Harry curled up with Nagini that night. He tried to get the snake to join him on the bed so that he could enjoy her company as well as his soft mattress, not having to sacrifice one for the other, but she wouldn't budge from her accustomed spot in front of the fire. When Harry pulled his pillow off the bed, deciding to make the rug as comfortable as possible, she seemed almost hesitant for him to join her.
"Brother should sleep in his own nest," she hissed, shifting away from him when he laid beside her.
At first he was hurt. First his Master preferred Bellatrix's company over his, and now Nagini was rejecting him. But then he realized that she sounded more anxious than anything. She was scared that she might injure him again. It took some coaxing, but Harry finally got her to let him get close. "I know you're worried about hurting me, sister. But I'm fine. Just don't wrap round my throat."
"What if Nagini dreams she is hunting prey? Nagini might strike brother in her sleep? Then she will be alone."
"You won't. Of course you won't," he reassured her. "Even if you did—which you won't—you would still have Master. But I'm not going anywhere."
"Does brother promise?" Nagini was already moving closer to him. It hadn't taken much, really, to convince her. She enjoyed his company as much as he did hers.
Harry promised, though how he could guarantee that she wouldn't kill him was beyond him. He decided that he would ask if his Master could charm something that would sound an alert if he was again in danger. Thinking on it, he was surprised that the Dark Lord hadn't done this already. Either way, Harry relaxed beside her, as he had many times in the past week.
They were to be each other's companion, after all. That was his role within the Dark Lord's army and one that he was more than happy to fill. He would care for her and she for him.
It was an easy task, and as the days went by, Harry would occasionally wonder how it was that he was so content. His Master would visit on occasion, usually to share in a pot of tea. He would ask Harry how he was enjoying the novel. He offered few opinions of his own, allowing Harry to talk and Nagini to hiss her own uninformed suggestions. Harry mentioned his idea about some kind of object that would monitor his health, but Voldemort explained that he was perfectly safe within these rooms, that there were already surveillance charms in effect. He never stayed for long; the Ministry was in disarray and needed his near constant attention. And so Harry and Nagini were alone much of the time. No one knocked on their door, his house-elf came and went without notice. The two Horcruxes wanted for nothing but more attention from their Master. But he was busy, and for now they had each other and that was enough.
Harry thought about Hermione on occasion, and wondered what she was doing and if she was being cared for. A voice in his head nagged that he should ask to see her, that he had chosen her, that she was his responsibility. Now that the adrenaline from his mission to the Chamber was gone, though, he was filled with doubts. Oh, choosing her still felt right, but how could she forgive him? And more than that, did he need her to? It didn't feel so important anymore. He refused to admit to himself that this was his guilt talking, but as each day went by, it compounded. And so he didn't ask about her and told himself she was all right.
Harry yelped the first time Nagini slithered into the room when he was taking a bath. "Can't you knock?"
"No," she replied. Of course she couldn't, Harry belatedly realized. Then, because that was the way his luck went, she asked, "What was brother doing with his hands?"
"Nothing!" he spluttered, surprised. Unless she wanted petting, she rarely noticed his hands at all. A consequence of not having any, perhaps. "What did you want?"
"Nagini woke up and was alone," she complained. And then, "Can Nagini swim, too?"
It was a small bath, and she was a big snake. Also: modesty. "After I get out. I'm almost done."'
But she was already gliding closer. "Nagini has been alone long enough. She wants to swim now." And then the bath was suddenly very cramped.
Harry pulled his knees up, trying to make himself as small as possible. Fortunately, the tub was charmed to keep the water nice and warm, as Nagini was content to relax with him in it for seemingly hours. Harry tried to leave several times with no success. She seemed completely uninterested in his nakedness, and he finally released the death-grip on his legs. It was a tight fit for them both, and they were pressed together. But they spent most of their time like that, the only difference now being his lack of clothes. For Nagini, clothes were inconsequential, a human unnaturalness, and so Harry determined to set aside his bashfulness.
They bathed together frequently after that, even if it meant that Harry's hands had to be preoccupied with snake petting, rather than…
It was a small sacrifice.
Besides, the days were long and she slept more than he did. There were ample opportunities to steal away for a bit of privacy. And If he snuck away more often after a visit from his Master, no one was there to find out.
With no reliable way to track the passage of time, and each day a monotonous replica of the one before, Harry was surprised to find his formal Death Eater robes ready for him once again. He donned them and waited, nervously, at the table. Nagini was coiled next to the fire, asleep. Without her to distract him with her prattle, he called for a pot of the calming tea his Master had once given him. It arrived with a quiet 'pop', but Harry soon forgot about it.
Again, it was Draco who came for him. Harry hadn't seen the other boy in weeks, but he seemed much the same. He hesitated outside the door until Harry motioned him in.
"She's out of it," Harry said, seeing Draco's eyes linger on Nagini. "I doubt she'll bother you." He waited for some kind of barb, about how it had been Harry she'd nearly killed, but it never came. Draco had a healthy enough respect of her lethalness, perhaps, to not jest about it—even if Harry would be the butt of the joke.
"You'll need to bring her. Next time have her ready," Draco said. Quietly, he added, "Can you wake her safely? I understand if…I don't know…if it's too dangerous to rouse her."
Seeing Draco so serious made Harry even more anxious. As he walked to Nagini, bracing against the inevitable onset of her complaints in being woken from her nap, he asked, "Is everything okay?"
Draco dropped into one of the chairs by the table. "Yeah, Potter, why wouldn't it be." The usual sharpness in his voice was absent.
Harry began stroking his sister, hissing, "Time to wake, Nagini." She grumbled and slid about, uncharacteristically trying to avoid his pets—before pushing into his hand, that is, as she began to wake up and enjoy his touch.
"Is that safe? Waking her like that?" asked Draco. "If she strikes you, it'll be me that—"
"It's fine so long as I don't startle her," Harry reassured him. "She's just a bit whiny, is all. She's really spoiled."
"I can believe that," Draco agreed. "The Dark Lord has always given her anything she's wanted, or so it seemed. But maybe don't let her eat your uncle. Even she couldn't manage that lump."
Harry's hand stilled, which got Nagini's attention. "Brother, keep petting Nagini."
He shook himself a bit and resumed stroking her. "What do you mean?"
Draco snorted. "How could you forget? The man's a regular boule de suif." At Harry's raised eyebrows, he translated the French. "A ball of lard, Potter. Or he was, anyway. I admit he's shrunk a fair bit in the past month and a half, width-wise anyway. But he's still fat enough to give her indigestion," he finished, gesturing towards Nagini.
It was Midsummer, Harry realized. That was when Voldemort had promised him that he could kill Vernon. Would Dudley be present, too?
Draco was still talking, seemingly not noticing that Harry had gone into a daze. "Before I saw him, I hadn't thought much about what our Lord said during your Initiation. I figured you were scrawny because it was a family trait, or you were a picky eater or something. Your aunt was thin enough, after all. But seeing your uncle and cousin was an eye-opener. They really didn't treat you properly, did they? They obviously starved you. What else did they do?"
Harry pinched his lips tight. There was no way that Harry was going to open up to Draco Malfoy, of all people, about his less-than-stellar childhood. "Shut up, Malfoy. Just…shut up."
Draco raised his hands up placatingly. "I didn't mean to pry, Potter. No need to get all worked up."
Harry glared for another few seconds, pushing down the urge to stomp over there and smash the teapot, tea and all, over Draco's head. Perhaps he really should have drank a cup or two earlier, as he could use the enforced calm right about now. Instead, he asked, "Is my cousin going to be there, too? And how big is this event going to be?"
Draco shrugged. "Bigger than last year's Solstice festival,"—as if that helped Harry at all—"We don't usually have live sacrifices, but I'll bet that'll change as the Dark Lord alters the laws protecting Muggles from their, how shall we say, involvement in our rites? And no, your cousin won't be there. He was moved a few weeks ago."
"Moved? Where?" Harry asked. And what was a Solstice festival, anyway? But he wasn't going to ask Malfoy that. He'd find out soon enough. His Master knew that he was, unfortunately, ignorant of nearly all Wizarding celebrations and traditions. Dumbledore had him raised for slaughter, after all, and why would a sacrificial lamb need to know about his birthright? If Voldemort hadn't thought it necessary that he was better prepared for the Solstice, then he needn't be concerned.
Draco fiddled with the handle of the teapot. "Out of the dungeons, that's all I know. I'm surprised you haven't asked about him already, Potter. It's unlike like you to not try to save people. Even if he is a disgusting Muggle, he was just a kid. Your family. He wasn't the one who, I don't know, beat you and stuff."
"I was not…for fuck's sake, Malfoy. I told you to shut up about that. Besides, Dudley was not some stupid, innocent Muggle. He was just as bad." Harry ignored the memory of his cousin's attempt to make good with him last summer. It wasn't enough to excuse fifteen years worth of bullying.
"I don't know, Potter," Draco said, quietly. "Is it really a kid's fault that they mimic their parents? It's human nature, after all. Take me, for example. I was all set up to be a little Lucius. And he was raised to be like his father. All loyal to the Dark Lord's great vision."
Harry did look at Draco, then. He wasn't sure what to make of that little speech. It was some strange blend of self-recrimination and empathy—not something Harry would expect to hear from the other boy. "Remember who I'm loyal to," he cautioned. Then, because he couldn't forgive his cousin for the Harry Hunting and all the forced isolation of his early childhood, he added, "Besides, it has to stop sometime, this passing the blame. All kids become adults. Is it only then that their actions matter? That they're to blame? Even Hagrid knew Dudley was an arse. And even you have to admit how kind Hagrid was, what a soft heart he had."
It was the perfect opportunity for Malfoy, who had never liked the former groundskeeper. Soft head, you mean. But instead, he slumped further in the chair and said, "Yeah. I guess." He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair, which of course fell meticulously back into place right afterwards. "Let's not be late this time. Is she ready to go?"
Harry nodded and told Nagini to follow him. She didn't grumble about not being carried this time, but slithered rapidly ahead of the two boys before turning to scold them for not keeping pace with her.
"She's lively," Draco commented.
"We haven't been outside for a while. Six weeks maybe," Harry said. "I hadn't realized so much time had passed. I guess after this past year on the run I really needed the rest."
Draco made a face. "You've been shut up since I last saw you? Huh. Well, quite a bit's changed. You may get a few shocks."
"I hope not," Harry responded. Then, "Nagini, don't get too far ahead!"
"Don't worry about her, if that's what your hissing was about. She knows the way well enough. Before she was shut up with you, she pretty much had the run of the manor. The only one who knew all the nooks and crannies as well as her was Pettigrew. And that was only so he'd be able to get away from her when she was on 'the hunt,' as the Dark Lord called it."
"Really?" Harry said. He smiled and said, "I'd love to see the memory of her hunting him, if you can get me a copy."
"Sure thing, Potter."
After a few moments, Harry asked, "Why didn't Wormtail just transform back into a human if she kept coming after him like that?"
"Oh he did," Draco answered. "But she would happily eat him either way. For a while, Pettigrew moved in with Professor Snape to get away from her. You can imagine how happy he was about that."
"He must have been livid," Harry said, picturing Snape sharing his home with one of the hated Marauders. "Before he betrayed my parents, Pettigrew was one of my dad's best friends."
"I know," said Draco. Of course he knew. Everyone knew that, Harry remembered. The whole thing with Sirius and Peter, the broken Fidelius, the wrong conviction…
"Right," Harry said and cast that part of the memory aside. It made him feel as dirty as any treacherous rat. "But that wasn't my point. My dad and his friends went to school with Snape."
"Professor Snape, Mr Potter," Draco said, teasingly.
"Not anymore, he's not," Harry said, forcing the words past his suddenly tight throat. "Anyway, they weren't exactly friends. Snape and my dad's friends, that is."
Draco snorted. "Yeah, I somehow figured that out." Then, with a playfulness Harry had never heard from the other boy, he gave a fairly good impression of the Potions Master's soft, icy voice: "Just like your father. Five hundred points from Gryffindor."
Harry laughed before he could stop himself. He didn't want to be enjoying Malfoy's company. Beside him, Draco was grinning. Harry sighed. "Yeah, that. Exactly. Have you seen him? Snape?"
Draco's smile was immediately gone. His voice cracked when he said, "Yeah, but he was too far away for me to get a good look. From what I did see…he didn't look all that great, to be honest. But I guess he had been dead and all. I really can't imagine what that must have like."
By now, they had passed through the long corridors that Harry recognized from his few trips through the manor. A wide staircase, carpeted in emerald green and framed by gleaming bannisters, was before them, leading down towards a set of double doors.
As they followed Nagini down the stairs, Draco said, "I still have a hard time believing it, you know. That he was gone. And that he can bring people back. It's crazy."
"I saw Snape die," said Harry. "It's real."
Draco paused, holding a hand out to stop Harry from moving past him. "I know. It's just so unbelievable. I mean…just…how?"
Harry nudged Draco's shoulder. "Magic."
He was surprised by the gaiety that met them outside. The lawn in front of the manor was strewn with ribbons and a group of musicians were standing to the side of the raked gravel drive, tuning their instruments. Small groups of house-elves were setting up tall poles a short distance away under Narcissa's stern direction. Even they looked cleaner and happier, with freshly laundered tea-towels pinned round their torsos.
"This is not what I expected," Harry said as he followed Draco onto the grass.
"And what did you expect, Potter?
"Not this," admitted Harry. "This is nice."
"Of course it's 'nice'," Draco said, sniffing. His expression of mock-indignation was, however, quickly replaced with one of wicked amusement. "For now, anyway. It will stay family-friendly until the bonfires are lit."
And then what? wondered Harry. But then he remembered.
Vernon.
The sun was still high. It would take hours for it to set. What were they supposed to do until then? Mingle? Have 'fun'? What did pure-bloods do for family entertainment, anyway? Surely not lawn bowling. Harry supressed a snicker at the thought of Voldemort's Inner Circle politely engaged in the genteel sport.
"My father told me that the Dark Lord has been working to loosen the restrictions against some of the more ancient ceremonies, so tonight should be something to remember. I hope he doesn't give you a curfew like he did last time." Harry glared, but Draco was watching the festival preparations. White tents were being raised, dotting the lawn. "It wasn't any fun after you left. The Dark Lord didn't even return after he escorted you out, and then my mother got into an argument with my father, and then my aunt left in a huff."
Harry tried to remember what exactly had happened that night. He had been rather overwhelmed by everything, and all he could remember now was Umbridge screaming, naked and bloody. He recalled being embarrassed by something his Master and Bellatrix had said, but it didn't seem all that important now.
"Why bother with the legalities?" Harry asked, decidedly not responding to the other things Draco had said. "He's the ruler of the country now. Can't he just order what he wants? Wasn't that the point?"
"Of course he can," Draco answered. "But the Dark Lord believes that the changes he desires will be more easily accepted by the general populace if they at least look legal. There are all kinds of referendums in the works to push through his agenda. They're all staged, of course. But it looks good. The key is in making sure it doesn't reek of corruption. That would ruin our image, internationally."
"Why would he care about that?" asked Harry.
"The economy," he said, as if that was some kind of answer. Draco must have assumed it was, as he changed the subject immediately. "You look so sombre in that outfit. Why didn't you put on your summer robes?"
Harry sighed. "I don't pick out my clothes, Malfoy."
Draco looked him up and down, his head cocked to the side. "The cut is nice enough, and is that silk?" He reached towards Harry, to finger the material perhaps.
Harry stepped back and bumped into someone. He mumbled an apology, but when he looked over his shoulder he couldn't see anyone there.
Draco said, "There's no need to apologize to the help. It shouldn't be getting so close that you trip over it the moment you turn round."
It was a house-elf, already smashing it's head upon the ground to punish itself for the supposed transgression.
"Hey, make it stop. I don't like that," Harry told Malfoy.
Draco scowled, but to the house-elf he said, "Hey you! Get out of here and make yourself useful with the maypoles."
The small creature looked up, dazedly. "Thank you, young Master Malfoy. Tipsy will—"
Harry never found out what Tipsy would do, as the elf disappeared with a Crack! in order to avoid Draco's boot. Harry bit his tongue to stop himself from automatically telling Malfoy off. After all, he'd done far worse than kick a house-elf in the last month and a half. And tonight he would be presented with Vernon. He couldn't afford to be self-righteous, nor had he that right.
So, instead he talked about clothes with Draco Malfoy. He tried to pay attention when Draco explained that his own pale blue robes were linen, with only a hint of silk. That the cut was traditional within his father's family, but that the embroidered daisies at the hem had been chosen by his mother. "It was either that or I wear an actual daisy-crown," he said sullenly. "Which I refused, of course. I don't care if it's tradition; the embroidery is bad enough. It's not too girly, is it?"
Harry blinked. He peered down at the hem of Draco's 'summer' robes. "There are daisies there? I can't even see them."
Draco huffed. "Well, of course not. You're nearly blind." He ignored Harry's glower and continued, "I told my mother that I wouldn't wear them if they were too loud. These aren't so bad, I suppose. When I was younger the stitching was far bigger, so I guess I shouldn't complain."
Before Draco latched onto the topic of their respective childhoods, Harry suggested that they find Nagini, who had slithered off. The misdirection worked well enough, and the two were soon peering under tables trying to find a twenty-foot snake, preferably before someone accidentally stepped on her.
They found her basking on a small stone within a circle of standing stones. She refused to budge, hissing, "This place is warm, brother, with sun and magic. Come back later."
"She won't come with me," Harry said. "Maybe we should stay here. I don't think I should just leave her."
"I don't think it's you protecting her, Potter. She's fine and it's daylight still. The Dark Lord didn't tell you to keep her with you at all times, did he? Let's go back and ask my mother if she needs any help"
Harry paused, then realized Draco was right. Still, he couldn't help hissing, "Are you sure you don't want to come with me, sister? You're all alone here."
She assured him that she was fine, that she was always with Harry and away from the sun, that her Master let her bask here last year before the 'big fires', as she put it. Harry tried not to feel hurt that she seemed to prefer a stone to him. He left with Draco, hissing a farewell to the sleepy snake.
On the way back to the front of the manor, Harry couldn't help himself from saying, "You have a bloody miniature Stonehenge."
"Not really," Draco said dismissively. "It's really nothing special. Every pure-blood estate has something similar for consecrating the eight quarter-days, as well as bonding rites and such."
Harry just nodded, not admitting that he didn't understand half of what Draco had just said.
Draco continued, "And try to watch your language this evening, Potter. We are expecting a number of young children. They don't need to be subjected to your crass vocabulary."
Harry rolled his eyes, knowing that Draco could be just as vulgar.
Narcissa was pleased to see them, as harried as she was with supervising the festival set-up. "And where have you two been," she scolded, even as she thrust flower-filled baskets at them both. "I saw you loitering about earlier. I could have used your help. Your father is so busy with our Lord that he won't be here until the ceremony begins." She glanced, then, at Harry, as if worried she'd said something he might report to his Master. "Not that he shouldn't be at the Dark Lord's side right now, of course."
Draco didn't seem to notice the wary looks his mother was giving Harry. "Potter needed to find the Dark Lord's snake before he could relax. We found her on one of the menhirs."
"I'll tell the Dark Lord where she is when he arrives," she said. As she turned, intent on some new task, she called over her shoulder, "You two boys get to work!"
