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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 Fifty—Concerns
            “That was amazing, mate!”
            Harry grinned at Ron, leaning back in his chair in the Gryffindor common room. Dash was lying over him like a giant round pillow, his head on one side of the chair and his tail draped around the other. Harry had the feeling that Dash never really wanted him to move again.
            No, I simply wish you to rest before you encounter the more trying questions.
            Harry grimaced. He knew Dash was talking about the fuss Draco and Professor Snape would make. He was sure there wouldn’t be any from Sirius, that he would be perfectly fine with it, but he hadn’t come yet, so Harry couldn’t shelter behind him from the Slytherins.
            You’re thinking of how you can use the smelly dog-man now, not how you can please him. Dash turned and drew a line down Harry’s cheek with his tongue. That is a sign of how you have grown and matured.
            Harry tightened his hold on Dash’s scales for a moment in surprise. Yes, he had thought like that, without even hesitating or asking himself if that was the sort of thing a Gryffindor ought to do.
            “How did you plan that, Harry?”
            Harry eyed Hermione sideways, a little. She was the only one he thought might scold him instead of noisily celebrating his victory, the way that most of his House was doing now (although like most Gryffindor parties, the celebration had drifted away from the original purpose and was now about how many pranks the twins could set off). “Dash told me that dragons were sometimes able to speak Parseltongue and sometimes not. But they could be affected by Translation Charms cast on a human.”
            “That’s interesting!” And he had successfully distracted Hermione, Harry thought. She was sitting up and leaning in. “How did he know that?”
            Because I am a basilisk, and I know everything.
            Harry rolled his eyes a little. Even Dash wasn’t acting as if that was the case anymore—at least, not all the time. “He had seen something in the book I was reading about dragons’ sense of hearing and their tongues. They sort of speak Parseltongue, but their bodies are set up differently from a snake’s, and so they don’t do it exactly the same. But they react to Translation Charms on humans. For example, if a Dragon-Keeper from Romania came to Britain and used a Translation Charm to speak English, then the dragon would recognize the same command words and curse words in his voice. Even though he’d be technically speaking Romanian.”
            Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “That’s very clever, Harry.”
            “Thank you.” Harry braced himself a bit, because he could see the lecture coming after all.
            “Clever? It’s bloody amazing!” Ron ran roughshod over Hermione’s lecture, and reached out to pull Harry out of his chair and swing him around. At least that was probably the plan, but he didn’t manage to do it with Dash draped over him. Harry flopped up halfway and then back against the chair, laughing.
            “Language, Ron!”
            “Well, it is,” Ron snapped back at Hermione, and then turned around and met Harry’s eyes with a melting sincerity that made Harry swallow hard. “Can you forgive me, mate? I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have doubted you the way I did.”
            “Yes, of course,” Harry said happily. He was grateful, when it came down to it, that the argument between him and Ron could be so easily patched up. The other Gryffindors who had acted suspicious of him had already clapped him on the back and toasted him and moved on, but Harry had known it couldn’t be that simple with Ron.
            Hermione shook her head at both of them, but didn’t say anything more for now. Harry went back to stroking Dash and tried to ignore the soft murmur down the bond of, I doubt Draco and your Snape will be so easily satisfied.
            He’s his own Snape.
            Dash said nothing, but he said it in an extremely smug way.
*
            “There’s my Harry!”
            Severus sat slowly down again, his eyes focused on Black. He had not been looking at him before, even as he danced up and down the High Table insisting that all the professors toast Harry. They had avoided each other by mutual accord.
            Even Black must know what I would do if he came towards me and insisted that I congratulate Harry on a tactic so dangerous.
            But that was nothing compared to what Black did when Harry walked into the Great Hall with his friends on either side of him and Dash slithering along the floor behind. Black actually vaulted the high table, paused only to shout out those inane words to all the spectators—including the Headmasters of the other schools and their students—and then rushed over and picked Harry up.
            Severus breathed slowly to calm himself. The spell that blocked Harry’s bond with Dash and made him consider Black before all things had been reduced to small wisps and would fray further over time, Severus knew. That meant this encomium from Black would not have the effect on Harry that it could have. He wouldn’t yield to Black’s entreaties and act like a pure Gryffindor.
            But it was easy to tell himself that, not so easy to feel it.
            “Put me down, Sirius, please,” Severus heard Harry mutter. He was amazed he could hear it through the banging of the goblets on the Gryffindor table and the shouts and cheers, but he did. Perhaps because his ears were so attuned to the nuances of Harry’s voice by now.
            Black did so, but continued to ruffle Harry’s hair in a way that made him look more like James than he had in a year. “You did it, you did it, you did it!” Black kept saying, and then he paused and winked at Harry. “And I know you did it in the most courageous way you possibly could!” He shot a triumphant glance at the Slytherin table. “Not like some other people would have done it.”
            Harry turned bright red. But he just said, “I did what I thought was best.”
            He used Parseltongue, suggested to him by his snake, no doubt, Severus thought viciously in Black’s direction. What about that suggests to you that he belongs to you more than to us?
            “That’s right, but that was the brave thing!” Black hugged Harry again, and then turned around and trotted back to the high table, saying over his shoulder, “I’m proud of you, Harry. I can’t tell you how proud.”
            Harry’s gaze followed Black, and the way his eyes softened wasn’t subtle at all. Severus’s hands closed into claws beneath the tablecloth.
            Then he met Albus’s gaze, and abruptly uncurled his hands and leaned back.
            What does it matter, if they make fools of themselves and act like they’re the ones who hold Harry’s heart in their hands? I know it’s not true. And perhaps the most Slytherin thing of all will be to let them think Harry remains theirs, and spring the surprise of how much he has changed on them when they least expect it.
            Harry and his friends went to the Gryffindor table, and Albus stood up and began to make a speech about the Tasks and the Tournament and the rest that Severus felt entirely capable of ignoring. Instead, he deftly cast a spell under the table that required concentration and focus, but no speech.
            A shimmer formed in the air, similar to the Patronus but neither as visible nor as recognizable. Severus leaned towards it and mumbled, “Harry, come to my office this evening. I will be at liberty.”
            The shimmer vanished for a moment; then Severus saw the trailing edge of it, like the top of a question mark, as it moved over and towards Harry. From the intense expression of interest in his food Harry assumed perhaps ninety seconds after that, the instruction had popped in his ear and recited what it had to say.
            Severus nodded to himself. He did not think Harry enough of a fool to ignore that.
            “What are you staring at, Severus?” Albus’s voice was close and comfortable. “Surely you cannot be pleased that Harry will stay at Hogwarts?”
            “Was his staying at Hogwarts ever in question, Headmaster?” Severus picked up his fork and with it a clump of beans on the end of it, studying it in distaste. The house-elves had never been able to cook any kind of beans to his satisfaction.
            “I think that you hoped the dragon would eat him, my dear boy,” said Albus, and then chuckled. “You know, Severus, that I have never approved of the attitude you take towards the boy.”
            “I thought you rather approved the one I had been showing for the past year, Headmaster,” said Severus. He didn’t yet know where this conversation was going, and he didn’t intend to show his hand until he did.
            “You’ve been acting like he needs protection from something,” said Black, abruptly leaning his head over Albus’s shoulder. “And he doesn’t. Except maybe you, and the ideas you’ve been poisoning him with.” Black’s mouth contorted in an ugly sneer.
            Severus decided promptly that his best tactic was simply to play bland. Black was incapable of following a strategy, so more than likely Albus didn’t have one; his “plan” was simply to throw things at Severus and see what happened.

            “I have been helping him practice in calming his mind and unburdening it,” Severus agreed. “Perhaps he didn’t need that after all. It seems that he is one to grasp his worries by the horns and disarm them that way.”
            Black didn’t seem to know what to do with that, given the way his mouth opened and shut foolishly. Albus, though, reached out and put his hand on Severus’s wrist. Severus leaned back and gave Albus a long, slow look in response.
            “My boy,” Albus whispered, “could you act for one day as if Sirius is not your enemy?”
            Not following the plan, is it? “Certainly. If Black extends me the same courtesy,” said Severus, and mustered the best smile he could in Black’s presence.
            “Stop trying to turn Harry into a Slytherin,” said Black, putting his spoon down so hard that some of his soup splashed towards Minerva, who glared at him. Black didn’t notice, he was so focused on Severus. “Then I might consider it.”
            “I was unaware that I was, or that I could,” said Severus simply, putting his fingers together this time. He didn’t look at Albus. Black was the one he concentrated on, because Black was the one more likely to give clues about Albus’s intentions away. “He was Sorted into Gryffindor. I think this latest stunt with the dragons proves his House in many ways.”
            It proves that he needs to talk to people before he acts, and value someone else’s approval above Black’s.
            But Severus had years of practice at not showing his thoughts on his face. It would take someone with more piercing eyes than Black’s, no matter how furiously he stared at Severus, to divine them.
            “You need to stop talking to him,” Black whispered fiercely. “Meeting with him. Acting like he’s yours.”
            Severus came face-to-face with the absolutely unexpected revelation that talking to Harry could make Black jealous. He didn’t allow his expression to really alter, but he wanted to sneer and laugh at the same time. If Black had taken care of Harry the way he was supposed to, then…
            But as it was, it was a side benefit of something Severus fully intended to keep going anyway. He shook his head slightly. “I am unaware how I was acting as if he was mine,” he said. “Given that he is James Potter’s son, and your godson. And if I am to teach him in Potions, I cannot cease talking to him.”
            Black did some more glaring, but it was evident he had come to the end of his allowance of wits. Severus therefore turned patiently enough towards Albus when he said, “My boy. If we might work this out?”
            Albus turned desperately twinkling eyes back and forth between him and Black. He seemed as if he was trying for something, to provoke some reaction, but Severus had no idea what it might be.
            “It seems to me that it would be simple enough to compromise,” said Albus at last, “if Severus would perhaps acknowledge that he could cease interacting with Harry outside of class, and if Sirius accepted that.”
            “Then I must have someone else supervise all his detentions?” Severus snorted. “I am a professor, Albus. I will do what I must. I am not going to hand the supervision of Potter over to someone else merely to satisfy a Marauder.” He sneered at Black, playing the role they would expect of him.
            Of course, Black played as expected, too, plunging expertly into the heart of the problem. “You bastard!” he said, almost howled, and more than one person at the nearer student tables turned to look at them. “You’re only jealous that I had friends and you didn’t!”
            Severus watched him, and felt no sting from those words as might have been expected. Once he would have, but now his—fairly successful—campaign to cultivate a relationship with Harry was insulating him from the full effects.
            “Now, Sirius, let’s not be hasty,” said Albus, and glanced at Severus again. Severus looked calmly back. He had the feeling something was missing, but he didn’t know what it was. He supposed he would wait and find out. This whole conversation was odd, in that it was hard to discern the outlines of Albus’s plan. “It’s true that Severus needs to spend time with our dear boy when he assigns detentions and the like. Perhaps we can work something out?”
            Predictably, nothing came from the conversation, and Severus left breakfast with a slight sneer. Black had blown up when Albus suggested that Severus could spend “limited amounts of time each week” with Harry, and so Severus had managed not to promise anything.
            But it was interesting, to note that their plan of attack seemed so scattered, and as if Black had not known what Albus was going to do.
            Halfway down the dungeon stairs, Severus realized what was so different, and paused in mid-step.
            Albus had not tried to read his mind.
*
            Draco turned anxiously around when he heard the knock on Professor Snape’s door. The professor had invited Draco to be part of the conversation he’d have with Harry, and Draco had accepted, because Merlin knew when he would get to talk to Harry otherwise. Even some of the people who thought Harry had cheated to get his name in the Goblet seemed to think it was wonderful to have a Hogwarts Champion in the lead. Jostling crowds of students had surrounded Harry all day.
            Dash came into Professor Snape’s office first, and sniffed around with darting tongue as if to make sure that nothing was waiting for them. Draco gave him a stern glance. He’d depended on Dash to talk Harry out of his absurd ideas, but it seemed that Dash encouraged him in them, instead.
            He got a jauntily waving tongue before Dash slithered in further and stretched out near the base of the professor’s desk.
            Harry followed behind, with a little strut to his step. For a second, Draco thought he was probably nervous about what Draco and Professor Snape were going to say, and this was his way of making up for it.
            But that still didn’t give him the right to scare the—the shit out of people, Draco thought, taking satisfaction from the word.
            “I suppose you know what I invited you to talk about?” Professor Snape asked as he stood. His voice was mild. Draco, who had been on the receiving end of that voice more than once before, winced.
            Dash laid his head down and acted like he was going to sleep.
            “You called me to talk about my own self-destructiveness, I assume,” said Harry, and for a moment he acted so poised that Draco actually thought he was going to fend them off. But then he shifted his feet and scowled, and the spell was broken.
            “Why didn’t you tell us what you were going to do?” Professor Snape asked. His voice was low and controlled. Draco shivered a little, but he also moved to the side where he could see Harry better. He wanted to see if their arguments actually had any effect on him.
            “Because you would have tried to stop me.”
            Draco winced again. That was going to make Professor Snape angry.
            And it did, although maybe Harry didn’t notice. Professor Snape narrowed his eyes and turned on one heel so that he could keep watching Harry as he moved around the office, touching the desk and the walls and the stack of cauldrons that Professor Snape kept piled up in the corner for detentions. “Did you think that I would have no interest in stopping a student who was gambling with his life?’
            “No matter what I did, it was going to be dangerous,” Harry snapped, turning around. He looked at Dash for a second. Dash went on pretending to be asleep, though. Draco wondered what he thought of all this. “So I might as well do what I wanted.”
            “That wasn’t the only reason.”
            “No, of course not,” Harry said, and then rolled his eyes at Professor Snape, which wasn’t something Draco would ever have thought of doing. “I wanted to show them I was both a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.”
            “Them. Who?”
            “My friends and Sirius and the other people watching.” Harry folded his arms and tried to glare again, but he seemed a little more nervous this time. Good, Draco thought. Maybe he wouldn’t have to scold, if Professor Snape did the job for him, but he did want Harry to understand how much he had upset them. “I used Parseltongue, but then I did something brave like a Gryffindor.”
            “Foolhardy, like a Gryffindor.” Professor Snape moved a step forwards, prowling around Harry as he just stood there and glared. Draco would have put a hand over his eyes, but he didn’t want to mess anything that was going to happen. “Did it ever once occur to you that you might die doing that?”
            Harry blinked. “Yes? Of course it did.”
            Dash stirred a little, but smoothed himself back to stillness so quickly that Draco wasn’t sure he’d seen that. He knew from the way Professor Snape paused, though, that that answer had taken him by surprise.
            “Then why did you do it?”
            Harry let his arms and his glare drop at the same time. “Because I’ve almost died lots,” he said. “Voldemort could have killed me. I could have died when I was trying to protect the Stone in our first year. Or the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets could have killed me. Or I could have fallen off my broom during a Quidditch game and died. I don’t—this was only one more thing. What’s the matter?” he added suddenly, stepping forwards and reaching out to Professor Snape. “Are you—you’re really upset.”
            Draco didn’t entirely understand the expression that crossed Professor Snape’s face, but he knew that he’d changed his tactics. The professor dropped his own arms and faced Harry with an open, honest frown. “Yes,” he said. “I am. More than simply being wrong or foolish, what you did made me fear that you might not survive.”
            What’s he doing? Fascinated now, because both Professor Snape’s responses and Harry’s were so interesting, Draco held his breath and watched.
*
            Harry felt like someone had opened a trapdoor beneath his feet.
            He isn’t supposed to say that. Snape’s not like this.
            Which meant, of course, that Snape was probably being like this just to manipulate him. But Harry didn’t know what to do about it. Because he didn’t think Snape was lying, either.
            “But--I did,” said Harry. “I mean, if you think that I wasn’t going to that’s one thing. But I did. And through Parseltongue, something that should make most people think of me as more Slytherin.”
            “I did not think it at the time. I did not know it at the time.” Snape was looking at Harry as though he thought he’d be able to compel his belief through eye contact alone. “Even if I had thought it likelier than I did when you were facing a large and dangerous beast capable of killing many adult wizards, there is no guarantee that you will live simply because you have lived through dangerous situations in the past. Do you understand that?”
            No, I don’t. What Harry knew was that Snape was making him feel small and young in a way that he’d thought no adult would ever get to do to him anymore. He didn’t like it.
            This is the way that it is, when you have adults who care about you instead of trying to use you to live out their fantasies of your parents. Dash gave a large and deliberate yawn that Snape didn’t seem to see, since he was still standing there with his eyes on Harry.
            You don’t have to think that I don’t know what adults are like, Harry thought back at Dash in irritation. Dash only yawned again and burrowed his head into the leg of Snape’s desk, though, which gave Harry absolutely no help.
            “Do you understand me?” Snape whispered, drawing Harry’s eyes back to him. “I was concerned about you. I will always be concerned about you.”
            Harry felt as though a huge knot of stupid emotion was building up underneath his throat, and he lashed out the only way he could think of. “You were the one who said I needed to start acting like an adult to show the Selwyns and the other families allied with me that they could trust me! You can’t turn around a minute later and say I shouldn’t act like that.”
            “Adults do not rush headlong into danger,” said Snape softly. His eyes had given a serious warning flash a second ago, but Harry judged he wasn’t going to say anything about it. Even Uncle Vernon could sometimes let things go on a good day. “They make careful, considered decisions about what they are encountering.”
            “And I did the same thing!” Harry was so tired of everyone telling him that he didn’t. “I knew I couldn’t beat the dragon any other way, and you would just try and talk me out of it and not come up with any other solutions if I came and talked to you about it. So I did what I thought was best. It was even what Dash thought was best.”
            Traitor, Harry added bitterly in his mind. Dash was the one who had helped him come up with that plan, and then he lay there and acted like it was just all right that Harry got yelled at.
            You might have needed my help to survive like this in the short term, but in the long term, it’s better for you to have an adult who will care for you and let you trust them.
            Harry gave up in disgust and turned back to Snape. “You couldn’t help me.”
            “There are spells that work on dragons.” Snape stood there and acted like he was trying really hard to keep from flying off the handle, which made less than no sense to Harry. “Such as the Conjunctivitis Curse that young Mr. Krum used. I could certainly have told you of those spells if your research didn’t uncover them.”
            “But professors aren’t allowed to help students in the Tournament like that.”
Snape made a sound that Harry would have called a snort if he didn’t want to live much longer. “I am already helping you outside class much more than I would normally help a student. And you are a fool if you think the other Heads are standing back and not advising Mr. Krum and Miss Delacour.”
            Harry sighed a little. He supposed he could say that, especially since Krum talked all the time about what Karkaroff had told him and what he knew.
            But--he wished he could make Snape and Draco understand why this was the best option. The fact was still that they would have tried to stop him, and he couldn’t have that. He had to go ahead and do it.
            You think that because you have never had loving guardians.
            Shut up, Dash, Harry snapped back, hurt and furious, and spun to look at Snape again. “What was I supposed to do? Not survive?”
            “No,” said Snape, and he didn’t look upset or angry anymore, the way Harry had thought he would. “Come to us.” He gestured, and Harry started. He had known Draco was there, of course, but he had thought he’d moved off somewhere, instead of actually standing as close as he was. “We would have helped you.”
            “I--someone would have said that it was cheating, that it’s not allowed--”
            “And since when do you care about breaking the rules?” Snape’s voice was soft, and he was bending down. “You who changed dozens of rules about what kinds of pets students could have at the school so that you could keep Dash with you? Is your life worth so much less?”
*
            When Harry didn’t immediately have a retort, Severus breathed out slowly. Finally, he thought. He might be starting to understand.
            “You care more about helping me than you do about the rules,” Harry said softly, with a glance to the side that was obviously meant to take in Draco as well.
            Yes. He does understand. Severus nodded slowly. “Both of us do, Harry. Anyone who truly wants to help you does. I think your friends would have helped you if they were on better terms with you over the issue of your name going into the Goblet.” He would have said something about Black, and almost did, but he restrained himself. Splitting Harry’s loyalties for his own satisfaction would be petty, at least at the moment. “Next time, come to me. I do not want to see you in danger again.”
            “Why?”
            About to snap out a retort of his own, Severus stopped when he saw the eyes raised to his own. I think he understands. He just wants to hear me say it.
            “Because I care more about your life than about the rules,” Severus said. “More about your life than I ever expected to, in truth. And so does Draco.” Draco nodded fervently, eyes huge where he locked them on Harry. It gave him an unfortunate resemblance to a house-elf, but Severus did not let that change the tone of his voice. “We both wish to help you more than we wish many other things.”
            Harry looked almost overwhelmed. Severus eased back a little and added, “And part of that is a selfish wish of mine, also. I do not want to feel my heart leaping as it did when you entered that dragon’s mouth. I am more than twice your age. I can do without the sensation.”
            Harry began to grin, slowly and then with more sincerity. He turned around and abruptly hugged Draco, who squawked but nonetheless radiated enough pleasure for Severus to feel it like heat on his skin. Then he turned to Severus.
            Severus nodded and held out his arms.
            Harry buried his face against his chest, hiding from Severus, and Draco, and possibly even his basilisk. But Severus did not mind. This was a huge step. The rest would come in time.
            There was a very soft hiss, most decidedly coming from the snake that rested against his desk, not the boy in his arms.
            But when Severus, thinking it a snicker, darted a thunderous glare at Dash, his eyes were closed and his head blamelessly turned away, and Severus could not be sure if that was what was meant, after all.
*
moon: Thank you!
starr: It’s going to take a while for Dumbledore to suffer any consequences, but Viktor’s alliance with Harry is more immediate.
ChaosLady: Let’s hope that they don’t drag the ground when he walks! Thank you.
SP777: Thanks! At the moment, Draco isn’t concerned with what the other Slytherins think, since some of them have already sworn allegiance to Harry and his father is protecting him.
As for Blaise, he does come back in the next chapter.
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A Brother to Basilisks