Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world are the inestimable creation of J.K. Rowling. I am a trespasser, playing for my amusement (and hopefully yours).
"I wanted to get you a present," Malfoy said, as Harry followed him curiously down the street. "Except it's alive, and I'm not sure you'll like it. So I had it sent out here, and you can refuse it, if you like. They'll just charge me for shipment -- or, rather, charge Father."
"I'm sure your father will be delighted to be paying for presents for me."
Draco smirked. "He won't know the difference."
Harry looked at the other people on the street. Most were locals, and did not look at them long enough to recognize The-Boy-Who-Lived walking with Lucius Malfoy's heir. A small group of Ravenclaw students did, but looked uneasily away when Harry smiled at them.
"Don't take this wrong, Draco, but -- why?"
"It's a pet," Draco replied. "Because we probably won't get to be friends for long, and I want you to have someone to talk to once I'm a Death Eater." His words came out evenly, but his voice was a little too firm to be casual. Harry flinched.
"Have you considered refusing?" he asked wryly.
"I am not a suicidal Gryffindor," Draco retorted, quickening his pace. "Odd as this may seem to you, I place great value on survival. That means I do not say 'no' to the Dark Lord."
Harry wanted to argue, but couldn't think of anything convincing. Certainly, he had survived refusing Voldemort, but he had been well protected, and his escape still a matter of considerable luck. Before he could get anything out, Draco had turned. He was walking toward a door painted like a large owl, with round windows for the eyes. Harry glanced up the shop sign before following. Cristata's Creatures, he read.
He followed Draco inside the shop. It was well-lit, and less smelly than the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley, though still decidedly musky. Harry glanced around, and quickly decided that the shop sold more supplies than actual animals. There were a few different owls, a cage of rats, various reptiles, and at least two free-roaming cats, but the groups of cages were separated by shelves of food, toys, books, and potions. Behind the counter, a pretty blond witch was playing with a two-tailed kitten. She looked up as Draco approached.
"Draco Malfoy," Draco said crisply. "You have a shipment for my evaluation?"
The witch made a soothing noise at the kitten and pushed it gently away.
"It arrived this morning. Let me get it."
The witch ducked through a velvet-curtained doorway. A minute later, she reappeared, holding a clear, seamless cube, which she put down on the counter. Harry looked inside and heard his breath leave him in a gasp of admiration.
It was a snake. He thought he ought to be annoyed by that. But it was a little, slender snake, and its scales shone like pure gold. As Harry watched, the snake uncurled slightly, then lifted its head to flick out a scarlet tongue. Harry could see it was annoyed not to get their scent.
"Perhaps you could open the enclosure?" Draco suggested sarcastically.
With a slight sigh, the witch pointed her wand at the tank, and the clear top faded away. Slowly, Harry reached out a hand toward the space.
"Now, as you requested, Mr. Malfoy, this snake is untrained," the witch warned. "It is naturally fond of human contact, but it does not know the standard positions, and is unlikely to lie still for more than half an hour at a time."
Harry's hand had passed through the space where the top of the tank had been. He stopped there a moment, letting the snake catch his scent on her scarlet tongue.
"Hello, beautiful," he murmured, just for her. He was dimly aware of the witch jerking back, and realized he had spoken in Parseltongue. Harry glanced at Draco just long enough to see the blond boy's satisfied smirk, then he turned his attention back to the snake.
"You speak," the golden snake answered, pleased. She reared up towards Harry's hand, and he brought it closer. ("Training won't be a problem," Draco was saying coolly.) The snake coiled around Harry's hand, then up his arm, turning over herself to settle with her head on his wrist. Harry stroked a single finger gently down her brilliant scales. Her pliant body felt soft and smooth.
"Beautiful," he said again, and the snake stretched out her head and closed her eyes.
"I like you," the snake hissed softly. Harry hardly dared breath. He looked at Draco, who seemed thoroughly pleased.
"I take it you will accept my gift?" he said.
Harry looked at the snake. He wanted to agree enthusiastically, but a twinge of caution stopped him. He met Draco's eyes.
"A few things first," he said firmly. Draco sighed and nodded. Harry resumed. "Remember, I was raised by Muggles, right? What, precisely, is this? What does it do? What can it do? What kind of care does it need?"
Draco deferred the questions to the shopwitch, who answered:
"This is a torclinde, young sir. They are ornamental only. They can be trained to lie still, about your neck, as they did for Viking and Celtic wizards of old, or about the arm, in a more classical fashion, for up to six hours at a time.
"They have no poison, nor magical powers." She dared a slightly irritated glance at Draco Malfoy. "If young Mr. Malfoy had informed me he would be bringing a Parselmouth, I could have had a more interesting assortment of serpents available. We have a runespoor at the main shop --"
"Harry has no use for a runespoor," Draco interrupted. "The torclinde, on the other hand," he inclined his head graciously at Harry, "is perfect for him. See, Harry," he continued eagerly, "she's a young one -- she'll grow to about twenty inches, and not noticeably wider. They're very gentle with people, and -- well, anything larger than a sizable beetle, really -- and since she's not trained, she'll bond closely to you. When they only have one owner, they pick up a bit of that person's personality, so she'll probably be sweet and unruly --" Draco seemed to catch himself, and laughed. "They live on bugs and worms and such, oh, and a galleon every now and then --"
"Every two weeks, at her size."
"—so she'll probably hunt on her own, though you may need to buy some in the winter --"
"It is advisable," the witch said firmly, "to keep a supply of nutritious insects available at all times. It can be very difficult to tell when a snake is underfed --"
Harry looked directly at the witch for the first time. "She'll tell me if she's hungry," he said.
The witch stared slightly above Harry's eyes. With an effort, Harry kept his hand away from his forehead. I wonder if she read enough of Rita Skeeter's articles to have known I'm a Parselmouth? he thought. Doesn't look like it. And here I am with a Malfoy. . . .
"Anything else to add to Draco's summary?" he asked.
Visibly recovering, the witch advised him to supply a warming device for the snake when it was not on his body, and sold him a magical one that responded to the snake's presence, along with a little informational booklet entitled Torclinde: Serpent of the Viking Lords. Draco was openly grinning by the time they left the shop.
"Stop looking so pleased," Harry grumbled. "It's scary."
"It's nothing, really. I was afraid you'd be offended. Here I am giving a Gryffindor -- bloody Harry Potter, yet -- a snake."
Harry raised his arm and saw the snake's red tongue flicker out briefly before the golden body turned to seek a warmer location further up his sleeve. "In Gryffindor colors, though," he said.
Draco laughed.
"Thank you," Harry said. "She's wonderful."
Notes: Yeah, I know... I couldn't resist giving him a snake. She's a cute little snake, though.
Chapter 16: The Trio has it out -- finally!