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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 Eighty-Three—The Third Task

            “I have made you as safe as I can.”

            Harry touched the silver shield that hung on a chain around his neck. Professor Snape had spelled the chain Unbreakable, and made sure that Harry understood the necessity of keeping it on him. The shield was a twin to the one that Professor Snape had made in his ritual, and absorbed.

            Harry didn’t think he understood all the nuances of the ritual, but he understood Professor Snape had done it to protect him.

            From the soft look Professor Snape gave him, he might not need to understand more than that.

            “When the Third Task is done,” Professor Snape said briskly, “then you are going to move into my quarters, and stay there for the rest of the year.”

            Harry blinked. Professor Snape hadn’t acted like anyone in Gryffindor Tower was untrustworthy before this. “Why? Do you think Voldemort will try something after the Task?”

            “I think you may not win, and your Housemates might be disappointed about that.” Snape shook his head when Harry started to say something in defense of ordinary Gryffindors like Seamus and Dean, who believed by now that he hadn’t entered the Tournament of his own free will. “I want to protect you from any disappointment right now, any unhappiness. We’ll go straight from school to my own home. After you’ve had a free summer, then maybe I’ll feel all right seeing you walk into battle again. But not until then.”

            Harry slowly nodded. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the idea of someone with that fanatical a desire to protect him, but, well, he also didn’t think Snape was lying.

            You can’t wrap your mind around it? And here I thought I’d done my best to make sure you understood the concept. If my lessons failed, then I suppose I’ll have to increase the strength and frequency of them.

            Dash had been dozing, wrapped around the legs of Harry’s chair while Snape talked to him, but now he unwound himself and started to flow into Harry’s lap. Harry put out a hasty hand to hold him back. “You don’t need to—I mean, I understand fine, Dash. You don’t need to worry about it.”

            But I think I do. If you think it’s strange that someone would love you and want to defend you—

            “What is wrong?” Snape asked, though with the kind of glint in his eyes that said he wouldn’t interfere if it was what he called “a private basilisk matter.” Having your guardian and your bondmate gang up on you both at once was something that Harry was coming to find painfully familiar.

            “I just thought that you’re doing a lot for me, and Dash says I should be used to that, because he would do anything for me,” Harry said, and leaned down to push one sneaky rising coil off his lap. “I said no, Dash. If you really want to do anything for me, you’ll get back on the floor.”

            It’s cold. I want to sit in your lap. And it’ll help me keep you in one place for another earnest explanation.

            Harry pushed again, but Dash insisted, and Harry rolled his eyes at Snape as he ended up with more snake in his lap than on the floor. “You can see the way that he wants to handle this, sir.”

            “It is true that I’m doing a lot for you,” said Snape, and Harry blinked a little. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it. The ritual I performed could not have been created without intense emotion, focused on you.” He reached out and slowly splayed a hand over the scar on Harry’s forehead, which made Harry jerk a little in surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched it, other than maybe Dumbledore. “And you know what that emotion is.”

            Harry glanced away. He knew, just like Snape did, but he didn’t want to risk the embarrassment of saying the name aloud, any more than Snape did.

            Seemingly satisfied that they understood each other, Snape nodded and dropped his hand. “I have a Pepper-Up Potion to take,” he said. “If I am to be as recovered from the ritual as I should be by this evening, when the next Task begins, I need help. And in the meantime, you two can discuss the private basilisk matter.”

            Harry sighed a little as he watched Snape walk away. He’d thought that conversation might spare him from the one he’d have to have with Dash, but it seemed not.

            Why are you so reluctant to talk with me, Harry? I might think that you don’t love me anymore.

            It’s not that, Harry said, and leaned his back on the chair, closing his eyes. It’s only that some of your ideas frighten me, Dash. I know you don’t want me fighting in the war, but I want to stay here and protect my friends. Not flee Britain and hide somewhere else. What would Ron and Hermione do?

            Be protected by their own families. Or fight if they wanted to. I don’t think anyone could keep your Hermione out of the battles.

            Harry shuddered a little. But they could be in danger just for knowing me.

            And that’s going to happen whether you’re here or not. It’s not like Voldemort would miraculously forget about them because you fled.

            Even you admit it would be fleeing.

            Of course it would. Dash wound himself in an intricate knot that tied Harry to the chair, the way he sometimes did when Harry was in the bed in the hospital wing. But the difference between us is that you think it would be—dishonorable is probably the best word. Not one that translates well into Parseltongue.

            Why?

            Honor is for mammals.

            You know that’s not what I’m asking.

            Dash was silent for long moments, his thoughts stirring like currents of storms in Harry’s mind. Harry caressed his neck and waited. He couldn’t keep secrets from Dash for long, but he was learning the reverse was also true. Dash might lie sometimes, as much as he could, but he didn’t want to keep things hidden.

            I want you safe, said Dash. And not because I will die when you do, or because I want to enjoy the centuries of life that might be left to me if you stay safe. I want to find a way for you to enjoy those centuries, too. Because you’re alive. You’re you. When you’re gone, there will never be another you. The war is trying to kill you. Voldemort is trying to kill you. I want you safe.

            Harry let out a shaky breath and stroked Dash’s neck again. He was glad Snape had stepped away to take his potion. Private mind-bond or not, Harry knew he would never be able to keep the knowledge of what he was saying and feeling out of his face.

            Thank you. I understand better now.

            Dash stirred just enough to move his blunt nose up to Harry’s collarbone. But you still won’t do what I want you to do, and leave this stupid war behind.

            There’s one thing that’s more important to me than even my life. My freedom of choice. Harry ducked his head so that he was looking at the pattern of scales under Dash’s chin instead of his quivering, closed eyelids. Dumbledore tried to take that away, and so did the Dursleys, and so did Voldemort. Even Sirius, sort of, when he kept the Horcrux secret from me. So please don’t take away that freedom, Dash. I want to make my own decisions. And if one of them is to stay here and fight in the war, then that’s what I want to do.

            Dash was shivering and tense, thinking about it, for long minutes. Harry had no idea what he would decide. He felt he could only pet Dash’s neck and hold on.

            Finally Dash said, I won’t make you leave against your will.

            Harry sighed at the condition he could feel waiting behind those words, and replied, If I ever change my mind about leaving, then I’ll tell you.

            Dash laughed softly down the bond even as he untangled himself from Harry’s chair and flowed towards the door. I’ll feel it when you do. You won’t have to tell me. We’ll be going to the Sahara as soon as you do.

            Why the Sahara? Harry had to ask, thinking he was missing something.

            Dash turned his head and flicked his tongue out. Because there are fewer people there who can get killed when I open my eyes. And I can sunbathe whenever I want. And see danger coming.

            He left before Harry could say anything else. Of course, he could have reached along the bond whenever he wanted and asked Dash anything he wanted. But both of them respected things like the confines of doors and rooms, unless they were in danger.

            Harry sighed and leaned against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. He had to compete in the Third Task. But then he’d be free of the Tournament, and maybe he and Dash could concentrate on facing his basilisk’s fears. And everyone could concentrate on keeping him safe and getting his connection to Voldemort closed down.

            Just one more Task.

*

            “They don’t want to make it fair, Hermione. That’s why they’re going to send the Champions in at different times. The one who earns the most points goes first, and then the one who earns the second most points…”

            Draco ignored the explanation Weasley was giving Granger for the fourth time—she seemed to think that the Triwizard Tournament should suddenly start being equitable in the last moment—and stared at the maze. It was bigger than he’d thought it would be, and the hedges looked alive. When he squinted, Draco could make out what he was sure were shadows squirming slowly among their leaves.

            He didn’t want Harry going in to face those alone.

            But he would have to. The judges would just refuse to let him enter if he tried to take Dash with him, and Draco knew Harry wanted this farce of a Task over with as soon as possible.

            Dash was up on the stands with them, coiled partially on the ground and partially around Draco’s feet as he watched the maze himself. It was a measure of how comfortable Weasley and Granger had become with Dash that they ignored him almost entirely. But Draco couldn’t. He bent down near Dash and watched his tongue flickering out again and again, and whispered, “You’ll tell me if he isn’t all right?”

            Dash nodded. Draco leaned back, comforted that Dash had bothered to learn human gestures.

            Once he’d thought basilisks were beyond that, so magnificent that they didn’t deign to notice anyone but their chosen human, or maybe a Parselmouth who could command them. Draco hadn’t been clear on the difference between humans bonded to basilisks and random Parselmouths then.

            Now, he knew he couldn’t have bonded with a basilisk even if he got hold of Parseltongue somehow, unless the basilisk chose to accept him.

            I still wish I could have one, Draco thought wistfully, as he scratched at the ridge behind Dash’s eye and tried to take his mind off the things Harry was probably facing in the maze. But this is the next best thing.

*

            Harry shuddered as he limped past the Acromantula. Maybe it should have been obvious that he’d be facing one after the sphinx’s riddle, but he didn’t understand the way the judges’ minds worked when they put the maze together.

            He looked around hopefully. He didn’t care about winning, but if he was close enough to the Cup, then he might as well grab it. He didn’t think Krum or Delacour had made it this far, or he would have heard wild cheering by now.

            I just want this all to end!

            A few more corners, and then Harry saw the Cup gleaming ahead of him. It was so bright a gold that it hurt his eyes. Harry hesitated in the last turning of the maze, glancing around suspiciously. There was probably one more vicious beast waiting to leap out at him here. Draco, Snape, and Hermione wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t at least pause and look around.

            But no matter how long he looked, he saw nothing. The Cup continued to shimmer. If it had a trap around it, Harry finally decided, he wouldn’t see what it was by looking.

            He cast a few detection charms and moved closer. Still nothing. The ground did sometimes shine with the reflection of the light on the Cup, but Harry thought that was probably natural—or as natural as the reflection of magic could be.

            Krum and Delacour didn’t come out, either. If they were hiding there, they had no reason not to at least cast spells at him.

            Harry finally took a deep breath and trotted forwards, reaching out to grasp the handle of the Cup.

            Then he heard footsteps behind him, and spun around in surprise. Delacour came tearing out of a maze corridor opposite the one Harry had come from, and sailed towards him, her silver hair swirling around her. Her eyes were fixed on the Cup. If not for her wand flicking up to cast a curse at him, Harry would almost have thought she hadn’t noticed him.

            But Harry wasn’t going to stand still for the curse, and he didn’t care that much about the stupid Cup anyway. He rolled and dodged aside. Delacour reached out for the Cup.

            Her hand slammed against something a few centimeters away from it. Delacour splayed out her hands and stared. She was panting, covered with shallow scratches and dripping guts that made Harry think she’d battled her own Acromantula. She banged her hands against the invisible wall, then turned around and stared at him.

            “Did you put this here?” she demanded, her accent so thick Harry had to concentrate to understand her words. “It was you, yes?”

            “No!” Harry looked warily at her wand. He knew a lot of spells, but without Dash here to defend him, he didn’t feel as brave as he should. And he knew, too, that all his friends would want him to avoid putting himself in danger if he didn’t have to.

            “It must have been you.” Delacour shifted to the side, but she didn’t lift her wand at him, maybe because of the vow he’d sworn to keep her and the other Veela safe from Dash. She looked crazy, though, with her hair whipping around her head. “There is no one else who would want you to win that much.”

            “Maybe Sirius,” Harry muttered, but he didn’t think Sirius would have had a chance to enchant the Triwizard Cup. He moved hesitantly forwards and stretched his hand out. He didn’t feel the barrier Delacour had been talking about.

            “Don’t touch it!”

            Of course she wouldn’t want him to touch it, not if she wanted to win, but Harry’s fingers had already brushed the handle. He turned around to tell her he didn’t care, and she could have the damn thing if she wanted—

            And then the world coiled all around him, turned different colors, and yanked him away.

*

            Dash reared suddenly above the stands, so far and fast that Draco flinched and cried out, ducking his head.

            “What is it? What’s the matter?” Draco shouted at him, trying to attract his attention and make him stop frightening people. Not that Draco thought Dash would listen to him if Harry was really in danger—which it certainly sounded like.

            Dash shot out of the stands and towards the maze, a long, uncoiling ribbon of darkness. Not knowing what else to do, Draco ran after him.

            He could hear someone calling him to stop, too, but it sounded like Professor Snape. Deciding he would understand even if Draco got injured, and probably run after them himself, Draco kept sprinting.

            Dash led him around a corner and then down a corridor blocked by a half-destroyed skrewt. Draco stared at it in disgust. Dash looped over the body and kept going. Draco had to add a Lightening Charm to his own body so he could leap.

            An Acromantula abruptly scurried out of the maze’s walls and confronted them.

            Draco stopped, dread pounding through him. And then he saw Dash lift his head, and the yellow glow around his eyes grew brighter.

            He’s opening them!

            Draco immediately turned his head to the side and squeezed his own eyes shut as tightly as he could. He heard a strange, wobbly cry that might have been a spider’s scream, and then by the time he looked again, Dash was flowing on and the Acromantula’s body lay absolutely still to the side of the path. It no longer looked as big.

            Draco still crept past it, shuddering, and with the stray thought that he hoped Weasley didn’t waste too much time gawking if he was following them. Then he kept running.

            Dash was entering a wide space, past yet another Acromantula’s body, that had some kind of pedestal in the middle of it. Draco blinked. That was a place to keep a Cup, he thought, and looked around, expecting to see someone else there already.

            Delacour stood with her back against a tunnel on the far edge of the clearing, her eyes so wide that it looked like they would fly out of her head. Her shaking hand clutched the wand she pointed at Dash.

            Draco rolled his eyes at her and marched over. “Honestly, Delacour,” he snapped at her in a low voice. Dash was wreathing himself around the pedestal, and lifting his head to let his tongue snap out. “Does it look as though Dash is interested in you right now? He only wants to find his bondmate. Did you see what happened?”

            Delacour turned stunning eyes on him. Draco flinched as he felt the urge to bow down and worship her. Her magic was on high alert, trying to diminish threats by making sure everyone in sight adored her.

            But Draco shook his head, because he was sure Harry wouldn’t be happy if he did that, and asked more insistently, “Did you see what happened to Harry?”

            Delacour sucked in breath and spoke with a softness that Draco had never heard from her. “He touched the Cup. I tried to touch it first. There was a—a barrier, I could not pierce it. And when he touched it, he vanished.”

            Draco spun around. His mouth was sour with fear, and he ran straight over to the pedestal, ignoring the way Delacour tried to warn him about Dash. Draco was more sure than he was of his own name that Dash wouldn’t hurt him.

            Dash had leaned his head on top of the pedestal. Draco said to him, “Delacour said something that makes me sure the Cup was a Portkey.”

            Dash turned his head, and Draco shivered. Despite being sure that Dash wouldn’t hurt him, it was still unnerving to be so close to those immense eyes. And he wasn’t entirely sure that Dash could understand English without Harry around to translate for him.

            “She described not being able to touch it,” Draco said hastily, trying all the while to come up with gestures that could somehow translate the concept for Dash, “and then when Harry could, he vanished.”

            Dash lowered his head and crawled again around the pedestal. From the way his tongue flickered, Draco was sure that Dash was trying and failing to pick up any trace of a scent that would have told him where Harry went.

            At last, Dash turned and slid out of the maze again. Draco followed him, ignoring the sounds that he thought meant Delacour was following as well. He just hoped that Dash had closed his eyes again. That was one thing that they really didn’t need right now.

            Once they were outside the maze, Dash didn’t turn towards the stands again, the way Draco had thought he would. Instead, he promptly slid off towards the right, his tongue still lashing. Then he began to move faster and still faster, to the point that Draco knew he couldn’t catch up.

            “What are you doing?” Draco yelled after him, adding his voice to the chorus of shouts that was still coming from people afraid of an enraged basilisk.

            “He is seeking out the bond to find Harry.”

            Draco started and turned to face Professor Snape. His face was as pale as birch wood, and he was using his wand to cast a spell in front of himself that left tingling purple traces in the air. Draco was sure that Professor Snape couldn’t find a trace of Harry, either.

            “But Harry got taken by a Portkey. The Cup was a Portkey. That means he could be anywhere by now.”

            “Nonetheless. A Parselmouth’s bond could feel strained by distance, but would still be present.” Professor Snape reached out and grasped Draco’s arm with fingers he flinched from, then turned and nodded to Weasley and Granger, who had run up on his opposite side. “There is a way I can follow Harry, but we will need access to the ritual space I prepared to do it. Come.”

            At least Granger didn’t have any arguments to make as they ran after Professor Snape towards Hogwarts, Draco thought. It was the only upside he could see to the whole situation.

            And the whole time, his gut churned in a way that kept him from enjoying that upside. He didn’t know if he was more worried for Dash, Harry…or the people who might have kidnapped Harry, when Dash found them.

*

            Harry landed with such a large bump that it stunned the breath out of his lungs. He rolled over and stood up, shaking his head a little. He appeared to be in an open space, and he drew his wand immediately. The Cup was rolling on the ground next to him. Harry backed up until his leg touched it, hoping that it might be enchanted to take him back, but it remained still and silent.

            A Portkey, then. But where did it bring me?

Harry stared around. He was standing in the middle of a huge cavern, or at least he thought it was one; the walls were dark stone and arched in a way that reminded him of Hogwarts’s Great Hall. But there was no sign of carvings here, or anything tame. Instead, the rock jutted out, and there were sharp edges that Harry flinched just from looking at.

“Hello, Harry.”

Harry whipped around, ready to see Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters that he and Draco and Ron and Hermione had found pictures of as they searched through old books and papers looking for information about Horcruxes. He was even ready to see Voldemort’s snake, or a manifestation like the grey-cloaked one that Voldemort had sent him through dreams.

But he wasn’t ready to see the man who stepped forwards, clad in shimmering silver robes that almost matched the color of his beard, and gave him a regretful smile.

            “Hello, Harry,” Dumbledore repeated.

*
            SP777: Dash does indeed want to find some way to lengthen Harry’s life. He’s just more worried about other things right now.
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A Brother to Basilisks