The Lion and the Serpent

Calixa turned out to be an expert packer. She instantly could tell which items were fragile, which items would become disoriented or angered by a relocation spell, and which items should just be left behind.



“You must have moved about a great deal,” Draco observed, once they\'d moved all the things to his new room.



“Not at all,” she said with a smile. “My family has lived in the same Manor for 5 generations. I just know my spells and magical objects.”



Harry was out, somewhere. Alone in Draco\'s room, Draco and Calixa sat on Draco\'s bed, facing each other.



“Shouldn\'t you be in school?” Draco asked awkwardly.



“It\'s Saturday.”



“I must have lost track of time,” Draco mumbled, embarrassed.



“How is it for you?” Calixa asked suddenly. Her voice was more curious than pitying, and Draco was glad for it.



“Not too bad. Less beatings than before,” he said with a wink. “And the violence is a lot more... controlled.”



“Controlled,” she repeated skeptically. “It didn\'t look that way when you were hovering over a pool of boiling water.”



Draco shrugged. “Believe it or not, most days over the last year and a half felt this way anyways.”



“Well.. so tell me - what is it like?” She asked again. “The bond, I mean. Is it like the Obedience Spell? Imperius Curse?”



Draco shook his head and pondered her question. It was unlike either, he thought. While powerful and insistent, the bond didn\'t pull his strings, physically forcing his obedience, it merely exhorted it. And even though Harry had full access to his thoughts anytime he wanted, the bond didn\'t enable Draco to read Harry\'s mind in turn. It urged Draco to obey all Harry\'s spoken orders, and if he didn\'t, it urged him to submit to punishment, or punish himself. It also urged punishment whenever he became aware of Harry\'s anger towards him – but it didn\'t let him know each time Harry was angry.



“It\'s similar, but different,” Draco muttered. “Strange as it may sound, I still have a choice.”



“Choice?” Calixa said slowly. “Even when...”



“Yes,” Draco said flatly. “He was angry with me. He told me to get out. But I still had a choice. I could have fallen at his feet, crawled on the floor, begged him to punish me, explained that the bond was urging me to punish myself, that I was close to ... taking my own life. I chose to leave.”



Calixa stared at him. “Why? Didn\'t you want to survive?”



Draco shrugged. “Most days, I do, very much. But sometimes, it just doesn\'t seem to be worth the hassle,” he said reluctantly.



Calixa giggled unexpectedly. “Only a Malfoy could describe the act of crawling on the floor, debasing himself, as hassle!”



Draco fell on his back on the bed and laughed. He was surprised at how easy it was to start laughing again with Calixa around.



“It was an isolated incident, anyways,” Draco sighed. “We all have fits of murderous rage from time to time. We just don\'t all have people who can magically be killed by them. And Hermione ... she was genuinely upset. She would have rescued me if she – if she thought...”



“But she didn\'t think to, did she?” Calixa asked sharply. Draco looked at her, startled by the sudden outburst of anger.



But Calixa\'s anger faded as quickly as it flared. Instead, she reached out to touch Draco\'s face gently.



“Look at you,” she whispered. “What have you become? Making excuses for your abuser. Clinging to his mudblood helper for comfort. You are a Malfoy. Don\'t you want to start acting like one again? Don\'t you want to see Slytherin come back to glory?”



Draco stared at her, stunned. He could barely believe that this was the same mousy girl, who was whispering shyly in class, and thanking her teacher meekly for awarding her one measly point. Her questions drove Draco to shudder. He turned on his stomach and buried his face in a pillow.



“It\'s not wise to want something like that,” he said weakly. “I just want to survive now.”



“Survive,” Calixa said coldly. “Alright. Have you given thought to what would happen to you if Harry should die?”



Draco lifted himself on an elbow and frowned. When a bond was being formed, the master chose a termination condition. There were three possible: free the slave upon his owner\'s death, bequeath the slave to the next owner, or have the slave\'s life ended. Calixa\'s eyes narrowed, as she saw the thoughtful expression on Draco\'s face.



“Draco. This is the man who almost killed you in a very gruesome manner. I think we both know what termination condition he chose when the bond was formed. The only question is... do you want to go to your death quietly; or fighting, hoping for the smallest chance of somehow regaining your life and your freedom?”



Draco\'s hands squeezed the pillow. “I can\'t do much fighting. He can read my mind whenever he wants to, remember?” he asked vehemently. Even talking about rebelling, resisting, made him nauseous with terror. “Besides, why would I want to fight the only man who can defeat Voldemort?”



“There are ways around him reading your mind,” Calixa said dryly. “Even with the bond. When you finally realize that your beloved Master is a lunatic, no better than Voldemort, you can come to me. You know where to find me.”



She slammed the door when she left, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He stayed in his room, waiting for Harry. He didn\'t have to wait long.



When Harry returned, Draco came out of his room and watched him quietly. Harry nodded to him, while spreading a tablecloth on the table. With one quick flick of the wand, the table was set, and the tablecloth produced a dinner, similar to the one usually served in the dining hall.



“The food looks good,” Draco said sincerely. Harry didn\'t acknowledge him. Instead, he looked around the room absently, as if evaluating something.



“Draco,” Harry finally said. “The wards on my quarters inform me that you had a guest over, without my permission.”



Draco\'s face fell, and he cursed himself instantly. There was really no hope for him, he thought with dismay, if he couldn\'t master obedience in even simplest matters.



“I am sorry, Sir. Sir, if it makes any difference at all, the visitor was Miss Cain,” Draco said apologetically. “She\'s been here before... when I – when she -” he stammered. “So...”



“So you assumed she had an open invitation to drop by and visit?”



“Something like that, Sir,” Draco admitted sheepishly. “Actually, she was helping me move my things, and my actions were purely automatic. I didn\'t even stop to think.”



“Unless specified otherwise, you are required to obtain my permission every time you are bringing someone over,” Harry said flatly. “Miss Cain is no exception. I don\'t want students sneaking around my private quarters uninvited. Slytherin students, especially.”



Draco\'s heart fell. He was an idiot to think that Harry would welcome her to his home, he realized. “Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.”



“However, it looks like your disobedience was unintentional, and a result of thoughtlessness, rather than open rebellion. Is this accurate?”



Draco stared at Harry hopefully. “Yes, Sir.”



“Then I trust the punishment will not need to be excessively severe.”



“No, Sir,” Draco said, feeling immensely relieved.



Quickly and efficiently, Harry delivered two sharp, stinging slaps to Draco\'s face, his hand leaving a print on each cheek. Draco winced with each blow, but didn\'t make a sound.



“That\'s all,” Harry informed him. “Let\'s sit down and have dinner.”



Subdued, Draco sat down, and stared at the plate with food before him. His face was still burning from the blows. But there was also the excruciating, intolerable humiliation of sitting down as a peer with someone who\'d just slapped him. Harry\'s cool, neutral formality somehow only underscored his helplessness. Harry looked at Draco questioningly. Draco said nothing, bowed his head, and ate in silence.