The Lion and the Serpent

In his dream, Draco was arguing with Ron.





“Come on, Weasel! Just because you are poor, doesn't mean you need to be greedy!”



“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Ron grumbled. “I need the book to study. The midterm is tomorrow!”



“Seeing how much smarter I am than you, I'll only need to borrow it for two hours. Come on, I'll give you a penny,” Malfoy said contemptuously.



“You can shove your penny up your...”



“Enough, you two!” Hermione shouted. “You are behaving like kids. Especially you, Ron. Grow up.”



“Me? How is it my fault he sat on his aristocratic dainty ass until all the copies of Ancient Spells were gone from the library?”



“It's not about fault,” Hermione said tiredly. “What do you think will happen if you lend him your book for two hours? What? Will he magically rearrange the lines on the pages, or spell the book shut, or infuse it with forgetfulness powder?”



“All of the above!” Ron said indignantly. “And don't give him any more ideas!”



“I solemnly swear on my mother's honor that I will not harm, spell, hex, or damage your book in any way,” Draco said furiously. “Now, come on. Unless, of course, you think that the only way for you to best me on mid-terms is deny me even a brief glimpse of the required text...”



Ron groaned.



“Come on, Ron,” Hermione prodded him. “It won't kill you to be nice to Malfoy just once, you know.”



Ron laughed, all anger gone from his voice, and tossed the textbook to Draco, who caught it instantly.



“I know,” Ron said amicably, lifting his hands in surrender.





When Draco woke up, the pillow was damp underneath him. Quietly, not wanting Harry to notice, he turned it over. He wiped his eyes dry, made the bed, and entered the living room, still wearing Harry's old pajamas. Harry nodded absently at him, not looking away from his book. Harry had spent the entire night reading, Draco realized.



“You really don't sleep anymore,” Draco observed, and bit his lip instantly. What was he thinking, practically inviting another angry outburst? But Harry didn't seem upset by the indication

that Draco had overheard his previous conversation with Hermione. However, Harry didn't respond to Draco's observation, either.



“We need to talk,” Harry said, finally setting the book aside, and pointing at the chair across from the table. “Sit.”



Draco sat instantly, strangely unnerved by suddenly finding himself at the same eye level with Harry.



“First of all, I will give you a direct order that I expect to be obeyed,” Harry said simply. “You will not harm yourself to punish yourself. If the urge of the bond becomes overwhelming, you will come to me at once. The last thing I need is a self-harm epidemic among the students. You know how it is – one starts cutting himself, they all do it.”



Draco smiled a little at that. “Of course, Sir.”



“Second, you will be staying with me, where I can keep an eye on you. I have requested an additional room. The expansion spell will be taking place shortly. You may furnish and decorate your room as you please. Money is no issue. You may study if you desire, or find some other innocent ways of occupying your time. However,” Harry raised his voice slightly, “Your door will always be unlocked, and you will never bring people, pets, or creatures over without my approval.”



Draco nodded compliance. “Very good, Sir.”



“Do you have any questions for me, Draco?” Harry asked.



“Too many, Sir,” Draco said honestly.



“Ask one of them now, if you like,” Harry offered.



Draco picked out the most innocent he could think of.



“That spell you used on me yesterday – what was it?”



“It's an old healing incantation,” Harry said. “It is fairly powerful, but it's not very widely used.”



“Why not?” Draco found himself feeling curious. “Given how effective it is, I would think..”



Harry shrugged. “There are some limitations to it,” he said. “For example, it requires complete submission on part of the patient. Also, a lot of people find this spell difficult to use.”



“But not you,” Draco said, only a slight undercurrent of challenge in his voice.



“No. In fact, I found it stunningly easy,” Harry said dryly. “Will there be anything else?”



Draco shook his head with a wistful smile. Harry's smug words reminded Draco of the old days, but he wasn't about to start reminiscing about the past.



“I have a question of my own for you,” Harry said, his dark eyes measuring him. “What is it that you want?”



Draco sighed deeply.



“Sir - two years ago, I wanted to rule the world. Six months ago, I wanted to graduate. Now... I just want to survive.”



Harry nodded, not seeming surprised by Draco's answer.



“Go collect your things,” Harry said. “Your room should be ready in half an hour.” His voice softened slightly as he said, “I expect that it will take you some time to adjust to this. I don't expect perfection, or remorse. But I do expect obedience and loyalty – those are non-negotiable, if you want to enhance your chances of survival.”



“Of course, Sir,” Draco nodded. He left quickly, eager to get away from Harry's dark, cold gaze.



When he walked out of Harry's quarters, he saw a small familiar figure standing outside, leaning against the wall. The long straight blond hair and the green-silver scarf made him smile even before she extended her hand to him.



“Miss Cain,” Draco whispered, squeezing her hand desperately. He wanted to thank her, tell her so much, ask her so much. But all he could do was hold her hand.



“My first name is Calixa,” she said quietly. “My friends call me Cali.”



“Cali,” Draco repeated, still holding her hand, as if afraid to let her go. There was something so maddeningly, achingly real and human about the simple act of holding a hand of someone who didn't have any personal reason to hate him.



“I wanted to apologize, Mr. Malfoy,” she said quietly, “For my... rudeness towards you in class.”



“Oh,” Draco shrugged. “It was... well.. it was nothing.”



“I embarrassed you while you were in an already vulnerable position,” Calixa said. “There was no reason for that.”



“But then you saved me from a gruesome death... I would say those two things cancel each other out.”



Calixa laughed quietly, and her fingers caressed the inside of Draco's palm.



Where has she been for the last 18 months? Draco wondered. If only he had met her sooner. If only just once she had offered an encouraging word, or a comforting touch. If only she had acknowledged what was happening to him. Draco wouldn't have sold himself to Harry in exchange for his dubious protection. Draco would have gritted his teeth and kept going. Or maybe he would have run away, carrying the memory of her kindness with him.



He must have asked this question, or a part of it, out loud, because Calixa replied:



“I've been around, Mr. Malfoy. I've seen a great deal. I just never stood up for you. I never tried to approach you, either. In fact, I never even as much as slowed my pace when I saw you being tormented. You see, it was safer for me that way.”



Draco opened his eyes and stared at her, stunned by her candor.



“Of course,” he said numbly, her hand still in his. “That makes sense.”



She shot him a cold look



“I've adjusted to the new way of life. You do know what they say now about the Gryffindor and the Slytherin?” she asked, her voice ringing with defiance. “Used to be that the Gryffindor was for the valiant and the noble, and Slytherin, for the ambitious and the proud... Now, it is said, Gryffindor is for the vindictive and the violent, and Slytherin, for the scared and the abused. Of course, not many say this sort of thing out loud.”



Without waiting for his response, she slipped her hand out of his, and started walking away.



“Calixa,” Draco called. She stopped without turning around.



“I need to move my belongings from my dorm room to Mr. Potter's place. If you have some time... would you care to help me pack?”



----------------------------to be continued



So thankful for all the feedback/reviews. By the way, no, I don't have the story finished yet, but I do have about a few more chapters written already.