Chapter Thirty-One of 'A Brother to Basilisks'- Conversations On the Brink of Summer

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Thirty.

Title: A Brother to Basilisks (31/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Eventual Harry/Draco and Ron/Hermione
Warnings: Angst, violence, some gore, AU from Prisoner of Azkaban onwards
Rating: R
Summary: AU of PoA. Harry wakes in the night to a voice calling him from somewhere in the castle-and when he follows it, everything changes. Updated every Friday.
Author’s Notes: This is a canon-divergent AU that starts after Chapter 7 of Prisoner of Azkaban. It will probably run to at least the mid-point of The Half-Blood Prince. It will also be long.

Chapter One.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Thirty-One-Conversations on the Brink of Summer

“You have to write to me every day so I know you’re going to be all right,” said Hermione, and leaned forwards and hugged Harry again. Apparently she thought the seventy times she’d already done it weren’t enough.

Harry smiled tiredly at her. He was feeling exhausted from his meeting with Lupin and Snape yesterday, and even more from what had happened with Sirius. He wanted to collapse on his bed and sleep for a week.

But they never allow you to do what you want, do they? Dash coiled himself thoughtfully around Harry’s neck. Sometimes I wonder if I should not threaten to bite them as well. It might be the only way to make them see reason.

Shut up, you’re only saying that because I didn’t let you bite Lupin or Sirius, Harry snapped back at him, and nodded to Hermione. “I’ll do that. Do you want an owl every day, too, Ron?” he added, because Ron was standing behind Hermione and rolling his eyes a little.

Caught out, Ron flushed and said, “Just one every week will be enough, mate.” He lowered his voice a little, although no one else was in the common room right now. They were upstairs, frantically packing for the Hogwarts Express. “That way, you get to write me longer letters with more details about what Sirius is doing.”

“You have to write me long letters, too!” Hermione immediately objected, her face turning a little red.

Harry smiled at her, amused. “Every day?”

That made Hermione fumble a little, and Dash and Ron both chuckled, although Hermione could luckily only hear one. She glared at Ron, then said, “Do whatever you want to do, Harry. But write to me, and be safe.”

Harry put one hand on Dash’s coil. “He won’t let me be anything but that.”

Hermione hesitated, nodded, then hugged him one more time. Ron settled for clapping him on the shoulder and muttering something about best friends and how Harry could always tell him everything that was bothering him. Harry nodded and sat down again in a chair near the common room fire while Ron and Hermione both disappeared up the stairs, Ron to pack and Hermione to make sure she had all the books she wanted to take with her.

Harry felt…almost empty. It was going to be a better summer than he’d ever had before, within reach of the castle and without Dursleys, but it was also going to be strange and not the one he’d hoped he could have had when he first got to know Sirius. Perhaps he’d been silly to wish for anything that good, though.

You deserve anything good the world can offer. Dash sounded as angry as a hornet. I wish you would stop feeling otherwise. He twined himself firmly around Harry’s neck and tightened there like a noose until Harry tapped him on the nose to get him to stop. I wish you would start feeling like I do, that nothing anyone can do is enough for you.

Harry snorted. That sounds like a good way to end up permanently dissatisfied.

Dash probably would have answered, but someone tapped on the portrait of the common room then. The Fat Lady immediately began to speak. “Just because you don’t know the password is no reason to knock on me, young man!”

Harry stood up and went to open the portrait from the inside, curious. The Fat Lady swung open, but she was still talking about disrespect and all the rest of it.

Draco stood there, his arms folded and his nose in the air, probably because of the Fat Lady’s rant. It took a long moment for him to put it down and consider Harry. “Is she always this rude?” he asked, gesturing at the Fat Lady.

That set her off again. Harry didn’t think it worthwhile to listen to her, so he didn’t. “Draco, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I came to say good-bye, of course.” Draco leaned forwards and stared him in the eye. “I heard something about what happened earlier. Apparently a portrait saw you banish Black back to his rooms. It was all they could talk about.”

Harry flushed. “And so now everyone in the school is going to be talking about it?” he muttered.

Draco shrugged. “I doubt it. There are portraits that gossip to students and ones that don’t. This one only told me as much as it did because they owed a debt to the Malfoy family when they were alive.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You have your own private portrait spy? Who is it?”

Draco looked smug, and didn’t answer.

Harry rolled his eyes, because that was exactly like Draco, but before he could say anything else, Draco was focusing on him as if he was the guilty one. “You were going to leave without telling me about this?”

“I would have written to you about it.” Harry felt Dash loop down his leg, and ignored him for the moment. He could be exploring or doing something else, but he wasn’t talking about attacking people, which made it an improvement over the rest of today. “I just-I needed time to think about it. It was overwhelming.”

“Why did you do it?” Draco seemed perfectly willing to stop scolding Harry as long as he got to discuss it with him.

“Because he was threatening Snape,” said Harry. “Snape was just trying to help me with my scar, and Sirius decided he was taking me down to the dungeons to hurt me.” Harry sighed. He seemed to still feel the burst of power and magic that had built up inside him, and how it had lashed out at Sirius. “It’s not something I want to do again.”

“You did it in a place where it’s supposed to be impossible,” Draco said. “Sending someone Apparating, I mean. Not that forced Apparition is very common in the first place. Most people hold someone by their arm and pull them along if they want them to come on the journey.” He folded his arms and looked Harry thoughtfully up and down. “I know you want to say you’re not all that powerful, that you’re a Parselmouth and bonded to Dash by accident…”

“Well, I didn’t know what was going to happen!”

I resent the implication that you would not have come into the Chamber of Secrets if you had known.

Harry rolled his eyes. You’re wonderful, Dash, and you know I think you are, because you’re inside my head. Stop fishing for compliments.

Dash apparently had to fall silent to think about that one for a moment, while Draco continued. “But you have to be more powerful than you thought, if you did that.”

Harry rubbed his forehead. His scar wasn’t itching or bleeding or hurting right now, but it was still more prominent than usual, and different than touching bare skin. He dropped his hand when he noticed Draco staring at him with a bit of awe. “What does it matter? If I have some more magical power than I thought, I mean?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Draco lowered his voice and glanced around ostentatiously again. “There are some people who already think you might be the reincarnation of Salazar Slytherin. This is going to add fuel to the fire.”

Harry waved one hand hard. He wondered if he could properly show his disgust of the whole idea if he didn’t. Draco was laughing at him, and so was Dash. Harry knew how Ron must have felt, now. “Draco. Don’t.”

Draco paused and looked at him. “What?”

“You said one portrait told you this and I didn’t have to worry about it spreading gossip around.” Harry found his eyes and cheeks were stinging, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hang onto his calmness. “But you’re talking like the news is going to get around. Who are you going to tell?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco said softly, and Harry felt a hand on his arm, shaking it roughly. He opened his eyes, hastily blinking away the tears so that he wouldn’t look even more ridiculous, and found Draco frowning at him. “I only intended to tell my father, who already knows things about you that he isn’t going to tell anyone else. And he can change the story or disguise it when he tells other people, so that no one has to know exactly what Black did.”

“Or what I did,” Harry said firmly.

Draco blinked. “Why would you want to disguise that?”

Harry looked straight at Draco, but Draco only went on looking back, now and then blinking. He really doesn’t understand, Harry realized, a little numbly. He would tell everyone if it was him, probably just so that he could get some notice for being strong and famous.

I don’t understand, either, Dash said peacefully. Being known as powerful might reduce the number of people who try to attack you in the future. But we have already established that I am only an ignorant basilisk, since you insist on returning to the house of the smelly dog-man.

Harry didn’t bother responding. He only shook his head at Draco and said, “I don’t want people to be afraid of me. Some people are always going to be afraid of me because I’m a Parselmouth and I have Dash,” he added, when he saw Draco’s mouth opening, because he knew exactly what Draco was going to say. “But I don’t want other things to get around. I don’t want them to be afraid of my accidental magic.”

Draco looked at him long and hard enough that Harry really didn’t have any idea of what he would decide. He found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

*

It doesn’t make any sense. He could have allies who aren’t Black or even Professor Snape. He could get well-known for something that isn’t being the Boy-Who-Lived. He might get some respect from people who would otherwise oppose him on principle. Why does he want to hide this?

From the steely gleam in Harry’s eyes, though, he wasn’t going to back down, and he really didn’t want Draco to tell his father. It was probably one of those Gryffindor-Slytherin differences that Draco wouldn’t ever understand.

Draco squinted a little and said slowly, “I can keep it secret from my father, at least for a while. But that doesn’t mean I can keep the portrait or Professor Snape from telling him, if they decide to.”

“I know,” said Harry, and looked enormously relieved, his eyes shining in a way that made Draco’s stomach squeeze. “But if you can keep it secret for a while, that’s fine.”

“So you’ll let me tell him eventually?” Draco pounced on that. He would get in trouble if his father found out that Draco had known and didn’t tell him, but this might be a way that would let him get out of trouble again.

“Yes,” said Harry. “If you have to, if he asks you, you can.”

Draco nodded. “Good,” he drawled. “Then I can ask for something in return.”

“What?”

Draco smirked at the outraged expression on Harry’s face. But it was only slightly outraged. Harry had to have known this was coming. Dash also hadn’t lunged and tried to bite his face off the way he probably would if he thought Draco was a true threat to Harry, so that was something. “I want you to practice for me.”

“Practice what? It’s not like I can stop using Parseltongue anyway, not with Dash around.” Harry stroked the back of Dash’s neck and avoided Draco’s eyes for a second, seeming embarrassed.

“Not that,” said Draco. “Practice focusing your accidental magic on objects. I wouldn’t ask you to hurt a person,” he added, when Harry turned accusing eyes on him. “I’m not a monster, remember?”

Harry flushed and looked at the floor. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Draco waved his hand. They were both struggling to figure out the limits of friendship between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. “But I want to know what you can do when you’re not angry at a person. Can you use your anger and your frustration at other times? How strong are you, really? That’s the sort of thing I want to know. If we’re going to share it as a secret, I’d like to know exactly what magnitude of secret I’m helping you hide.”

“My friends know, too.”

“And so do Professor Snape, and the portrait, and Black,” said Draco, with a nod. “But do you really think that any of them are going to encourage you to practice this the way I am? The way you might need to?”

Harry shut his eyes. Dash was watching him now, and Draco had the impression of another intense, silent conversation from which he was closed out. He had almost ceased to resent it. He stood and waited, knowing he would learn certain things from what Harry said after the conversation, and how he reacted.

Finally Harry opened his eyes and said with extreme reluctance, “Dash thinks it’s a good idea.”

“You have approval from me and your friendly neighborhood basilisk,” said Draco, winning another small smile from Harry. “What more do you need?”

Harry traced one small scale in the rippling wash of paler green to darker green on Dash’s neck, his head bowed and his eyes locked on the scale. “I just don’t want to use it on people,” he whispered. “Dash thinks I might need it to defend myself. I don’t want to fling people into walls, or even blow them up the way I did my aunt.”

Draco stared at him. It seemed to him that it was a little too late to worry if Harry had already made someone explode. But there were a few other things that phrase could mean.

And he wouldn’t get anywhere right now if he tried to make Harry talk about it. “Well, ease your mind, then. I don’t want you to practice it on people, because that would make it too obvious what you were doing. I want you to do it so you’ll know how strong you are.”

“Lots of things matter more than magical strength,” said Harry.

Draco met him stare for unimpressed stare, and Harry was the one who half-nodded and muttered, “But I suppose it would be good to know.”

“It would,” said Draco. “It would be excellent to know.” He softened a second later, reaching out and putting one hand on Harry’s arm. He didn’t really want to, because it was hard for him to understand some of Harry’s objections, but at least he knew that he wouldn’t get much further trying to push Harry, either. “Think about it this way. Maybe you can defend yourself against the Dark Lord if you learn enough about it.”

Harry nodded. Then he hesitated, muttered, “You can visit me sometime this summer, right?” and gave Draco a quick hug that Draco could have closed his eyes and missed. He had barely even felt the touch of Harry’s arms around him.

Draco nodded. “Of course I can.” He smiled at Harry, touched his shoulder once, and turned away from the Gryffindor common room. He had some packing to finish himself, and he would never hear the end of it from his parents if he arrived at the train station looking flustered. There was always someone in Slytherin who would be happy to offer that information to Mother and Father even if he had managed to smooth all traces away.

“Have a good summer,” Harry called after him.

Draco turned around, gave Harry a serious nod, and said, “You had better. And practice.”

It wasn’t Harry’s mumbled reassurance that really convinced Draco he would. Dash was meeting Draco’s eyes, arching his neck a little to do it. And he bobbed his head in a discreet nod as Draco watched.

Good, Draco thought, and went his way happier and more confident than he had before.

*

“Can I talk to you, Harry?”

Tell him no and that you’ll be upstairs checking under the bed for werewolves.

It was too bad Dash didn’t care about hurting Sirius’s feelings, because Harry would sometimes have used his suggested replies if he did. He turned around instead and nodded to Sirius. “I think we have to, don’t we?”

Sirius sagged for a second, as if he had hoped that Harry would just want to talk to him because he liked him. But then he nodded determinedly, and turned around and walked into the drawing room. Harry did the same thing, trying to ignore the increased hum of protective enchantments on the windows. He thought Dumbledore had put them up, and he would probably say that he was worried about Voldemort if Harry asked. Sirius must have told him about Harry’s scar bleeding, at the very least.

But Harry wondered whether those enchantments might also respond to accidental magic. He didn’t know if he would be able to keep his promise to Draco.

I can help with that.

Sirius sat down on the big black couch against one wall and started speaking before Harry could ask how. “You-I haven’t treated you fairly, Harry. I apologize. And this is something I ought to have told you before, but I didn’t know how to say it.”

Harry took a cautious breath. It felt as though his lungs had been crushed flat and now he was breathing normally again. Of course, he didn’t know if Sirius was going to keep that promise to tell him the truth or not.

And you don’t know if he means the apology.

For right now, though, Harry didn’t find anything wrong with smiling cautiously at Sirius and asking, “What should you have told me before?”

Sirius stared at the wall behind him with hollow eyes. Then he faced Harry, and Harry felt his smile slip. Sirius looked absolutely devastated, as though he thought Harry was going to march out of the house any second.

Maybe he hates me so much for making Lupin leave that he wants me to move out.

You had nothing to do with making Lupin leave-

Sirius interrupted Dash, although of course he couldn’t know that. “Do you remember the question I asked you a while ago, Harry? About Divination?”

Harry stared at him, blinking. He wanted to flinch a moment later, because he was sure it made him look stupid, but it still took a reminder from Dash for him to bring the memory back. “Oh. When you asked me why I was in Divination?”

“Yes.” Sirius seemed to be bracing himself. He smoothed one hand down the arm of the couch, but snatched it back when he saw Harry looking at him. Or maybe it was when he saw Dash looking at him. Harry didn’t actually know.

You should trust your instincts when it comes to the smelly dog-man. He is too dangerous to be handled any other way.

“What about it?” Harry still couldn’t think why Sirius would be interested in his reasons for choosing Divination as a class.

Sirius spent a minute contemplating his hands. Then he looked up. “Dumbledore told me something about you. About-prophecies.”

Harry could barely understand the last word, because all the spit seemed to have drained out of Sirius’s throat, but Dash was already hissing. Harry grabbed him around the middle so he wouldn’t go slithering at Sirius, and asked, “What? Is there a prophecy about me?” Then a realization hit him, about how stupid he would be to think it was only about him, and he added, “About me and Voldemort?”

Sirius forgot to flinch at the name, still staring broodingly at him. Then he nodded and closed his eyes.

“Dumbledore told me,” Sirius whispered, “that You-Know-Who came after you because he heard you were destined to kill him. And you’d have to face him again before it was all said and done.”

He opened his eyes, and they were shining with tears. “Harry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just got so focused on protecting you and giving you a childhood that I didn’t want to tell you about Remus because I thought you were already burdened with enough. And then I thought-I wondered if it was better for you to find someone else other than me to raise you. Someone who would be better at teaching you how to survive. Because I don’t know how to help you survive dueling him, and I’m scared.”

Harry sat there. He knew he should say something. He just didn’t know what to say.

He’s lying.

Harry blinked and looked down. Dash was wrapped around his waist, his head sticking out and projecting towards Sirius. Harry stroked his plume without thinking about it. About what? The prophecy? He was calm, he thought. He was, and it was sort of absurd, when he had just been told he really had to kill Voldemort once and for all. But maybe Sirius’s words had cleaned him out of emotion and so he had to wait until it came back.

I cannot tell. Dash swayed in agitation and flicked his tongue out again. I only know that he is lying about something.

Harry took a deep breath and looked up. “Dash says you’re lying about something. What is it?”

Sirius froze, and looked from Harry to Dash. Dash’s eyelids were quivering. Harry grabbed him around the neck. Keep your gaze for someone who’s done something worse.

At the moment, I know of no one who has.

Harry shook his head. I don’t want you to.

Dash’s eyelids calmed down. Harry turned back to Sirius. “You want me to trust you again, after all you’ve done to me?” he asked. “Trust me now. Tell me what it was.”

I still sound like the adult. But if being an adult was so repulsive to him, then Harry knew he would have stopped giving Sirius any more chances.

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know what he means. There was a prophecy. That was another reason I kept Remus’s secret from you. I am scared.” He reached out a tentative hand, and ruffled Harry’s hair when Harry sat there and didn’t try to stop you. “I don’t know what you want me to tell the truth about.”

He ended on such a helpless note that Harry was convinced. Dash flicked his tongue sulkily and announced, Now he doesn’t smell as if he was lying. But I know what I smelled.

Could you have mistaken it for something else? It’s not something you would smell most of the time, is it? Harry couldn’t really picture an animal lying.

I know what I smelled.

Dash said nothing after that, and Harry sighed and turned back to Sirius. “I want-I just want you to tell the truth,” he said, and his chest ached in a way that he thought might be a sign of his emotions returning. “I want to trust you. I want to live with you. I just-I can’t do that if you lie to me.”

“No,” said Sirius. “No, I won’t, Harry, not ever again.” He looked as though he had rescued Harry from walking off a cliff or something, the way he was smiling and sitting straight in his chair.

Harry blinked at him. It’s like…the opposite of what it was like living with the Dursleys. Sirius really does want to help me and know me better. I’m the one who’s in control here, if I want to be. Not the way it was at the Dursleys, where I was just the victim.

Harry sighed. He had told Draco the truth. Power wasn’t really interesting to him, and he wasn’t interested in exercising it over Sirius, either.

But he would do it if he had to. He straightened in his chair, too. “All right,” he said. “Tell me about the prophecy again. Did Dumbledore tell you exactly what it said?”

As Sirius started to answer, Harry felt Dash hug him especially close, one loop of his body around Harry’s waist that was nearer than the others, his scales picking up Harry’s heat. I want you to practice magic the way you promised Draco you would.

I already said I will. But why do you care?

So you can defend yourself when the smelly dog-man turns on you.

Harry had no answer for that, and something interesting to listen to. So he stroked Dash, and was still.

Chapter Thirty-Two.

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