A/N - Written for round eight of the Quidditch League Fanfiction competition - writing fluff about the Basilisk - with the word prompts Beastly, Transformation and Difficult. I'm not sure how fluffy this is, but I tried. This was mostly written on the Tube, so if you see any mistakes please let me know.
It was difficult. Harder than he'd imagined, being a half blood amongst Purebloods. He didn't fit in. He wasn't Slytherin enough for them, but he was too Slytherin for anyone else.
But that all changed because of a chance discovery in his second year.
Walking down a crowded corridor, he could finally relax. There were enough people fighting to get through on their way to class that he could fade into the background. He was momentarily free from all the taunts, ridicule and laughter.
A wrong turn, however, led him to the second floor, where a fifth year class was being held with both Gryffindor and Slytherin students attending. He ducked into the first unlocked door he found – hoping that it wasn't in use – in an effort to hide from the other students. He watched them walk past through the crack between the door and the frame, and finally breathed a sigh of relief when they turned the corner.
Before leaving the room, he took a quick look around. A toilet. His place of refuge was a toilet. A look of disgust washed over his features, and he hurried to get out of there.
As he opened the door he caught a glimpse of the sign, his face turning bright red. The girls toilet.
He was still standing in the corridor holding the door open when he heard more footsteps approaching.
He panicked.
Instead of walking down the corridor and making his way to class, he dived back into the girls toilets before anyone could see him.
Alright. Everything would be fine. He'd just wait until they'd gone past and then he could leave; no one need know.
Only... things never really seemed to go as he had planned.
The group of students had stopped. Right. Outside. The. Toilets. The girls toilets. Which he was currently hiding in.
This was not good.
And they were right. Outside. The door.
He was panicking; not sure what to do. It had been easier in some ways, living with Muggles. At least they couldn't retaliate with magic. And he knew he was better than them. Now was different.
He found himself gasping for air, head spinning. The room was both too hot and too cold.
He stumbled over to the sink, legs shaking, limbs feeling too heavy. He braced himself on either side of the cold porcelain, head bowing as though he no longer had the energy to even hold it up.
He stayed like that for what felt like several minutes – but was more likely only a few seconds – trying to regulate his breathing.
When the silver taps had finally stopped spinning and merged into one faucet, he turned it and let it run for a while before splashing his face with the cold water. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, opening them to be greeted with the sight of a snake entwined around the tap on the next sink over. He leant closer, sure his eyes must be tricking him – but no. There it was, engraved in the metal.
He took a step to the side, so that he was standing in front of the sink.
"I'm like you," he whispered. "Forgotten. Abandoned. Who cares? Alone, either way. But that's okay. We can look out for ourselves. We just need to be clever about it. Keep our eyes and ears... open..." With a wordless cry, he fell back as the sink began to move. Sinking out of sight until all that was left was a gaping hole leading to what appeared to be a passage way.
Breathing heavily, palms pressed firmly against the sticky bathroom tiles, he craned his neck from his position on the floor but he couldn't see anything past the entrance of the corridor, no matter how hard he strained his eyes.
Slowly, and when he was absolutely sure no more passages were going to open up to an even more oppressive darkness – and that nothing was going to come out of this one, though he was trying very hard not to think about that – he pushed himself to his feet.
He stood for a while, listening, but when he couldn't hear anything apart from the pounding of his own heart, he cautiously made his way over to the opening and stepped inside.
He left the bathroom, without a backwards glance.
The tap still running.
He left the passage, heart beating so hard in his chest it felt like it would pound its way right out of his ribcage.
He was in a chamber, so huge and yet he couldn't see a purpose behind its being there. The room didn't appear to have been used in decades, the walls crumbling slightly even with the magic that held the impossible castle together working on them.
A strange sliding noise sounded from behind him, as if something was being dragged across the floor.
"Yhesss, Mhasster," a voice hissed more than spoke from behind him.
Something told him he shouldn't turn around.
He wasn't sure if it was cowardice or some ingrained form of self preservation, but he trusted the instinct and hoped that he wouldn't come the regret the decision.
It was possibly the most Gryffindor thing he'd ever done.
"Who are you? Why are you calling me that? Do you even know who I am?" His voice felt strange when he spoke, like his vocal chords weren't working properly, but he couldn't figure out why.
"I know who you are, Mhasster," the thing hissed; he was sure now that it wasn't human, the voice sounded far too beastly for that. "Yhouu are the hhheir, the hheir of Ssslytherin. The lahsst hheir. Mhyy Mhassster."
"W-what? I-"
"Whee are alike, Mhasster. Yhouu and I. Ffhorgotten. Aahlone,"
"You heard? You heard!" He was so shocked he almost turned around, but remembered himself just in time.
"Yhess, Mhasster, I heard." The creature hissed.
It was as if a transformation suddenly overcame him. He grinned.
"Yes. We're the same. But we're not alone any more."