Chapter Seven - One Snake, Many Faces

Harry didn't see Malfoy in the morning, and it was easy to believe that he was alone in his house. Waking up late and rushing to get into work distracted him to the point that as he Flooed to work – still not his favourite means of travel – Harry focused more on making the Monday briefing than on any thoughts of his new houseguest.

Work was the same as always, and it wasn't long before Harry was immersed in going through the new cases which had arisen in the past week, along with reviewing where the current ones were. As he wasn't permanently partnered, he tended to go where an extra pair of eyes and wand hand were needed, and as a result he had a pretty good overview of the department. This led to him being called on for more than just back-up, as he could often make connections that other people missed.

Coming home to find Malfoy sitting cross-legged facing the Black family tree, tongue resolutely peeping from between his lips, was shocking, in a way: it felt so right to find him there, looking at home. Malfoy just looked so relaxed. Harry froze, torn between talking to Malfoy and running away. The decision was made for him when Malfoy turned, saw Harry, and smiled: the smile drew Harry closer.

"It's a little strange seeing my name up there," Malfoy said. Harry looked at the names picked out in gilt on the tapestry.

"Yeah, it gave me a bit of surprise when I first saw it," said Harry.

"Although all the... old families are related," said Malfoy, "so it shouldn't really be too strange or surprising." He unfolded his legs and stood in one, graceful movement. Harry was reminded of a cat. "Today I have been learning about the Black family, and I think that it would be a good idea to restore some of these names." He walked forwards and brushed one of the charred patches with his fingers. "You know how I said that some of the wards are tied to the Black bloodline?" Harry nodded. "Well, it seems that this tapestry is the main way to keep track of it. These cursed-off names have left things unbalanced. Actually, I'm beginning to think that—" his enthusiastic explanation was interrupted by a loud rumbling from Harry's stomach.

"Do you think that I could eat first?" asked Harry. "It's been a long day."

"I hope you don't think that I've cooked you a meal, Potter. I'm not your house-elf."

"Oh, er, no. I know," said Harry. He had actually forgotten that his kitchen was destroyed, and that Kreacher was away. He would have to remember to call him, later. "There's a nice Thai restaurant around the corner. Maybe we could...?"

"Are you asking me out to dinner, Potter?" asked Malfoy, looking at Harry through half-closed blond lashes.

"No– yes– that is to say—" Harry broke off, flushing and confused. He realised that taking Malfoy out to dinner might be something he wanted to do. But that hadn't been what he'd intended to say.

"Oh, don't tie yourself up in knots! I know what you meant, and yes, I'm hungry too and Thai sounds fine."

"Sustenance? Meeting a physical need?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," said Malfoy, and his mouth curled up in a grin, which Harry found himself returning.

Over candlelight and sticky rice – but not on a date – Malfoy explained his thinking behind wanting to 'fix' the family tree.

"I'm beginning to think that the removal of some names has acted as a curse in its own right, leading to a sense of... confusion about who is the rightful heir," said Malfoy.

"But how will that help me?" asked Harry. "I'm still not a Black."

"I know," said Malfoy, "there seem to have been a few people, over the years, who have taken on the role of family gatekeeper, deciding who would be included, and who wouldn't. Each time they acted to change the family tree, it warped the wards a little more. As a result, the wards seem to be overly reliant on physical presence of names on the tapestry, along with the presence of Black blood."

Harry thought about this, and of Walburga Black's obsession with Pureblood values. "Was Walburga Black one of those gatekeepers?" he asked, and Malfoy nodded as a smile spread slowly across his face.

"Yes, I do believe she was," Malfoy said. "Excellent thinking there, Potter." A heady glow rose in Harry's chest at the praise, and he ducked his head. "Oh for– enough with this ridiculous fake modesty! You," Malfoy said, poking a finger in Harry's direction, "are no idiot, whatever you say. I see you thinking about everything you see, and then acting as if you are merely a bumbling nobody. No one, Harry Potter, defeats a Dark Wizard or becomes a Senior Auror without a healthy dose of brains and wits."

Harry shook his head. "You assume too much about me," he said. "Really. I'm not clever like you are—"

"Oh, I never said that you were as clever as me," said Malfoy. "Just that you aren't an idiot. The two things aren't the same at all."

"I—" began Harry, affronted at Malfoy's ability to make even a compliment double-edged. But then he caught Malfoy's eye, and saw the twinkle lurking at its edge. "You bastard," he said, and laughed.

Malfoy smiled and sat back in his chair. "You just make it so easy."

"Prick," said Harry, and he smiled.

They walked back afterwards, pleasantly full and in a companionable silence. When they stopped by the front door, the thick snake which formed the doorknob uncurled slightly to greet Harry again. By the time they had got inside, Harry's cheeks were burning, the snake having asked him how the sex on a stick was; Malfoy also looked a little flushed, and Harry resolved to find more opportunities to talk to snakes.

"What made you splutter so inelegantly when the snake spoke?" asked Malfoy.

"Oh, it just asked me something which the one upstairs asked the other day. I was just a little... confused."

"I wonder if they can talk to each other, or share some form of consciousness? Or maybe they are manifestations of some aspect of the magic tied up in the house..." Harry was left alone as Malfoy walked off, talking to himself. He enjoyed the view, as ever, as Malfoy walked up the stairs, and heard him go into the drawing room muttering something about his notes. Harry sighed, and made his way up to join Malfoy.

"What took you so long, Potter?" Malfoy said, without even looking up. He was leafing through a heavy book. "According to this," he said, "any motif associated with a family, either through its heraldry or via some other connection, can be used as a focus for protective spells. A little like a Patronus, in a way." Harry looked at the Black family crest and frowned.

"Then why isn't it dogs? These look like... greyhounds, don't they?"

"A good question: as I said earlier, you are no idiot. I think," said Malfoy, after a moment's pause, "that the family obsession with Salazar Slytherin and the heavy emphasis on the snake emblem, repeated throughout the house, have acted as a conduit for some of the spells; whether such a connection is deliberate or purely accidental, I can't say. Whatever the reason though, the fact that you are a Parselmouth is both unexpected and fortuitous as far as we are concerned. Could you—" Malfoy paused to clear his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. "Could you ask a snake – not one on a door – a question? Something about the house, that it shouldn't be able to know, if it only knows this room."

Harry spent a minute thinking about what to ask. "Ok, I've got one," he said. "And now for a snake..." He looked down at the threadbare and stained rug beneath his feet. There was a line of snakes twisting around the edge. Harry concentrated on the most whole one. "Greetings" he said. The snake began to move, sliding along and turning around until it could see Harry.

"Greetings, Parselmouth," hissed the snake. Its voice was scratchy, a rasping sound that grated on Harry's ears.

"May I ask you a question?" said Harry, and the snake's head moved in a slow circle, its tongue flickering while its eyes remaining fixed on Harry.

"Proceed."

"Which room do I sleep in?"

"How bizarre," the snake said, sounding a little incredulous. Harry couldn't quite believe that a talking snake woven into a carpet was giving him attitude.

"Yes, I know it's a strange question, but I'd still like it if you could answer," he said, attempting to fix the snake with a stern look.

"Very well. You sleep now in the room above this, next to the man you desire," the snake said, and it began to slither back to its position amongst the other snakes on the rug.

"Before you rest, I do have one more question," Harry said, sensing that his time with the snake was running out. "How did you know that?"

"One snake, many faces. We were made separate, but come together in this noble and ancient house of the Blacksssss..." The last word became lost in a little serpent snore, before the snake returned to being silent and still.

"Wow!" said Harry. "I think you were right—" he stopped when he saw Malfoy's face.

Malfoy was biting his lip, and his eyes were half closed. This time, it was Harry who reached out to touch his arm, to try to calm him. Malfoy opened his eyes, and looked down at Harry's hand before raising his eyes to meet Harry's.

"I—" he said, and dragged in a long, shaky breath. "I need to get back to work," he said, stepping away. "What did the snake say?"

"It..." Harry was confused for a second. What had the snake been saying? He didn't want to talk about the snake. He wanted to know what would happen if he reached over and touched Malfoy again. What would happen if he brushed his fingertips along Malfoy's arm, or across his cheek? What if he leant forward and just touched his lips to that stretch of skin—

"Potter!" said Malfoy, breaking Harry's moment of fantasy. "This is important, please, focus. Now's not the time to get distracted. The snake: what did it say?"

"The snake... I asked it which room I slept in, and it knew. It said 'One snake, many faces', and something about being separate at first but coming together in the House of the Blacks."

"Fascinating. I need to think this through, and work out what to do next. I–" Malfoy stopped talking and looked up at Harry. "I can't afford to get distracted, not now," he said, his voice soft. "If you don't mind, I'm going to look through my notes and my books, and I'll bid you goodnight now." He swept up some parchment rolls and Levitated a pile of books, and walked out of the room.

Harry was lost. Somehow, between the coffees and curse-breaking, he had begun to like Malfoy. To really like him. The prick.