of Moody’s desk, and the man folded his fingers and looked at him. Harry tried to keep his eyes away from the dead spider next to Moody’s hand. He wanted to go and ask about Neville, who had gone so pale when he’d seen the Cruciatus Curse used. But he had to do this first.
            “Professor?” Harry finally asked, when a full minute had passed and he’d started to think he wasn’t going to get the chance to talk to Neville. Not only that, he might be late to Transfiguration, and McGonagall was back to treating Harry pretty much like any other Gryffindor.
            “Who taught you to resist the Imperius Curse?” Moody fired the questions the way Dudley used to fire stones. Moody always did that. Harry wondered why he blamed the students in the class for missing the questions or getting upset at them, when he did it that way. “What did it feel like? How many tries did it take for you to resist it when you practiced?”
            “I never even heard of the Imperius Curse until today,” Harry snapped back. Moody was acting like Snape when he used to be unfair in Potions and accuse Harry of cheating. “I didn’t practice with it, and nobody taught me! And it felt like somebody else’s voice telling me that I had to do something. But I didn’t want to listen. So I didn’t.”
            Moody raised his eyebrows. “That’s not the way most people describe their experience of the Imperius Curse, Potter,” he said, and he was almost accusing. “Didn’t you feel a pleasant sensation? It may have been like floating,” he added, while both of his eyes rolled back in his head. The magical one was a little more disturbing, though.
            Harry hesitated, then shrugged. “There was a feeling like that at the beginning, Professor.” It hadn’t lasted long, though. Harry was always aware of where he was and the nasty voice urging him to do something.
            And the solid rock of his bond with Dash was there at the back of his mind, too, giving him a place to stand on and push against. But he didn’t think he’d mention that. Moody was already upset that Dash was in the classroom and seemed to think Dash would attack if somebody cursed Harry in a duel.
            Even though that already happened and Dash didn’t do anything, Harry thought, rebellious.
            “It’s impossible for you to resist it without trying,” said Moody, and he almost barked the words, more like a dog than anyone Harry knew except Sirius. He drew his wand, then paused. “Unless…”
            “I did try to resist it,” Harry said, his cautious eyes on Moody’s wand. But he wasn’t very afraid. For one thing, he was close enough to Moody that Dash could uncoil in a snap and take the wand away if he had to. “Professor?”
            “I mean, first try,” said Moody, and now he seemed calmer. He stepped around the desk and looked at Harry from so close that Harry had to tilt his head back. “Have you ever seen a Veela, boy?”
            “No,” said Harry slowly. He thought Lupin had mentioned them last year in Defense Against the Dark Arts, though. “They’re—sort of like bird-women, aren’t they, sir? Or they can turn into birds.”
            “Sort of.” Moody looked amused again. “They’re also very good at charming people, mostly boys, to fall in love with them. If you’d seen one and been able to resist her charm, then I could know for sure whether you’d also resist the Imperius Curse out of natural talent.”
            Harry shrugged. “My friend Ron said there were some Veela at the Quidditch World Cup, but I didn’t go to that.” Neither had Ron, although he had read all the details in the papers and recited them over and over again until Dash had complained that he was dreaming about Quidditch.
            Moody tapped his wand against his arm. “There has to be some way to test you,” he muttered, staring into Harry’s eyes so hard hairs prickled up and down Harry’s arms. “Some way…”
            “What does it matter, sir?” Harry shook his head. “It’s a good thing I can resist the Imperius Curse, right? And if I ever meet a Veela, it’s probably good that I won’t start drooling about her, either.” Ron had said some people at the World Cup had done that, and even tried to fling themselves out of their seats to meet the Veela. Harry cringed at the thought of making a fool of himself like that.
            Oh, I would bite you and send you to sleep before I let you do that, said Dash cheerfully.
            Harry shook his head and looked up at Moody again. And that was when he thought he felt it. There was a fast, sharp flicker at what felt like the inner corner of his eyes. Harry squirmed and lifted a hand to rub them.
            That was Legilimency, said Dash, confirming Harry’s guess. He started to unwind himself deliberately from around Harry’s legs and arms.
            Harry tried to clutch at him and rub his eyes at the same time, and ended up tripping and falling to the floor. He heard Moody exclaim something that could have been a curse, and then he reached out a heavy hand, as Harry saw when he managed to blink and get his eyes open all the way.
            “Didn’t mean to make you fall, boy,” Moody said. “You all right?”
            You can’t bite him, Harry said to Dash. Dash had paused in his unwinding, maybe because Harry wasn’t hurt or Moody hadn’t tried Legilimency again, and at least seemed to be listening. I won’t let you. I’ll—I’ll sever our bond if you do that.
            Dash gave a hiss that only Harry probably knew was a hiss of agony, from the way Moody jumped back and stared warily at him. But he coiled close to Harry again, and rested his head right under Harry’s chin. Nothing is worth losing you, he whispered, his voice drumming down the corridors of Harry’s mind. Nothing.
            I didn’t really mean what I said, about severing the bond, Harry told him, and stroked his head. Sorry. I just really didn’t want you to bite him.
            Dash said nothing, but he also didn’t let go and retreat somewhere to sulk, which was how Harry knew he was probably forgiven.
            He licked his lips and turned to Moody. “Sorry, professor,” he said, and he knew he sounded a little shaky. “Dash just didn’t—didn’t understand what was going on.”
            “That’s the way we’re going to phrase it, is it?” Moody sounded as though he was being thoughtful, maybe about to launch another attack on Harry. But when Harry looked up, Moody, although he was watching Harry closely, didn’t look ready to draw his wand. “All right, boy. Go on your way. You’ll be late.”
            I already thought that, Harry wanted to protest, but he knew there was little point in arguing with a professor like this. He turned and hurried out, winding his way through the corridors in search of Neville.
            But it seemed everyone else had already gone on their way to Transfiguration, and Harry sneaked in just as the door was about to close. McGonagall gave him a stern frown, but didn’t start scolding. She never did unless someone had actually done something wrong. She went up to the front of the room and started showing them how they were going to change a wooden shoe into a leather one.
            More useful than some of the strange things you have learned in this class.
            Harry wanted to shout out loud with joy that Dash was talking to him again, but since they were in the middle of class, he didn’t. He just stroked Dash hard with one hand and muttered, Are you okay?
            Yes. I am thinking about what you said.
            Harry waited, but Dash didn’t elaborate on that, and Harry knew he probably wouldn’t get to hear more about it, not right now. He hid his sigh and turned to focus on the shoe in front of him. He thought about how nice it would be to have shoes of his own that he could make, that Sirius didn’t have to buy for him or have opinions about him spending money on, and then he waved his wand as fiercely as he could and spoke the incantation.
            The shoe didn’t turn all the way from wood, but now the toe was leather and there was mottling on the side that looked sort of like the mottling on Dash’s scales. McGonagall, passing by, paused, then gave a nod and said, “Concentration does wonders for your skill, Potter.”
            “Yes, professor,” Harry said, knowing it was as close to an open reference to his “crimes” as McGonagall was going to come, and sat respectfully still until she passed on to another student. Then he stroked Dash’s back.
            A second later, Dash’s tongue tickled his hand.
            Harry relaxed completely for what felt like the first time all morning, and wondered how soon he could get to Snape to tell him that Moody had tried to use Legilimency on him.
*
            Draco had a secret. Or, at least, knowledge that he suspected Harry wouldn’t want him to have, and neither would Professor Moody.
            But he hesitated over what to do with the knowledge. He could confront Harry about it. He could try talking to Professor Snape, who he thought would at least be interested in news about Harry but might frown on the method by which he’d obtained it.
            Or he could owl to his father.
            Draco had nodded as he thought about it. He had gone to catch Harry as he was coming out of Defense, and then heard the low-voiced conversation between Harry and Professor Moody, and stood outside the door in helpless enthrallment while he listened. Harry would probably overlook that, but Draco didn’t think Moody would.
            Moody was…Draco wouldn’t say he was unfriendly, but he did have the impression that Moody didn’t like Slytherins. He listened to them with this air that was uncomfortable to Draco, and never paid as much attention to their answers as he did to the other Houses’. And he took off points from Slytherin in a flash.
            Maybe that wasn’t strange when Moody was an Auror, but Draco had received a letter from his father a fortnight ago saying that Moody didn’t tend to favor any one House. He’d made sure no one he worked with on a regular basis actually knew which House he belonged to. So it would have been out of character for him to attack Slytherin in case someone decided he’d belonged to Gryffindor.
            Until now, Draco thought, his feet pounding up the steps to the Owlery, he’d held back from writing to his father. A stray impression here and there wasn’t worth a letter. But this was.
            And his father would let him know what he should do. Talk to Professor Snape? Encourage Harry to stand up to Moody more? Moody hadn’t been able to make Harry get rid of Dash. So Harry might be able to get away with more than other people because of Dash and his fame.
            Draco came out into the Owlery, looking around for a regular owl, since his own was with his parents. And then he stopped and stared when he saw Harry there, tying on something to Hedwig’s leg.
            “Harry?”
            Dash, coiled on the floor, had only lifted his head and examined Draco sleepily before curling up again, but he must not have told Harry Draco was there. Harry leaped and cursed in a way that made Draco’s eyes widen in respect. He wondered if Harry had learned that from Black.
            “Oh, Draco. Hi.” Harry sighed a little, and finished tying on the parchment. “Take that to Professor Snape, girl,” he told Hedwig.
            The snowy owl glanced at Draco, tweaked Harry’s hair, and sailed out the window. Draco shook his head and went to coax a regular barn owl down to his hand.
            “Why do you have to write to him? You’ll see him tomorrow in class, and I know that he might want to meet privately with you before then.”
            “No time for a private meeting today,” Harry said. He held out his arm, and Dash coiled up it and around his body. If Harry scolded him for not letting Harry know Draco was there, Draco certainly couldn’t hear it. “Hermione has a study session organized that would be difficult for me to slip away from. And I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
            “Is it about Professor Moody, then?” Draco thought he made his voice very suave and uninterested as he sent the letter out the window.
            But Harry turned around with a stricken look, and Draco winced. He’d never had a friend who he had to be so careful with. Blaise could give as good as he got, and Vince and Greg just didn’t understand if Draco was making fun of them most of the time.
            “I was eavesdropping outside,” Draco said, hoping that the casual way he spoke would make Harry feel better. He certainly hadn’t meant to embarrass Harry or keep him from trusting Draco. It would be awful if he started feeling that way, and the mere thought made Draco tense up.
            “How did you even know I was still there?” Harry’s cheeks were as bright as some of the owls’ eyes, but he sounded calmer. He started walking towards the door from the Owlery, and Draco followed him. “And why didn’t Dash tell me you were there?”
            “Ask him that,” said Draco. He hadn’t thought to wonder about that, but now that he thought about it, maybe Dash had kept quite because he and Harry were having an argument. “Maybe he was too busy to start sniffing for intruders.”
            Harry probably did ask Dash, from the way he turned his head, but probably didn’t end up getting a satisfactory answer, because he only sighed and turned back around. “Well. It—doesn’t matter. Better you than a lot of people who could have heard that.”
            “What made you fall to the floor?” Draco had been able to hear Moody say that, but not able to see around the edge of the door.
            Harry clenched his fists and kept walking without answering. Draco only waited. He wasn’t Harry’s friend for nothing, and he knew Harry didn’t really want to keep secrets or hide things most of the time. He only did it because he was embarrassed or wanted to keep people safe.
            And he can’t be embarrassed if it’s because of something Moody did. Moody’s a lot older and more experienced than he is.
            “I don’t know if I should tell you,” Harry finally muttered.
            Draco rolled his eyes and started to say something about people who let embarrassment control their actions, but Harry went on, “Snape said I wasn’t to let anyone know, and there’s no way I could explain recognizing this otherwise.”
            “Recognizing what?” Draco almost wanted to hop from foot to foot in frustration. He would have if he hadn’t been a Malfoy, he thought, and therefore skilled at recognizing what someone wanted him to do and doing the opposite. He made himself take a breath and release it slowly, and went on, “Come on, Harry. You can trust me. Right? I haven’t done anything to make you think that you can’t trust me.”
            He stopped there, because his voice was beginning to sound whiny and he didn’t want it to. Harry turned to the side and surveyed him, then nodded.
            “I believe you wouldn’t betray me,” he said. “On purpose. But you need to keep your eyes away from Dumbledore and Moody, okay? Because they can practice it, too. Don’t look directly at them.”
            Draco stopped walking in shock this time. “Are you talking about Legilimency?”
            “See there? You didn’t need me to tell you. You figured it out on your own.” Harry smiled, but he looked worried, the lines of skin around his eyes tighter than Draco had ever seen them. He looked off to the side and touched Dash’s neck again, shaking his head, maybe at something Dash had said.
            “Professor Snape is teaching you Legilimency?” It made sense now that Harry had said he wasn’t supposed to be able to recognize it. But then something else caught up with Draco’s wonder, and made him even more indignant than the fact that Moody must have tried to read Harry’s mind. “You didn’t tell me!”
            Harry glanced at him. “Well, Snape said I wasn’t supposed to.”
            Draco managed to calm down, mostly by telling himself they were passing through areas of the school where someone else might overhear him and get upset now. “Well, you should have. I want to learn it, too.”
            Harry shrugged a little, which made Dash drop down to the floor and flow ahead of them. They probably had had an argument, Draco thought as he watched Dash go. He was a little surprised about how worried that made him.
            “He isn’t really teaching me Legilimency, anyway,” said Harry. “He’s teaching me Occlumency. He’s more worried about someone reading my mind than he is about me being able to read other people’s.”
            “You’re still lucky,” said Draco. And he thought Harry was, a lucky thing who hadn’t done enough to share his good fortune around. “You could have invited me to the lessons when they started.”
            “Without asking Professor Snape?”
            Harry sounded so scandalized that Draco had to smile. “Now you’re talking like he’s your Head of House,” he teased, turning backwards so he could see Harry clearly as he walked down the stairs.
            “Well, he could have been.” Harry was looking off to the side in that uncomfortable way that meant he didn’t want to discuss it anymore. “Let it go, Draco,” he added, when Draco was opening his mouth to say something else. “Come on. We’ve got to get down before all of dinner was gone.” He paused and studied Draco. “What were you writing to your father about, anyway?”
            “Overhearing the conversation and wondering what I should do about Moody.”
            Harry blinked at him. “Why would you need to do anything about him? For that matter, why would your father?”
            “If he’s mistreating someone we’ve allied with,” Draco explained patiently, wondering why Harry didn’t already understand this, “then we have to do something. And the same thing with the Selwyns. They would have to do something, too. Regular professor-student interaction is one thing, but it sounds like Moody was trying to go beyond that.”
            Harry shook his head like something was stinging him. “But Professor Snape probably reads people’s minds a lot. I mean, I can’t imagine that he never does it. And he probably used it in the past when I didn’t know he was doing it to figure out I was lying.”
            “That’s different,” said Draco.
            “Why?”
            Draco found himself adrift in a sea he’d never expected to have to cross. He said, “Because it is. I mean, Professor Snape has been a professor for a long time, and for the most despised House in the school. He had to use Legilimency sometimes to protect people.”
            Harry snorted a little. “And to figure out where I was wandering during the night?”
            “Until last year, you might have been trying to get Slytherins in trouble!”
            Harry shook his head once. “I don’t want to tell anyone else about this, Draco. Professor Snape has to know, and I suppose your father has to, now that you’ve sent off the letter,” Harry added, with pretty bad grace. “But no one else does. Right?”
            About to argue, Draco found himself on the other side of an unexpectedly powerful glare. He finally sighed and closed his mouth. “Yes,” he said, when he thought Harry would let him speak. “All right. I just worry about you, you know.”
            Harry’s face softened. “And I value that, Draco. But I don’t think Moody is going to do anything else to hurt me. He has to know I’m on my guard.” He looked up the corridor, and frowned suddenly. “And I’d better make sure that I can find Dash before Dumbledore starts getting upset because he’s not with me.”
            He hurried off before Draco could ask if he’d thought about why Moody had wanted to hurt him in the first place.
*
            “What’s the matter, sir? You look upset.”
            Severus glanced up. This would, of course, be the moment when Harry came in for their lesson. And he couldn’t even blame Harry for that, because it was the time he had told Harry to show up.
            “I’m not upset with you,” said Severus. It was the thing he had to say most often, or Harry would make the inference himself and become sullen and withdrawn. “I am…disappointed as a result of the meeting I had with Dumbledore. I went to him and told him that I hadn’t known Moody was a Legilimens, and that I hoped he would have informed me.”
            “Oh.” Harry sat down on the chair he usually took with Dash at his feet, although every few seconds the basilisk’s tongue darted out as if scenting for prey. “And what did he say?”
            “That it wasn’t in the nature of my position to be informed about every new professor’s talents,” said Severus. “And that he was pleased to note I had been quick to see that Professor Moody might be competition for me, and what it said about my work ethic.”
            “Oh.”
            Severus thought back over the conversation he’d had with Albus again, frowning. Of course he had expected an unsatisfying conclusion, with him and Albus as divided on the issue of Harry and Black as they were, but this had been more than that. Albus had seemed concerned until Severus had divulged which professor was reading students’ minds. Then he’d laughed and said that yes, dear Alastor was a Legilimens, but he hadn’t known Severus would regret not being informed of that.
            Then he’d made a few light-hearted remarks about Gryffindors and Slytherins of the type Severus believed he was always thinking, but which he rarely expressed aloud, and sent Severus on his way.
            It didn’t satisfy Severus at all. But until he could name why, he would remain unsatisfied. And it wasn’t as though he had political allies, like Harry did, or even allies inside the school he could bounce conclusions off. McGonagall was rather too admiring of Alastor for being a “good” professor, and Severus was close to no one else on the staff.
            It came as a sudden shock to realize that he might need to change that, and not for his sake. He looked at Harry.
            “Professor?”
            “We are going to have another sort of lesson than Occlumency today,” Severus said. “Or in addition.” If Moody could read minds and was unscrupulous enough to try, then Severus would strengthen and quicken Harry’s Occlumency training. “It’s time that you understood more about politics.”
*
starr: Well, this time Snape has been caught flat-footed. But he is going to investigate Moody more carefully in the future.
SP777: I’m fine watching all kinds of documentaries. The only snakes I prefer to handle are small, non-venomous ones, though.
And more of one than he thought, given Draco’s explanation in this chapter.
Solay: Thank you for the enthusiastic response! As for why Snape doesn’t like the plot to recruit more defenders for Harry, he doesn’t think it should be done under false pretenses, or it will all end in tears.
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A Brother to Basilisks