14. Slither [Friday, December 10th 2004]
Potter must have caught them; Draco was sure of it. He hadn't seen Potter for almost two weeks. The Quidditch season was over, which meant injuries were at a low, if not necessarily non-existent.
Potter hadn't been at St. Mungo's since the party, which was a rather long hiatus for him. He usually came in at least once a week, as the Falcons' daily trainings were still brutal. Draco knew for a fact that Potter hadn't been to the hospital, because he kept checking his case files daily. For medical reasons.
Blaise, on the other hand, had seen Potter several times and for hours on end. They were still working on the Lightning Blast together and Blaise had been waxing lyrically about their progress over Wednesday Dinner, which had taken place at Draco's again. Blaise had been almost forty minutes late. Draco didn't want to know what had made him forget the time.
For a wild moment, Draco had dared to think that maybe Potter would be accompanying Blaise again, but that hadn't happened. Blaise had told him that he had invited Potter, but he had feigned a slim excuse and then left the workshop in a hurry.
Draco didn't know if he should be disappointed or relieved. He wasn't sure if he could look into Potter's eyes ever again, but at the same time, he longed to see him, maybe exchange some insults and be glared at. That always made him feel better.
Now it was Friday evening and Draco was sitting on his couch with a book in his lap, staring into the roaring fireplace and thinking about Potter. It wasn't that he had planned to do it – he had been reading about rare curse scars, but then the book had mentioned Potter's scar in passing and Draco's concentration had gone out of the window.
Draco really didn't want to know how long he had been staring into the flames when the doorbell rang. His stomach grumbled on cue and Draco grabbed his wallet and went to open the door.
It wasn't the delivery boy in front of his door. In fact, there was nobody at all. Draco looked up and down the street, but the only person he could see was Mrs. Capitelli, who was clipping her rose bushes. The Jones' boys had probably played a prank on him again.
"I fucking hate children," Draco muttered to himself and motioned to close the door again, when something blocked it suddenly.
"Malfoy! It's me," whispered an urgent voice. And Draco knew perfectly well who 'me' was.
"Potter?"
But Potter, still invisible, had already pushed past him into the house. Draco closed the door mechanically and Potter appeared out of thin air, the Invisibility Cloak in one hand and curled in his other arm was –
"Is that a boomslang?" Draco asked, panic-stricken, and he retreated a few steps until his back hit the wall. "Are you mental?"
"Don't worry, she won't hurt you," Potter said, hanging the Invisibility Cloak on his clothes-stand and then rushing into his kitchen uninvited.
"She?" Draco was sounding a bit hysterical now. "Potter, that is a highly venomous snake!"
"She was attacked by a raptor. I found her near the pitch," Potter said, completely ignoring what Draco just said. "You've got a dog. You know how to heal pets, right?"
"Pets?" Draco squeaked. He wasn't even ashamed about it. That was a highly logical course of action, unlike what Potter was currently doing. "That's a murder noddle!"
"Malfoy, I promise you she's not dangerous," he said, clearing the table with his wand and then placing the snake on it carefully. "Trust me on this, alright?"
"That's a lot of trust you ask for!" Draco said, still standing in the door, as far away as possible from the dangerous animal Potter had just delivered into his (until now) perfectly safe home.
"Well, I trust you, so could you please trust me too?" Potter pleaded.
Draco looked down at the snake. It was wrapped in bloody bandages and squirmed oddly, clearly in pain.
"Why didn't you go to the Scamander Centre?" Draco complained. "They're experts!"
"I trust you," Potter repeated, but Draco could hear what he didn't want to say outright: Potter trusted him, but he didn't trust them.
Draco took a hesitant step forward. Potter sighed with relief and sat down on the kitchen chair, stroking the serpent's head with two fingers.
"Are you actually suicidal?" Draco exclaimed, taking a sudden step forward to wrench Potter's hand away.
The snake whipped around, baring its fangs and hissing at him, ready to strike. Potter pointed his wand at him with lightning speed and Draco was pushed backwards against the wall.
"She thinks you were going to attack her," Potter said reproachfully. "Watch what you're doing!"
"You're one to talk," Draco shot back. "You just went and touched it. Did you apply those bandages too?"
"She knows I'm not going to hurt her," Potter said, stroking her head soothingly.
"Well, then you should tell her that I don't want to hurt her, either," Draco said sarcastically.
And then, to his great surprise, Potter did. At least Draco assumed that he did, because he couldn't understand a word of what Potter was hissing at the snake. It seemed to work though. She slackened and hid her fangs. Draco took a careful step forward, but the serpent didn't seem to want to attack him anymore, though she still eyed Draco suspiciously.
"I thought you couldn't do that anymore?"
"Yeah, well, that's called 'protecting your privacy'," Potter said, unwinding the bandages at the same time.
Draco grimaced at the sight. The snake had several deep, lacerated wounds that could well have been caused by the talons of a predator bird.
"That doesn't look good," he said grimly, rolling up the right sleeve of his sweater and taking out his wand.
And then Draco was in his element. He didn't dare put the snake under, because he had never actually healed a snake and didn't know how much sedation she could take. He began with cleaning the wounds, always keeping an eye on the serpent's head. She had apparently allowed Potter to keep it still, which was somewhat reassuring.
Draco started on knitting the torn flesh back together while Potter talked to it quietly. Potter's Parsel wasn't harsh and cold like His had been. It flowed steadily, naturally, and Draco could feel himself relax along with the serpent.
It only took ten minutes for him to close the deepest wounds and he was just getting started on healing the skin when the doorbell rang again, startling them.
"Are you expecting someone?" Potter asked, glancing at the kitchen window.
Since it was already getting dark outside, this was rather pointless. Draco shook his head, still concentrating on the wounded animal on his table. Potter said something to the serpent and got up, his wand already drawn.
"Stay here," he said authoritatively, sliding into the hallway.
Draco's stomach rumbled again and suddenly he remembered. "Potter! Don't kill him, please!" he yelled. "It's just my food!"
"Since when do owls know how to ring a doorbell?" Potter yelled back suspiciously.
"It's from a Muggle place! Just pay him and take it, okay? I think my wallet is still somewhere on the floor. Pretty sure I dropped it when you jumped me."
Potter was silent for a few moments, then –
"You've got Muggle money?"
"Don't act so surprised! And get a move on, before he runs off with our food."
Potter was back a minute later, two bags in hand. "Are you sure he's a Muggle?" he asked, unconvinced.
"How would I know? I didn't see him, did I?" Draco said distractedly, still working on the snake.
"Indian teenager with really white teeth and a nose-ring," Potter described, unpacking four large containers.
"Yeah, that's Sanjay. He's definitely a Muggle."
"But he kept staring at my scar," Potter grumbled.
"Yeah, well, that's probably because it's massive, isn't it? Really stares you in the face."
He could feel Potter glaring at him. "I'll hex you later," Potter said shortly, opening a container. "That's Chinese."
"Yeah, so?"
"The kid was Indian."
"Stop criticising my food," Draco said and then, when he heard munching, "And stop eating my food."
"Ah, but you said it was our food, just a minute ago."
"I most certainly did not!" Draco protested.
"I've got the memory to prove it!"
"Yeah? Want me to take you up on it with a Legilimens?" Draco smirked and put away his wand. "There, good as new."
The snake seemed to think so too, because she wasn't lying flat anymore but coiling this way and that, as if testing for pain. Her bright green body was punctuated with slashes of lighter skin where Draco had healed her wounds, and there was a tiny scar forming on her underside that Draco could do nothing about, but all in all she was looking good.
Potter said something to her and she hissed back. Potter grinned at him, apparently satisfied with her answer.
"She says to tell you she loves you," Potter said, now rummaging in his drawers for cutlery. Raised in a barn.
"Did she really?" Draco said, disbelieving. Could snakes even be thankful?
Potter sat down at the table, handed him a fork and a plate, and began distributing his food. Draco didn't even try to stop him, as it wouldn't do any good anyway. The serpent had slithered down onto one of the empty chairs.
"Yeah, you're her hero now," Potter grinned. "They'll open an animal clinic in your honour and name it Saint Malfoy's Centre for Slitherin' Things. Guess what kind of animal they'll put on the emblem?"
Draco really looked at Potter for the first time that day. Before, he had been too distracted by the deadly animal in his home, but now he could actually focus on him.
Potter was wearing his black, close-fitting Quidditch gear, sans the grey-and-white robe. His trackies had grass stains all over them and his hair was just ridiculous – like he had just fallen from his broom and tumbled all over the pitch. He was still wearing his arm guards and the left one had two very odd holes in it, like the leather had been etched away.
"Potter, did she bite you?" Draco asked suspiciously.
"No?" Potter tried, immediately hiding his forearm under the table.
Draco went around the table and seized his arm. There were a few smaller holes next to the big, corroded ones, definitely bite marks.
"You said she was harmless!"
"She was scared and I hadn't gotten a chance to talk to her yet!"
"You're unbelievable!" Draco said, unfastening the damaged arm guard.
"Nothing happened; I'm completely fine!" Potter protested, wrenching his arm out of Draco's grasp.
"You're an idiot, that's what you are!" Draco said. "Boomslang venom is very slow-acting, it could take hours until you even notice that something is wrong, and by then it'll be too late!"
"Fine," Potter said, taking off both arm guards and placing them neatly on the last empty chair. "But be quick about it, I'm starving."
Draco pushed up the sleeve. Almost instantly, like he suddenly remembered, Potter tried to wrench his arm away again, but Draco held his wrist in a vice-like grip. There were no fang marks on his arm, but several bruises in all stages of healing. Draco looked up at him in disbelieve.
"I can explain!" Potter said instantly, but then didn't follow up on it.
"Please do," Draco said cooly.
"Er … Quidditch accident?"
"Yes, I can see that. And you didn't heal them, because …?"
Potter dragged a hand through his hair, which didn't make it any better. "It doesn't even hurt that much, I just forgot about them," he said unconvincingly.
Draco raised one eyebrow and poked a rather large, purple bruise. Potter flinched mightily and slapped his hand away.
"Ouch! Fine, I'm rubbish at healing spells, okay?"
"You could've put arnica on it, at least!"
"I must have misplaced it. Now stop interrogating me!" Potter pulled his sleeve back down hastily.
"Take off your shirt."
"I – you – what?!" Potter stammered, crossing his arms in front of his chest tightly, as if waiting for Draco to jump him. "I'm not stripping in your kitchen!"
"Would you rather do it somewhere else?" Draco said, drawing his wand.
Potter stared at him, his bright green eyes flitting across Draco's face. Draco felt exposed all of a sudden, felt as if this was the first time somebody really looked at him. He swallowed nervously. Why was his throat so dry?
Draco knew that Potter wouldn't budge. Potter had never before made a fuss about getting half-naked in front of him, but now he did. He had seen him and his doppelganger together and now he felt uncomfortable. Perfect.
But Draco had to see.
"Strip or I'll tell the Prophet about your Parseltongue," he said, disgusted with himself.
If looks could kill, Draco would have dropped right then and there. Potter grabbed the hem of his shirt with both hands and pulled it over his head slowly, cursing under his breath. Draco heard the word "Slytherin" several times and felt so very, very dirty. But that thought vanished as soon as he saw Potter's torso.
There were bruises, but they were not the worst of it – on the side of his stomach, there was a new, round scar, several tones lighter than the surrounding skin. It seemed to stem from a puncture wound.
"What did you do?" Draco said faintly, circling around him once. There was another, similar scar on the back, where the exit wound had been.
"It was just the fat tissue!" Potter said defensively, crossing both arms in front of his stomach.
"Just some fat – of which you have practically none, by the way – so it's okay to just walk around with a gaping wound and let it heal all by itself?" Draco said angrily.
"It wasn't gaping! It was just a metal rod that went through and Blaise immediately healed it, so it's all good now!"
"You let Blaise heal that? And what a fucking good job he did too. Just look at that scar – completely unnecessary!"
"I'm sorry my scar offends you somehow!" Potter yelled. "I just didn't have time to go to Mungo's alright? Get off your high hippogriff!"
"Why don't you just save us some time and admit you've been avoiding me?!"
"Because I haven't been avoiding you!"
"Quit your bullshit, Potter," Draco said cooly. "I know you went down to the shore, alright?"
Potter just looked at him open-mouthed and did what he always did when he didn't know what else to do – he messed up his hair some more.
"How …?" he finally managed.
"Granger told me," Draco said and added, when Potter opened his mouth angrily, "It was afterwards and she didn't know what she was actually telling me."
Did he just defend Granger against Potter? Something must be seriously wrong with him.
"And now?" Potter asked, crossing his arms again, this time in front of his bare chest. It was only now that Draco noticed the necklace – two miniature wings of a Snitch on a thread.
"What do you mean 'now'?" Draco said emotionlessly. "Now nothing. You're blowing this way out of proportion. It was just a kiss, nothing else. I was really drunk. And if it helps, I wouldn't have done it if I had known."
Potter turned his back on him then and put his shirt back on, which took rather long. Draco suspected that his injuries were more painful than he let on. Fine by him. Potter could stand to suffer a little if he didn't want Draco's help.
When Potter faced him again, he seemed oddly calm all of a sudden. "So, it meant nothing to you?" he asked flatly.
"It wasn't even that good," Draco lied through his teeth. "Listen, I like to think we were finally getting to a point where we can tolerate each other, maybe even spend some time as something resembling friends. I'd really like to keep it that way. So, if we could just forget any of that ever happened?"
Potter nodded shortly, but Draco had a feeling that his heart wasn't in it. Getting back on Potter's good side – if he even had been there before – would likely take some time and effort. Well, Draco had nothing better to do, anyway.
Draco took out his wand (Potter flinched again) and floated their plates over onto the coffee table in front of the sofa, where he sat down. He looked over at Potter, who didn't show the slightest inclination to follow.
"Sit down and eat, will you?" Draco said plainly.
"I wouldn't want to intrude," Potter said, bending over the snake, which was now curled up in his chair, her head hidden somewhere beneath her body.
Draco knew bloody well that he was just searching for ways to avoid looking at him. Some Gryffindor he was.
"Well, you already did. The polite thing would be to stay for dinner, now," Draco said, trying to appear at least a bit friendly. "Besides, you shouldn't wake her now, anyway."
Potter came over reluctantly, but then he merely picked at his food listlessly.
"What's wrong now?" Draco sighed.
"Nothing. I'm just not that hungry," Potter said blankly.
"You said you were starving!"
"Well, I'm not anymore."
Just then, there was the sound of paws on the stairs and before Draco could tell Potter how stupid he was, Aurelius came in. He didn't even seem to register that there was a snake in his territory, but walked right past her and jumped onto the sofa next to Potter, who instantly started to tickle his favourite spot between the ears. Aurelius' tail was working overtime. When his ears were apparently satisfied, the golden retriever rolled over and presented his belly.
"That little whore," Draco said, rolling his eyes.
"They say that dogs and their owners are often alike," Potter mused, apparently already in far better spirits than he had been all evening. "But I really don't see it. He's much friendlier than you are."
Draco flung a spring roll at Potter, who couldn't catch it, because both his hands were busy rubbing Aurelius' belly. It hit his chest and Aurelius caught it in his mouth expertly, whacking Potter in the face with his upside-down tail.
"That's a good boy," Draco said praisingly.
Potter leaned over and, fast as lightning, stole his last spring roll in retaliation.
"Hey, stop stealing my food!"
"There's no way you can eat all that by yourself!" Potter exclaimed, gesturing at the containers that were still on his kitchen table. "Why did you even order all that stuff?"
"I like to take the leftovers to work," Draco lied.
He sure as hell wasn't about to tell Potter that the delivery boys always looked at him pityingly whenever he ordered just for himself. It was, after all, a small neighbourhood and he was sure people talked amongst themselves about Draco Malfoy, the eternal bachelor.
Mrs. Capitelli had tried to set him up with her granddaughter more than once, until Draco had just up and told her that he fancied men, thank you very much. She hadn't tried advertising her granddaughter after that, but was now constantly telling him about men she suspected to be gay – Mrs. Waverly from her Bridge Club had a nephew who wore an earring, for example. Also, her other granddaughter was apparently a lesbian. Draco didn't know why he needed to know that. He was pretty sure she didn't want to date him.
"Reasonable," Potter agreed. "The food there is disgusting."
He had taken up his plate again and was shovelling food into his mouth. Draco debated making a snide remark, but ultimately decided against it. He was trying to get on Potter's good side, for fuck's sake.
"So, the food is the reason you always bail when I try to have you admitted?" Draco asked instead, knowing that it sure as hell was not.
"Yeah, why not," Potter said and then, as subtle as a Bludger to the face, immediately changed the subject. "How did you come to own a golden retriever?"
Draco looked at Aurelius fondly, who was now splayed across Potter's lap. "He was training to be a service dog for the neighbours' daughter, but failed miserably. He knows all the tricks, but he just does them whenever he feels like it," Draco explained. "So, I took the loser in."
"Aw, that's really touching," Potter said, looking at him doe-eyed, clearly mocking him. "Don't tell me Draco Malfoy has a heart?"
"Don't tell," Draco said seriously, trying to memorise the way his name had sounded coming from Potter's mouth. And wasn't he just pathetic?
Potter mimed locking his mouth and then swallowing the key, which didn't even make sense.
"No wonder you don't ever shut up," Draco laughed. "Can't even shut your trap properly."
"Well, keeping quiet never got me anywhere!"
"And running your mouth did?"
"I'd like to think so," Potter pensively. "I can't think of anything right now, but I'll get back to you."
"No need, I remember now," Draco grinned. "It was detention."
Potter seemed to think the best way to punish him was to steal his food. Draco was left to stare at the spot where his fortune cookie had been seconds before.
"Hey, it's bad luck to take another man's fortune cookie!" he complained, holding out his hand as Potter tore open the wrapper.
Potter held his gaze and licked the cookie once, then held the wet cookie out to him.
"Still want it?" Potter offered, grinning deviously.
Draco had the sudden urge to grab him and wipe that stupid look from his face. Preferably with his tongue. Give back as you were given, and all that. But he wouldn't do that, of course. He was a Malfoy and a Malfoy always kept his temper. He contented himself to get up and search the plastic bags instead.
"I'll just eat yours, there you have it." Draco smirked to himself as he searched.
Potter just watched him, grin still firmly in place. "You do that."
"Did you take the other one too?" Draco asked incredulously, turning the bags inside out.
"Didn't have to," Potter grinned. "The kid apologised profusely, because they only gave you one. They've got you all figured out."
"You knowingly ate the only fortune cookie?"
"Yep," Potter said, popping the p.
"How positively Slytherin of you."
"You take that right back!" Potter said, pointing a finger at him. He'd probably jumped to his feet as well, had Aurelius not been there. That was definitely a service the dog was doing him.
"I do take it back. No Slytherin would have manners this appalling," Draco conceded, settling into the armchair opposite Potter.
"There, you can have the fortune." Potter slid it across the coffee table. "That's selfless, right?"
"That's calculating, which is a very Slytherin quality," Draco disagreed, unfolding the paper while Potter rolled his eyes and huffed.
"'Help, I'm being held prisoner in a Chinese cookie factory'," Draco read out loud, handing it back to Potter. "I think that's addressed to your hero complex."
"I'll get to that later," Potter said, pocketing the tiny paper.
They were silent for a few moments, both busy cleaning their plates. When he was finished, Draco pulled his legs onto the arm chair while Potter stretched himself out next to Aurelius, stroking his fur lazily.
"Ever thought about getting a dog?" Draco asked, watching Aurelius blink sleepily.
"Can't. I've got a snake now, haven't I?" Potter murmured over the crackle of the fireplace.
"Potter, you can't keep a deadly serpent as your pet."
"Too late," Potter said simply, looking over at the snake fondly.
Draco knew he couldn't win this one and decided to count his losses. He turned his body sideways, letting his legs hang over the arm rest. His feet were now dangling in front of the fire, getting nice and toasty.
"Are you sure it's a female?"
"Yeah, why?"
"The green ones are usually male. She should be brownish in colour."
"Maybe she's transgender," Potter suggested.
"Maybe you're transgender," Draco replied, thinking vaguely that his brain must not be working right. He felt warm and comfortable, like somebody had wrapped him up in a tasty pancake. But that comparison didn't make any sense either, did it?
"Oh wow, really mature. My cousin has better comebacks."
"You have a little cousin?" Draco asked curiously. He knew that the Potter family had no other descendants, but nobody knew anything about Lily Potter's relatives.
"Nah, he's a month older than me," Potter replied, grinning at him drowsily. "He's just really stupid."
Draco motioned to punch Potter, even though he was several feet away and there was the coffee table between them. Potter just chuckled quietly as Draco's arm dropped to the floor, where he left it.
"Remind me to punch you later," he muttered, already half-asleep.
He didn't even hear Potter hum in agreement.
