Sorry about the wait! Oo This chapter is about half the usual length, because I have no inspiration. Deal with it.
Chapter 5: Three Old Crones
The next few weeks passed in a haze of studying, dodging Dumbledore, and hanging out with Draco, Hermione, and Sirius during Harry's waking hours. His dreams were filled with soft caresses, warm crimson eyes, and comforting embraces. He would wake feeling torn, and when ever he told Nagini, her golden eyes would bore holes in his own, and eventually she would hiss softly that he had to make his own choices, because he was the one that would have to live with them.
By his third week at Hogwarts, Harry had finished all of his Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts books. Hermione was absolutely ecstatic to have found someone that loved learning as much as she did. Sirius spent a good deal of time prodding him to do something else, usually something against the rules. Draco just smirked, and made comments about Harry making Slytherin House proud (Usually purposely with in Sirius' hearing range) even though Dumbledore had told him he wouldn't be sorted until next year.
Dumbledore discouraged Draco's presence as much as possible, which didn't really surprise Harry. After all, from what Harry had picked up, Slytherins where evil, Gryffindors were good, and that's just the way it was. Or at least that's the way it was according to the Headmaster. (Not directly from Dumbledore, per se, but it wasn't hard to tell that's what the man wanted him to think. First humans his age he had ever met had been Gryffindors, his godfather was very obviously anti-Slytherin, as was just about every other person Dumbledore forced on him. He was really getting tired of it. He failed to see how being cunning and ambitious made a person evil.)
Potions gave him a bit more trouble. It didn't help that most of it had to be done practical, and with a teacher watching to make sure he didn't kill himself. That teacher just happened to be Snape, who had after the initial shock, spent all of his time glowering at Harry no matter what face he had on. Sirius said that this was because Snape was a greasy git and had hated his dad.
But Harry wasn't James, and he wondered if Snape was really so blind as to not be able to see such a thing. Sometimes Harry wondered if it wasn't James that Snape saw, but Voldemort. Harry knew Snape was a Death Eater spy, or so Sirius had told him.
Sirius. Sirius was strange, he acted extremely immature most of the time, but occasionally Harry would catch him staring off into the distance, an expression of pain and loneliness so strongly etched into his features that it scared Harry. He would usually snap right out of it, smile sheepishly, and suggest an even more elaborate prank than the one they had pulled previously.
It had taken him two and a half weeks to get Sirius to tell him what had happened; why sometimes he looked as if everyone he had ever loved was dead.
He broke, and told a story of Azkaban, the wizard's prison. He told about Dementors, beings that stole your soul through your mouth, sucking it out in a parody of a kiss. Covered in scabs, with dead grey skin like that of a corpse, they were anyone's worst nightmare. Twelve years he had been entombed alive for a deed he had not committed. When he had escaped, he had come to Hogwarts, thinking Harry would be here.
He had not found Harry. Instead he had found his freedom in the form of one Ronald Weasley's pet rat. With the death of Peter Pettigrew, Sirius was a free man and had stayed to teach DADA at Dumbledore's request.
Sirius was the father, older brother, and favorite Uncle he never had, and Harry wouldn't have had it any other way.
Age 14 Monday June 12 1995
"Pleeeease? Pretty pretty please?" Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione had been begging to be let into his rooms for ever, and he didn't really know whether or not he wanted her in them. Only Draco had seen them so far.
He decided he was being rather irrational, so finally he relented.
"Fine." He snapped. She squealed with delight, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and followed him, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. They neared, and he whispered the password to the griffin portrait that guarded his room. Nagini was curled on his bed sleeping, but woke when he entered. Hermione gasped, and stumbled backwards, and the black cobra reared, flaring her rather impressive hood in shock.
Harry rolled his eyes again. Hermione knew of Nagini's presences, knew what kind of snake she was and how large she was. Hermione had just never met said snake. Nagini calmed down a bit, and narrowed her eyes at Hermione, who was cowering behind Harry.
"Hermione, thhiss iss Nagini, my ssurogate mothher. Nagini, thiss iss Hermione, my firsst human friend." Nagini slithered off the bed, her belly hitting the floor with a heavy sound. Harry could feel Hermione behind him, trembling and clutching his robe for dear life. The cobra moved across the room; the soft rasp of scales on the fur of his rug and then stone.
She rose slowly, standing nearly two metres tall, and looked the pale Hermione in the eye. Harry could feel Hermione's fingers digging through his robes, and it was beginning to hurt.
Harry winced as the fingers dug even further into his tender flesh, and glared at Nagini.
"Stop scaring the poor girl or she's going to rip out a chunk of my skin." Nagini made a hissing chuckle, and gave the snake's equivalent of a smirk.
"She will do."
"I'm so glad I have your approval." Harry rolled his eyes. "'Mione, can you pleasse releasse me? Sshe'ss not going to hurt you, but if you continue like you are now, you mosst definitely are going to hurt me." Hermione let out a squeak, and let go like she had been burned.
"Sorry!" She blushed furiously, wringing her hands. "I- it's nice to meet you, N- Nagini." Nagini butted her head against Hermione's shaking hand in greeting. The bushy haired girl ran the trembling clammy appendage hesitantly over the snake's scaly head. Nagini seemed to be doing her best now to look harmless, and Hermione calmed a bit, continuing to stroke the pitch scales.
Harry smiled while trying to covertly rub his sore back.
"Potter!" There was a muffled shout, followed by a rough knocking on his portrait. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. He had forgotten that Draco was suppose to help him study Potions tonight, and Harry had found out the hard way that Draco and Hermione did not get along. Ever. "Open up! I know your in-"
With a sigh, Harry swung the portrait open to glared exasperatedly at Malfoy.
"Yeeeess?" Draco glared back, seeing Hermione standing behind him.
"Why is the Mud-" Harry's frown intensified, and Draco paused. "-Muggleborn here? Have you forgotten about our study session, Potter?"
"Actually, yess I had." Harry said snottily, mainly to annoy the blond.
"When I take precious time out of my day to tutor you, I expect-" Harry waved him off.
"Yess, yess, your a Malfoy, yadda, yadda." Another eye roll. Harry had heard the spiel, more times than he cared to count, and as always, Draco looked highly offended that Harry had dared to interrupt his self important speech.
"If you are going to waste my time with your petty insults," Draco turned his rather pointy nose up in the air, "then I shall leave you to wallow in the mud." He shot another filthy look at the Gryffindor behind Harry. "Let me know when you feel like dragging yourself back to civilized company." He turned on his unnaturally polished patented leather shoes, and strode off. Harry sighed, slamming the portrait behind him. Why do I put up with that spoiled brat again? Oh yes, because he's the best in Potions in the year, and more bearable than Snape. Harry's temples throbbed, and he turned around to see a dejected Hermione slumped against his bed, trying to hide silent tears. Harry scowled. Damn you Draco. That bastard needed a good talking too.
Harry sank down next to Hermione, and serpents being rather touchy feely, if not necessarily affectionate creatures, he pulled the girl into his lap and snaked pale arms about her. It had taken Hermione a while to get use to his almost complete disregard for personal space, but after the few weeks they had spent together, she had accepted it as apart of who he was. She wrapped her arms around his neck and burred her face in his robes.
Not knowing what to say, Harry just rocked her back and forth, petting her mane of hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Harry glanced up to see Nagini looking rather sour.
"That boy is insufferable. I fail to understand why you are friends with him."
"I was kind of wondering that myself."
"This one would make a better mate for you anyway." Harry choked.
"Er--" Harry was at a loss of how to explain to Nagini that he had no interest in Hermione what so ever, but thankfully Hermione chose that time to lift her head and scrub the remaining tear tracks from her face with her sleeve.
"What are you saying?" She attempted to slide out of his lap in an unobtrusive manner.
"Ah--" Harry blinked at her. "Nagini thhinkss you would make a good mate."
Hermione blushed a bright crimson, and hid a giggle. Harry didn't really see what was wrong with this, he rather thought it was a compliment. Harry gave Nagini an inquisitive look.
"Humans tend to be more uncomfortable about their mating habits. Especially the younger ones."
"Oh." Harry still felt puzzled, but let it drop.
Hermione seemed to have forgotten about Draco, and for that Harry was glad. That little shit really needed to get his platinum head out of his arse.
Hermione finally managed to calm down a bit and stop snickering, but her cheeks were still a rather endearing shade of pink. Harry figured it was a good time to change the subject.
"Any good at Potionss?"
The end of the year feast was finally there, and to Harry's chagrin, he had been required to attend. He once again sat at the Gryffindor table, as the Headmaster had forbid him to sit at the Slytherin table again after that first night.
Dumbledore refused to explain why.
Harry thought it was rather ridiculous, after all, it wasn't as though the Headmaster could stop him from sitting at the Slytherin table if and when he was sorted into that house.
Harry resisted the urge to press his head against the table and hide under his arms. He was already doing his best to ignore the Headmaster's speech, but it wasn't working as well as he had hoped it would.
Finally, finally, the coot was done, and with a sound clap of his long withered hands, the food appeared.
Hermione was prodding him, trying to get him to sit up and talk to her.
"--family are going on holiday to Spain this summer- Harry? Are you even listening to me?" Harry peaked out from underneath one of his arms to glance up at her. She was giving him a rather annoyed look and he sighed.
"Yess, 'Mione, I'm lisstening." Even if he wasn't really. The spaghetti on her plate was almost enough to do him in right then and there.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Harry sighed. How did one respond to that? Well Hermione, it's just that Dumbledore is a wretched old man, you're leaving for over two months, I spend every night dreaming about the evil Dark Lord Voldemort, and your food makes me my stomach want to turn inside out.
"Nothing." Another sharp jab in his side.
"Come on Harry, tell me!" Now Harry glared at her.
"Nothing iss wrong, Hermione. Ssod Off." Harry buried his face under his arms again sullenly. Now it was Hermione's turn to sigh. She gave his braid a tug, and he snapped, sitting up abruptly.
"What?" Hermione's brown eyes looked startled, but they quickly hardened with a look of defiance. She huffed and went back to her dinner. "Ssorry, 'Mione, it'ss jusst that- well you know what thiss," He made a half hearted gesture around them, "doess to me. It'ss not your fault." Hermione's expression softened.
She studied him carefully, taking in his appearance. His braid was more unruly than normal and looked a bit unwashed, his cheeks looked sunken, and the bags under his eyes were so dark it gave him the appearance of having been punched. His eyes burned in their sunken sockets with a scary sort of dull intensity.
Hermione gave him a scrutinizing look, but seemed to understand he didn't want to talk right now. She settled for clasping his hand under the table and giving it a reassuring squeeze. It was clammy and cold.
Harry gave her a weak half smile and went back to burring his head in his arms, but didn't release her hand.
Hermione continued to eat, but more slowly and quietly, keeping her eating noises to a minimum. She glanced up at the head table to see Dumbledore chatting enthusiastically away with Sprout, and waving his hands about in wild gestures. She gave him a rather strong glare for what he was forcing Harry into.
Something nudged her arm, and she turned to see Blanche poking her head out of Harry's sleeve to give her a rather pitiful look. Hermione automatically moved to rub her fingers under the small white snake's chin. The brown haired girl frowned when the usually supple scales of Blanche's skin flaked a bit under her fingers. Giving the serpent a quick once over, she realized that the usually bright red-pink eyes had a dull sheen to them. Her scales lacked the usual luster, and Hermione wondered what was wrong. She crooned softly to the albino cobra, rubbing her fingers softly down Blanche's back. It broke her heart to see the loving creature so sick.
What ever is effecting Harry must be effecting his familiar, too. Hermione made it top priority to find out exactly what was bothering her friend before she left on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow.
Dumbledore paused in the middle of his three old crones joke to covertly glance at the Gryffindor table. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making his beard twitch, but no one took notice.