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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 Forty-Four—Disapproval
            It wasn’t until Dash slithered into the room without a word and curled up around his feet that Harry began to realize he might have made a mistake.
            It was just…
            His heart was still thrumming with the unfair thing Moody had told him. It wasn’t like Harry had ever gone out of his way to encourage Dumbledore to favor him. He hadn’t realized that Dumbledore would give him and his friends points for trying to protect the Philosopher’s Stone, and Dumbledore had helped him but not favored him when he sent the Sorting Hat and Fawkes to help with Slytherin’s basilisk. Maybe Dumbledore had been grimmer and quieter with Harry in the last year since he got Dash, but—
            He didn’t expect special treatment from the Headmaster. And if Krum and Fleur had to risk their lives because of a magical contract, and they would suffer if it got broken for Harry, then Harry would prevent them from having to suffer through that.
            Right now, they didn’t look especially grateful for any sacrifice Harry might make. Fleur looked at him once, and then away. Krum slowly raised his eyebrows and kept them up.
            When the various Headmasters came into the little room, Krum asked Karkaroff, “The basilisk, he will help Harry, yes? Then the contest is hardly fair.”
            Dash raised his head. Harry looked back at him and said, loudly enough that he hoped everyone could hear him, “I said that I wouldn’t cheat and let Dash help me. And I still won’t.”
            Karkaroff coughed a little. “I do take your word for it, Mr. Potter, but I’m not sure that you’ll be able to enforce that prohibition. Everyone knows how protective basilisks are, for lack of a better word. Is your Dash going to let you keep him out of it?”
            You will. “He will,” Harry said aloud. “I’ve always been able to control him when it’s really important. Like when he wanted to bite people who tried to hurt me for reasons that were mistakes. And he’s listened.”
            Interesting that you describe it as controlling me. Dash twined his head around Harry’s left leg, up to the level of his hip, but didn’t attempt to rise any further. What a word.
            “I have heard rumors, since we have been here,” Fleur began, her eyes narrowed as though she was probing for weaknesses and flaws in Harry’s story about Dash. “That he bit someone who was your professor last year.”
            And how did that rumor get out? Harry kept his face as smooth as he could while his mind worked on that question. “Dash bit him only when he attacked me. It was a sudden thing, and he was out of his mind on a potion at the time. I wouldn’t have been able to convince either one of them to stop.”
            Whatever rumors Fleur had heard, she seemed to accept that. “But will you manage to hold him back when it comes to the Tournament?”
            Yes. “Yes, I will. He knows that I—that I still take human things seriously, even when he doesn’t want to. He knows that I won’t listen to suggestions that would mess up something in the Tournament for everyone else.”
            Why should I be more worried about “messing up” the Tournament than seeing you dead?
            “There is still the question of age.” That was the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, a woman so tall Harry was sure she had giant blood. She sniffed and looked at Dumbledore where he was standing on the other side of the fireplace. “Do you still intend to allow a fourth-year to compete with seventh-years? When you did not allow other students below the seventh year to submit their names?”
            “This is an unprecedented situation,” Dumbledore said in a mild voice. Harry looked over at him and saw that he was smiling, but stroking his beard with one hand in a way that might indicate disapproval or something else. “We do have to have the consent of Mr. Potter’s guardian, though, since he is not capable of legally making the decision for himself.”
            I thought I had to participate anyway, since it was a magical contract?
            But no one was saying anything about that, so Harry thought maybe he was mistaken. Anyway, Dumbledore had conjured a Patronus that fluttered silvery wings. “Sirius, will you come to Hogwarts, please? We need your opinion on a matter regarding Harry.” The silvery creature sped off.
            Oh, yes, how wonderful, Dash said bitterly in the back of Harry’s head. And of course the smelly dog-man is going to concede to your participation. He’ll probably think that it’s a fabulous chance for you to show Gryffindor qualities and get yourself killed. And that will make it harder for me.
            Harry laid his hand on Dash’s neck and stared down at his eyes. He could see the way Dash’s mouth kept opening slightly, to bare his fangs. He knew it was because Dash was angry, but he was afraid it would frighten people if Dash kept it up.
            I have to do this. I have to prove I can stand on my own, and that I’m not going to get out of this because I’m favored by Dumbledore.
            Dash stretched his neck back and back, until he was looking directly at Harry and Harry thought he might even catch a glimpse of yellow eye under his clear, gleaming lids. Who do you have to prove that to? The only important people—your friends and Snape and Draco—know already. What do you care what the students at other schools think of you? After this, they’ll be gone and never visit Hogwarts again. And what do you care what ordinary people say? You survived the story of your abuse getting out and having me. Why is this so important?
            Harry hesitated. He knew that the burning need wasn’t as strong as it had been when he was sitting at the table and Moody had whispered to him. But Dash was in his head. He ought to know the truth from Harry’s thoughts.
            I want you to think about this, Dash said, and lowered his head a little. It doesn’t seem the adults are willing to get you out of this no matter what, so you might be legally bound to compete. But I don’t consider myself bound by the same compulsion.
            Harry swallowed. You won’t bite them?
            I don’t know why you’re so concerned about them. Dash wrapped himself firmly around Harry’s leg and hid his snout against Harry’s calf muscle. You act as if you’re more concerned about them than you are about me. And if they hurt you, they should suffer.
            Harry stroked Dash’s plume until Dash looked up at him again. He didn’t relax the way he usually did when Harry did that, though.
            They’re legally in charge of you, too, Harry reminded him. They would do something to try and separate us if you bit someone else. You know that. I’m really surprised they didn’t make a more serious move to take you away from me after you bit Professor Lupin.
            I know why, Dash snapped back at once. They couldn’t have done something to me without admitting that he was a werewolf. And you see a version of the story got out anyway. He made a small motion with his tail towards Fleur, who jumped, but at least nodded back to Harry when he nodded reassuringly to her. It’s always about other people. Never you and me. And now you seem as if you’re siding with them.
            Dash… Harry felt a little helpless. I don’t know what else to do. I have to have somewhere to live and someone to take care of me. I can’t have that if you go around biting people all the time.
            Dash wound himself into a tighter knot. Harry squinted. He didn’t think it was possible at first, but it seemed to be. Dash had grown another foot since he’d last really considered his size.
            I could take care of you, Dash whispered. I want to leave with you and get away from all this, and only come back when you’re safe and Voldemort is dead. I think of it all the time.
            Harry rested one hand on the back of Dash’s neck and let himself think of it, for that one moment. How calm and peaceful and restful that would be, to be somewhere the war could never come, and with a gigantic snake who listened to him instead of Sirius or Dumbledore or Lupin fumbling their words and looking past him.
            But he sighed. It would mean leaving his friends behind. Snape and Draco wouldn’t understand any better than Ron and Hermione would. He shook his head. I have to stay among humans, Dash. And for the moment, this is part of that.
            Dash tightened his knot, and said nothing. They waited for Sirius to arrive.
*
            Blaise had never needed to know anything more in his life than he needed to know what was going on in that little room off the Great Hall. It would matter a lot to all his plans if he could hear.
            He concentrated and slowly removed his wand from his pocket. Then he realized he didn’t need to act that sly and sneaky. No one was paying attention to him at the moment. They were rumbling angrily about Potter and how he must have cheated his way into the Tournament, and the only thing they wanted to hear was the latest accusation.
            Blaise nodded and cast the Eavesdropping Charm.
            For a moment, the magic seemed to splutter and spark weakly, and Blaise didn’t think it was going to work. Of course, he’d never tried to overhear a conversation from this distance before. He turned his back on the rest of his Housemates and cast the spell again, whispering the words aloud with conviction. Once again, no one seemed to pay attention.
            But sounds began to tease their way to Blaise’s ears from that small room, which Sirius Black had just strode roughly across and disappeared into. The sounds included Potter’s voice. Blaise closed his eyes and settled himself into the conversation.
            “…came as soon as I could, Albus. What is this about a decision you need me to make concerning Harry?”
            Blaise quivered, but kept his eyes closed and his face serene. Ah. They’d called Black to make a decision regarding Potter participating in the Tournament, had they? Blaise thought there must be something here he could use to his advantage, though perhaps he would have to listen longer than he’d thought he would to find it.
            “Harry’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire when it announced the Hogwarts Champion,” said Dumbledore’s frail voice. “Since he’s underage, unlike the other two Champions, we need your permission before he can qualify to enter, Sirius.”
            There was a silence that Blaise smiled at. Even the other people with a right to complain seemed to become aware that they were in the same room with a man who had only been declared innocent of his crimes recently, and before that, had spent twelve years in Azkaban.
            “What did you do, Harry?”
            This was worth listening to, indeed, if only to hear someone punishing Potter in the way Blaise always thought he should have been. He settled down to listen, and ignored the times that someone tried to whisper innuendo or rumor about Potter to him. He had a more fertile source of both echoing in his ears right now.
*
            Harry felt Dash vibrating under his hands, and knew it might be only a matter of time until Dash struck and tried to bite Sirius. That would be bad for everybody, Sirius and Dash and Harry himself and all the people who would start thinking that Dash was a dangerous beast Harry couldn’t control.
            Harry pressed down on Dash’s neck and said, “I didn’t put my name in the Goblet. But Professor Dumbledore said there was a magical contract and I had to compete. Because I’m fourteen, though, you have to say I can.”
            It had been put as bluntly as he could. He could see Moody smiling at him in the corner of the room, and it warmed him the way that Moody’s approval always did.
            He wants you to die. Or at least he wants you to read the secrets from your mind. How do you know it wasn’t him who put your name in the Goblet?
            Harry had to admit that he didn’t know. But right now, facing Sirius down, he was sure he was making the right decision. Sirius saw him as a child all the time, and sometimes Harry thought he only admired the “adult” parts of Harry that reminded him of Harry’s dad. This would at least make him think about other things. James Potter had never competed in the Tri-Wizard Tournament!
            “There are objections to be considered, of course, Sirius,” Dumbledore said. Harry didn’t look at him. Maybe Dumbledore could influence Sirius, but he was more interested in the conflicting feelings that twisted at Sirius’s face. “Harry is three years younger than the other candidates, and says that he didn’t submit his name himself.”
            “Did you?” Sirius dropped to one knee and looked Harry right in the eye. “Please be honest with me, Harry.”
            “I didn’t.”
            Dash had wound himself all the way around Harry’s chest now, climbing his body but with a lot of his tail dangling on the floor. For once, Sirius didn’t seem to notice, even to give the disgusted grimace that was probably his version of fear that Dash would swallow and digest Harry any second.
            “Then why do you want to compete in the Tournament?” Sirius asked, and held his breath.
            He’s hoping that you’ll give the right answer, Dash said, his voice muted. Whatever that is to him. I can tell as much from his scent.
            Harry said, “Because I want to show everyone that I’m not—special. I don’t need to be yanked out of danger. They’d let someone else who’s bound by the magical contract from the Goblet of Fire compete, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t sit back and say, well, it depends on his guardian. They would assume they could do anything they wanted.” He heard his voice shake a little, and he swallowed. The last thing he wanted to do was present a weak impression of a crying child. “Well, I want to show that I can obey the rules, too.”
            A small smile crept across Sirius’s lips. “Even though someone broke the rules to enter you?”
            “It’s going to be bad either way,” Harry told him. “What people will say, I mean. If I’m yanked, they’ll talk about favoritism and how precious sheltered Harry Potter is too special to compete in the Tournament. If I compete, they’ll talk about how I got away with breaking the rules.” He would have turned his hands into fists, but Dash nosed at them and made him uncurl his fingers. “I would rather—show that I can at least take the risks along with everyone else.”
            Sirius studied him gravely. Harry had no idea what he was looking for, and just studied him right back.
            Abruptly Sirius grabbed him in a hug, the first time he’d ever done that when Dash was wrapped around him. Unfortunately, Harry didn’t think Sirius was hugging him like that because he’d lost his fear of Dash. Instead, it seemed to be because he had just forgotten Dash was there.
            “I knew you were a real Gryffindor,” Sirius whispered. “You’re so courageous, and I’m so proud of you.” He pulled back and turned to Dumbledore. “He can compete, Albus.”
            Dumbledore said some words that Harry supposed were the right ones. He couldn’t really hear them. His ears were buzzing too hard.
            I finally did something right. Sirius loves me, after all.
            Dash tightened until it felt like he was going to cut off all the blood circulating around Harry’s leg, but didn’t say anything. Harry gently touched his head and rubbed it, then concentrated on what Sirius and Dumbledore were talking about. Ways to reduce his risks, evidently, without letting Dash help him cheat.
            I don’t care about you winning, Dash said suddenly. I care about you surviving this. That means I’m going to interfere if I see you in danger.
            Harry said nothing. He suspected they were going to have arguments about that, and also that this wasn’t the place to have it. The Headmasters hadn’t even really explained things like how the Tasks would work to them yet. He would wait to talk to Dash until they knew more.
            I don’t need to know more.
            Sometimes, Harry thought back to him, exasperated, you are such a basilisk.
            Dash radiated smug agreement that made Harry struggle to bite the mental equivalent of his tongue, and they waited in silence until Dumbledore started speaking to the room at large.
*
            “You promise me that you didn’t enter your name in that Goblet on purpose?”
            Harry started and turned around. He evidently hadn’t heard Draco come up behind him in the library. Of course, that might have been because he was arguing with Dash. Draco had learned how to read that focused glare on Dash’s head and the way that Dash didn’t flick out his tongue and move his body from side to side, things he did constantly otherwise.
            “Of course I didn’t,” Harry said. “How could I get past the Age Line? No one’s explained that much to me even when they have conspiracy theories for everything else.”
            Draco sat down in the chair beside him and stared at him. Harry looked tired. “Some people were saying that since Dash is bonded to you, the Age Line might have counted his age along with yours.”
            Harry rolled his eyes. “A whole year. He’s a whole year old.” He turned to glare at Dash again, and Draco grinned, certain that he had just turned that into ammunition against Dash. “That would only make the Age Line count me as fifteen even if it were true. How do they explain that one?”
            Draco shrugged. He didn’t really want to admit that there were people running around who thought Harry had defeated and shrunken Slytherin’s basilisk instead of killing it, and that Dash was it. That would meant he’d also have to admit that he’d listened to them babble their insane theories in the first place.
            “But then why do you want to stay in the Tournament?” Draco wanted to know the answer to that question, since Harry kept turning his head away when people asked it.
            Harry’s mouth set in a stubborn line. “Moody told me that I would look like a coward if I backed out, and also if Dumbledore favored me. And those things are true.”
            Draco leaned slowly closer, giving Harry time to become nervous and realize what was wrong with what he’d said. But Harry sat there stubbornly looking him in the eye, and in the end, Draco had to whisper his conclusion. “Harry, that’s what we call not bloody true.” At least Harry looked startled at the swear word. “And remember, you’re as much Slytherin as Gryffindor. Why do you need to prove yourself?”
            Harry looked off to the side. “They would have to break the magical contract anyway, which I’m not sure can be done,” he whispered. “And it finally made—”
            He closed his mouth. Draco went on staring at him. It was a tactic that he had sometimes seen his father use on their family’s enemies, the kind that could be invited to dinner but not given the best wine. He knew that not everyone succumbed to it.
            Harry did, though. After a little more wriggling in his chair, he finally burst out, “Sirius told me he was proud of me, okay? That’s the first time he’s ever said that and really meant it. He loves me now. I’m sure of it.”
            Draco shook his head. “It shouldn’t depend on you being in the Tournament or not being in the Tournament. He should just like you anyway.”
            Harry gave him a fierce glare. “Well, he hasn’t. And I want to stay in it, Draco. I would disappoint too many people by backing away now.”
            Dash gave an abrupt hiss and then fell silent. But Draco thought he knew what that was about. “Not Dash though, right?”
            Harry seemed to intend to stay quiet this time. Draco sighed and said, “Listen, Harry. I believe you didn’t put your name in.” He’d been intensely jealous at first, and people had asked him whether he’d thought Harry did it because more of the Slytherins knew they were close now, but one look into Harry’s eyes had told him that wasn’t true. “But I think you should have tried to get out. Either go back and tell Black and Dumbledore that you changed your mind, or tell them you shouldn’t be in it because someone else submitted your name.”
            Harry’s eyes were strangely empty. “I want to be in it, Draco.”
            Draco slammed a hand down on top of a book Harry had lying there, and which he thought Harry was using for his Herbology essay. “Well, no one else wants you to be! Except Black, and who cares about him? We’re just trying to keep you safe!”
            Harry stood up and stared at him. Then he said, in a voice so snake-like Draco almost thought he was speaking with a Parseltongue accent, “Why does everyone say that and then act like it’s an acceptable excuse? I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t put my name in the Goblet! I didn’t want to be the Hogwarts Champion! I didn’t cheat!”
            “I know you didn’t. I just said that.” Draco stood up to glare back. “But you’re getting angry when we’re just trying to make sure you don’t bloody die in this Tournament, and—”
            “Listen,” Harry snapped. “I’m kind of a Slytherin, but I’m a Gryffindor, too. And it’s been hell at home with Sirius not really accepting me. You want to lecture someone about this, go lecture him!”
            “I know that,” Draco said, feeling a little sick. This wasn’t going the way he’d imagined at all. “But if they won’t let you use Dash—”
            “Oh, I see,” Harry said, and he gave Draco a smile Draco didn’t like. “So it’s not really about thinking I cheated or thinking it’s dangerous. You just think I don’t have the skill to survive the Tournament.”
            “Harry—you’re not a seventh-year—”
            A moment later, Draco realized it was one of the worst things he possibly could have said. The shine vanished from Harry’s eyes, and he looked at Draco the way he would probably look at a stranger. Then he said, in a falsely bright voice, “Excuse me, I have to go now,” and walked away, not even waiting for Dash. Dash had to slither after him along the floor.
            “Harry!” Draco rushed after him, but Harry didn’t turn around, and angrily shrugged off his hand when Draco tried to touch his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it in any bad way! I just think you’re being stupid.”
            “I should be used to being called that, I suppose.” Harry still didn’t turn around. “It’s one of the things the Dursleys always used to call me.”
            “Harry!” Draco jerked to a stop, and then he shook his head and ran even harder, because damn it, Harry wasn’t going to make an important decision like this just because Draco had a little trouble getting his feet to move. “I think you’re acting stupid. That’s not the same thing as thinking you are stupid.”
            “Really?” Harry looked at him once over his shoulder. “It seems like a pretty meaningless distinction to me.”
            I’m losing him. And worse, Draco could feel his own anger rising now, because it seemed so obvious to him that Harry was doing exactly what the person who had put his name in the Goblet of Fire wanted him to do. No real Slytherin would have gone along with a plan like this. It would have been more important to them to stay safe and refuse to do what their enemy desired.
            Ah, but he’s not a real Slytherin, is he? He begged the Hat to put him somewhere else, anywhere else.
            Draco finally managed to dodge enough that he was standing in front of Harry instead of running along behind. “You’re going to bloody well listen to me,” he told those empty eyes. “I’m concerned about you. I want you to survive. I think that your reasons for staying in the Tournament are shallow and stupid. Who cares what Black thinks?”
            “I do.”
            Draco felt as though the words had crept into his head and cut the careful hold on his temper. He reached out and shoved Harry hard enough to nearly make him fall over. He probably would have if Dash wasn’t behind him and providing a living wall of scales that held him up. Dash didn’t even attack Draco for pushing Harry, just watched him intently.
            “Fine!” Draco yelled. Somewhere back in the library, Madam Pince was telling them to hush. Draco ignored her, feeling his chest throb and bound. He had to turn it into anger or it would turn into tears, he knew. “Go ahead and sacrifice yourself if you like! Die to make Black proud! Don’t say anything to me again, though, until you’re ready to apologize, because you’re acting like an idiot, and I hope you know it!”
            He turned away and ran towards the Slytherin common room, and although he knew it was too much to hope for, he still listened, hoping he would hear Harry telling him to come back.
            He didn’t hear anything.
            By the time he reached his bed, the tears were flowing anyway, but they were tears of fury as much as fear, and Draco thought he managed to pull the curtains shut before anyone saw him whose seeing would be bad. Then he cast some Silencing Charms, buried his head in his pillow, and screamed as loudly as he could.
            Why is he being such an idiot?
*
starr: Dash and Harry are going to have many bitter battles about the Tasks.
moodysavage: Yes. Even if Moody didn’t pick up on Harry’s most-guarded secrets, he picked up on his really conflicted feelings about Sirius, Dumbledore, and being both a Gryffindor and a Slytherin in some ways.
moon: Thank you!
ChaosLady: Thanks muchly!
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A Brother to Basilisks