Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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.

Chapter List
- 63
- 64
- 65
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Sixty-Four—Temporary Measures
            The murmur spread around the Great Hall the minute he appeared in the doorway.
            Harry walked with his eyes fixed on the Gryffindor table and nothing else. At least he knew he would have some peace there. Ron and Hermione had promised to hex anyone who even looked as if they were about to talk about Moody, or Dumbledore, or anyone else. Harry sat down in the chair nearest the door, and picked up a piece of bread he buttered for Dash.
            I don’t know if I want bread and butter this morning.
            Harry glanced down at Dash in annoyance. He was wrapped around Harry’s feet, the way he usually had been lately. Why did you wait to tell me that after I went to all the trouble of buttering the bread?
            Dash gave him a little flutter of his clear eyelids, the closest equivalent he had to a blink. Why would the trouble matter? You can still eat it.
            I’m really not hungry.
            That doesn’t matter. You’re going to eat it.
            Harry felt his spine snap straight. He dropped the bread deliberately so that it made a small smack next to his plate from landing on the table with the butter side down.
            So you’ve recovered enough from numb trauma to go on to spiteful tantrums. Excellent. Dash raised his head over the edge of the table, quieting a few third-year girls who had started whispering together as if they would approach Harry, and grabbed the bread in his jaws. He turned it around and offered it to Harry again.
            Harry glared off to the side, making a few Hufflepuffs, whose table happened to be in his line of sight, squeak and pale. Harry tried to change his scowl into something calm and accepting. I don’t want it, Dash.
            Then you are going to eat lots of eggs instead. And orange juice. And pumpkin juice. And the sausages look pretty sustaining, I think.
            Harry glared at Dash. Dash didn’t move, and even with his eyes covered, he had the better glare. Harry turned away with a sulky sigh and lifted some eggs onto his plate with the spoon, then prodded them around until they started to turn into a mess.
            “Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione leaned over to whisper it into his ear. Harry had to smile. She could keep even his mundane business and his arguments with his basilisk from other people.
            “Yes. Fine. It’s just that Dash wants me to eat more, and I’m not really hungry.” Harry looked at Dash again and poured some milk into his glass, just to spite the thoughts about juice.
            From the way Dash’s mind hummed, it didn’t work. And then Dash flipped his neck and the piece of bread in his jaws around, and ate it after all. Harry couldn’t keep from nudging Dash’s body with his boot. Dash curled up around both Harry’s leg and the leg of the bench and was smug at him.
            “Well, you should eat some more.” Hermione hesitated. “Did you want me to tell you what’s been happening with Dumbledore or not?”
            “I can see that he’s not at the Head Table.” Harry took a bite of his eggs and chewed them especially loudly so Dash could hear him.
            I can hear you even if you’re not chewing loudly. All I have to do is use your ears.
            “Well, Professor McGonagall is taking over as Headmistress for now. She’s still teaching our Transfiguration classes, though.” Hermione took a smaller sip of her milk than Harry thought Dash would let him get away with, and then even dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I think she’s going to talk to the Board of Governors today.”
            “What are they going to do about Defense?” Harry didn’t even want to ask, but he felt he had to. Defense was the one class he might really need if he was ever going to face Voldemort again.
            “They have an Auror from the Ministry,” Hermione replied, and gestured with her chin at the Head Table. Harry turned around and stared. The woman was so slender and small that he hadn’t even noticed her—although that was probably partially because she was sitting next to Hagrid.
            “Oh.” Harry studied the woman skeptically. She had long black hair in a braid, and severe black robes, although maybe they were only the ones that all the Hogwarts professors wore and they just looked strange because they were bigger than her. “What’s her name?”
            “Halcyon Regis, I think.” Hermione poked him gently in the side. “And you need to spend more time eating than that, Harry.”
            Yes, you do, said Dash, popping his chin over the edge of the table again. This time, he didn’t look like he was going to help out by eating anything.
            “Why do you need coaxing to take food?” Ron sounded baffled.
            Harry smiled tightly and returned to eating while Hermione scolded Ron in a low voice. It wasn’t Ron’s fault that he didn’t know why his words slammed into Harry, and clung there, smarting and hurting.
            You need to be coaxed to take food because so many people failed you. But now you have people who won’t fail you.
            Harry ate some more without much tasting it. Now and then he looked at Auror Regis, and now and then he looked at Hagrid, who ate like he was stunned. He must have believed in Dumbledore a lot, Harry thought. He could still remember his first year, when Hagrid had sung Dumbledore’s praises while escorting him through Diagon Alley.
            But more to the point, Harry thought it was a little strange that Professor McGonagall wasn’t at breakfast.
*
            Minerva strode into the elaborate room, with busts of all the Founders on the walls, that the Hogwarts Board of Governors met in. Other than the busts—which had cheerful smiles, except, of course, for Slytherin’s—this was a somber room, all heavy dark wood and gilt that didn’t brighten the atmosphere.
            It’s no different than the other times that you had to meet them because you were Deputy Headmistress.
            But Minerva couldn’t reassure herself the way she would an anxious student. She knew it didn’t work that way. She sat down on one side of the table across from Lucius Malfoy and spent a moment studying the papers spread in front of her. They detailed Albus’s crimes and the changes the Board of Governors would be voting for today.
            Many were mundane. They had to approve her as Deputy Headmistress, which was almost guaranteed, and Auror Regis as temporary Defense professor. They had to ask questions about Albus’s crimes, which Minerva thought Lucius would take delight in answering, and there would be the expected horrified murmuring.
            But there were also questions about Harry and Severus that Minerva didn’t look forward to answering.
            “Now then, now then.” That was the provisional Head of the Board for the moment, a heavyset man named Marvin Kingston. He stood up and coughed at everyone over his silver beard. They made less noise settling down than he did coughing, Minerva thought.
            Kingston peered benevolently at people for a minute afterwards, and then turned and faced her. “Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, you know we’re here to vote on your ascending to the post of Headmistress.”
            Minerva took a tense breath and nodded. Of course she hoped they chose her. It was the only thing to do right now. And Deputies had filled in for the Headmaster or Headmistress before when they were ill or away.
            But at the same time, she would have given almost anything for a sane Albus and to be able to go back and teach her Transfiguration classes in peace.
            “Now then,” said Kingston. He seemed fond of the words. “Is there anyone who can present evidence that the Deputy Headmistress is unsuited for the position of Headmistress of Hogwarts?” Lucius gave a little smile as though to say he would personally tear apart anyone who tried.
            Minerva shook her head a little. Lucius Malfoy was an unnerving ally.
            “You have something to say, Deputy Headmistress?”
            “No,” said Minerva honestly. “I was only waiting to see whether anyone else would speak up.”
            Kingston glanced around the table again, as if he assumed everyone else was dying for a chance, but no one said anything. Then Lucius stirred and murmured in a bored voice, “I suppose we can begin the vote, sir?”
            “What?” Kingston jerked himself up from what Minerva thought was only absence of mind rather than deep contemplation, and then coughed. “Of course. Vote now on whether Minerva McGonagall should become Headmistress of Hogwarts.”
            All the hands around the table went up. Minerva swallowed. She supposed that she shouldn’t have been surprised, especially with Lucius finding interesting things to smirk at, but it was still a far more visible show of support than she’d thought she’d garner.
            “And who will your Deputy be, Headmistress?” Kingston asked. “Congratulations,” he added a beat later.
            Minerva acknowledged him with a smile as bright as she could make it. “Professor Aurora Sinistra,” she said firmly. “She is a strong professor who wants the best for the students.” And she wasn’t a Head of House, which meant Minerva wouldn’t be adding unacceptably to her other duties.
            Minerva would have chosen Severus if he didn’t have the Head of Slytherin position and Harry on his hands. She suspected he would need what little free time he would still get simply to keep himself sane.
            “And does anyone object to Headmistress McGonagall’s choice of Professor Sinistra?” Kingston glanced around again, nodding when people shrugged or stayed silent or shook their heads. “All right. Good.” He hesitated, then said, “Changing the agenda of the meeting a bit, I would like to ask you whether it is really a good idea to allow a child to keep a tame basilisk in a school, Headmistress.”
            “As you said,” Minerva murmured, inclining her head, “the basilisk is tame. It would be a different matter if he were wild. But he obeys the orders of Harry Potter, and the only time he has attacked anyone was when they threatened Mr. Potter’s safety. Given Mr. Potter’s likely upcoming role in the war, I suspect we should be grateful to the basilisk instead of upset with him.”
            “Oh, but, er,” said Kingston a bit helplessly, and peered at his reports, “I was given to understand that the basilisk had lunged at Professor Moody long before his deception was revealed?”
            Minerva’s lips twitched, but Lucius was the one who spoke up. “Considering who ‘Moody’ turned out to be,” he said, “I feel that we rather owe the basilisk a debt of gratitude.”
            “Well, perhaps so,” said Kingston slowly. He turned to Minerva. “How confident are you in the boy’s ability to control the basilisk, Headmistress?”
            Not at all. When it comes to any important matters, Dash will do exactly what he wants to.
            But Minerva kept her face calm without any special effort, and only shook her head a little. “Confident enough to have agreed with the previous Headmaster’s decision to allow him in the school, Mr. Kingston. I don’t think trying to ban him now would have any beneficial effects. And there are students who favor him after seeing the way that he helped expose Albus Dumbledore’s serious indiscretions,” she added.
            Kingston gave her a disturbed glance, but finally nodded. “Perhaps so, perhaps so,” he said. “Well, then. We might as well go on to other matters.”
            Minerva hadn’t experienced the sensation of all her muscles relaxing at once since she was a schoolgirl passing a hard exam. Lucius caught her eye and gave her one reassuring glance. He turned casually away a second later, in response to a question from someone else.
            Stop acting so nervous, Minerva ordered herself harshly as she managed to sit up. You are Headmistress now, after all.
*
            “What are you going to do about the Second Task?”
            Harry started and then relaxed. One of the nice things about Draco—and he’d never thought he would say this—was the way that he just sat down at Harry’s table in the library assuming he’d be welcome, without bothering to ask.
            He is good at knowing what you need, said Dash, and propped his chin on Harry’s knee so Harry could reach his plume more easily. Otherwise, I would never have tolerated him approaching as closely as he has.
            Harry wanted to frown at Dash, but that would get him questions that he didn’t really want to answer from Draco, who seemed to think Harry and Dash should never fight. Instead, Harry scratched his plume and said, “Well, I still need to figure out what the golden egg means.”
            “That’s a clue to the Task? To where you need to be? To how you need to win it?”
            “I don’t want to win it. I want to survive it. And I won’t know whether it’s a clue to any of those things until I figure out what it means.”
            Draco leaned back in his chair. “Well, I notice you have it with you. Open it and let’s hear it, then.”
            Harry shot a pointed glance towards the desk where Madam Pince sat, looking out over her domain like a less friendly version of the gargoyle in front of the steps to Dumbledore’s office. Draco promptly rolled his eyes. “Are you going to let her scare you away from something you need to do?”
            “In the library, yeah,” Harry said. He looked at the books he’d been consulting and shook his head. He hadn’t found answers in any of them, either; they didn’t have any index entries for golden eggs, which was the only thing Harry could think to look up. “Come on and let’s go outside.” He lowered the books he’d got into the coils of Dash’s embrace, and he crawled with them back to the shelves.
            Madam Pince nodded to Harry. Since she had got over her initial fears that Dash might crush the books, she seemed to approve of Harry giving them to Dash to transport. Harry supposed it was because he moved more silently than most of the students and didn’t have dirty hands that could smudge the books.
            “You are the luckiest thing,” Draco said, his eyes on Dash.
            “Are you still jealous that you don’t have a basilisk?” Harry asked quietly.
            Draco snapped back to attention and smiled at him. “No, just that I don’t have someone who can take my books back to the shelves and do all sorts of things for me,” he said, and he sounded completely honest. “But let’s go outside before it decides to start snowing again.” He cast the windows of the library a dubious glance and then cast a Warming Charm on himself.
            Harry followed him, ignoring the murmurs and glances of other students. There were still lots of rumors about him and Moody and Dumbledore, but even when Ron and Hermione weren’t around, Dash was pretty glad at fending them off.
            The nice thing about going outside, Harry thought as he cast a few Warming Charms on Dash, who would complain otherwise, is that fewer people are going to follow us there.
            I do not complain.
            Charmingly, Harry told him soothingly as they turned towards the staircase that would take them to the entrance hall. You do it charmingly.
            I do everything charmingly, but that is not the point.
*
            Severus paused when he noticed that one of the small globes he had set up to monitor Harry, a glass one that resembled one of Sybill’s crystal balls more than Severus was comfortable with, had begun to glow red. It meant Harry had passed outside the safety of Hogwarts’s walls. He moved over to look into it at once.
            Severus relaxed when he peered through the glass, though. He could see the great shape of Dash gliding behind Harry and Draco as they walked into the snow. Harry clutched the golden egg he’d earned in the First Task, and Draco was gesturing with one hand, laughing aloud. Harry’s face was turned towards him, and his eyes—
            Harry’s expressions were still sometimes different from what Severus had thought they would be, or distorted by the treatment he had received at the hands of people he should have been able to trust. Severus would not pretend to be an expert in reading them. But this one, Severus did not think he could mistake.
            Harry’s face shone with soft trust, and something like adoration, as he looked at Draco.
            Severus leaned slowly back and nodded. He would not say that he could see Harry on the road to recovery yet, but he was getting there far faster than Severus had supposed he might.
            In a more cheerful frame of mind, Severus returned to his brewing.
*
            “So what was this idea you had about my egg?”
            Draco had to remind himself to blink and glance away a little from Harry’s eyes. They were so compelling when they shone like that, to the extent that Draco would have accused him of casting a Sparkling Glamour on them the way that Pansy sometimes did when she wanted to catch Draco’s attention.
            Except Harry probably didn’t know the first incantation for a Sparkling Glamour, and he wouldn’t see any reason to cast one, either. Draco suspected, with a sinking sensation in his chest, that it was all Harry and all him.
            “Draco?”
            Right, don’t let yourself wander off into distraction, or Harry starts sounding concerned. Draco cleared his throat. “The shrieking sounded familiar the first time I heard it, but I only heard it once. Will you open the egg again?”
            Harry grimaced, but pulled the golden egg out of his satchel, set it in the snow, and opened it. Draco flinched at the sounds that immediately rolled out of it, but he nodded. He was sure that he had been right after all.
            “I think those are voices speaking Mermish,” he said. “Or mermaids’ voices, anyway. They only sound like they’re singing under the water,” he added to Harry’s raised eyebrows, and then drew his wand. “Aguamenti!”
            The charm poured water across the shell; Draco had practiced it for a few days, because he knew he’d have to use it to convince Harry. And sure enough, the shrieks began to turn into words for the few seconds that the water bathed the shell. Draco had to use the charm several times to get the whole thing.
            Draco listened intently to the riddle, because that was what it sounded like, coming from the egg. Now and then his eyes went to Harry. Harry was frowning, but not in the way that would make it look like he was having an argument with Dash.
            “Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching ponder this;
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour, the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.”
            Dash twisted his neck when the riddle was done and hissed something softly. Harry hissed back, and his face had become bleaker.
            “What is it?” Draco asked. He had his own ideas about the riddle, but he wanted to hear what Harry thought first.
            “It seems pretty obvious that I’ll have to dive into water,” Harry said, and his eyes went to the lake. “But if the merfolk are going to steal something from me…it would probably be Dash. And he’s just informed me that he doesn’t intend to let himself be stolen.”
            “Of course not,” said Draco, even as something twisted unpleasantly in his chest. “But why would you worry about that? I know you didn’t want to participate in the Tournament anyway, once you recovered from your little bout of contagious Gryffindorishness.”
            Harry rolled his eyes at him, but continued frowning. “Because Dash might bite the merpeople if they try to kidnap him. I don’t want him to bite them. I don’t want anyone hurt as a result of me or anything I do in this Tournament.” His words were fervent as he reached down and petted Dash.
            “You’re a better person than I am.”
            Draco whispered it, and not because it was a disturbing realization. It was just a strong one, especially when Harry frowned at him as if he couldn’t understand what Draco was on about.
            “But remember,” Draco said, “the merpeople aren’t human. In a lot of ways they’re more sensible than humans. Whatever they’ve been promised for helping the judges in the Tournament, they won’t be grabbing a twelve-foot basilisk.”
            Harry relaxed for a minute, and then tensed up again. Draco shook his head a little. “What’s the matter?” Sometimes he thought Harry had more moods than a storm.
            “If they can’t take Dash, what happens if they take you instead?”
            Draco felt as though the inside of his chest had a balloon inside it, and the balloon was swelling up bigger and bigger. It crowded his lungs and made it hard to breathe, but he wouldn’t have given up that sensation for anything.
            “I won’t let them,” he said. His throat ached, too. He reached out and caught hold of Harry’s hand. “I promise. No matter what incentive they offer me.” If the Tournament had been a real competition for Harry, something he wanted to excel at, Draco would have agreed to let the merfolk take him in a heartbeat, so Harry could win. But this was different.
            “Thank you.”
            Harry’s eyes had that special shine again, the one Draco knew was just for him. And then Harry pulled him forwards, and Draco barely shut his eyes in anticipation of bliss before that bliss was happening, Harry kissing him forcefully on the mouth.
            God, it was hot and making his heart thump and his chest twitch with the excitement and he wanted to shout—
            And then it was over, Harry pulling back a little to look at him uncertainly.
            “Was that okay?”
            Draco smiled. Words would ruin the moment. So would movements as strong as the ones he wanted to make.
            Instead, he pulled Harry gently back, to show him exactly why it was wonderful.
*
SP777: He is, but in a lot of ways, he is still a child.
- 63
- 64
- 65
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Brother to Basilisks