Oh, sure, Draco thought to himself, it sounded fun, trying to coax a snake into swaying in front of him.
And it was, most of the time.
But today was a rainy day, and so he had to deal with leaks. Drip. Drip. Drip. He'd asked earlier and learned it was tradition to use tents.
They weren't supposed to leak, but there were a lot of things they weren't supposed to do. They weren't supposed to get free and fly away and the old woman had assured him that if he was good and raised a crowd, his wouldn't fly off to Calcutta (wherever that was).
Snakes, it turns out, do not like to get wet.
After the show, Draco asked Harry to translate, and got an earful of curses about the split-tails and their ineffectual domiciles.
Blackie hid inside - which meant that when Draco climbed in (with snake tucked into a waterproof valise), Blackie jumped out at him.
Draco shrieked like a girl - and dropped the valise, which opened up, spraying water everywhere - and one snake, who tried to slither under Harry's built-in bed, which was low enough to the floor that Blackie couldn't get under.
Blackie responded by barking at the snake. Not from one direction, but from all around the bed; his claws skittered on the floor as he dashed to and fro, barking madly.
"Harmless, she calls it." A crotchety old voice muttered from outside, "ought to throw it out the window, while we're moving."
Blackie instantly hunkered down, going completely silent. Harry stilled, as well (he'd been laughing at Draco, and then at the big black dog).
Blackie moved like a hulking shadow, shifting between boxes and trunks, soft as a cat's paw.
"A snake is bad enough, but that dog's a menace." The crotchety old woman said, from outside.
Blackie stuck his head through the opening, and licked the old woman, right up her cheek.
"Blackie, no!" both boys said.
Outside, the old crone cackled, "A menace to all clean faces, aren't you?"
Inside, there was only the sound of dripping water.
Draco leaned back against his bed, and resolved to think of positive things. For one, there was no smell of petrol - the thick humidity had washed away all the exhaust. For another, it was (mostly) his choice to be here - even if the shops and houses crowded his field of view (and the Travellers liked to set up in places where there was an open field. That no longer meant "bounded by forest" or even "bounded by guard trees and a farmer's field beyond."
AN: Been a busy two years. Probably won't be updating again for a while, but I am alive, oddly enough.