What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 10 – Two Roads Diverged

Harry’s head snapped up and his eyes were suddenly wide open, mimicking the expression one might see on the face of a student who had been caught sleeping in class.

He relaxed slightly when he realized that the dream he had been having was just that: a dream. He removed his glasses to rub his eyes and yawned deeply into the morning air.

Harry had been unable to sleep in the past two weeks. Or more. Probably more. Ever since he learned that Malfoy’s mother was dying. Ever since he had agreed to help Harry research the pureblood deaths.

And the dreams were always the same. First Harry was standing in a room with his family. They were laughing and talking together, playing games and enjoying one another’s company. Then the children were gone and Harry was holding Ginny, pulling her close into his arms to kiss her, but before he managed, she dissolved.

Then Harry was left with a completely different scene. He was sitting next to Malfoy, watching as the blond laughed and smiled at him in a very specific and peculiar way. Harry’s heart would soar and he felt himself smile. But then the scene would change again and both Ginny and Malfoy would be standing in front of him. The moment he reached for one, the other would dissolve into the black and if he turned to catch the disappearing fragments, that person would return and the other would disappear.

The last time he dreamt it, he found himself desperately clinging to the fragments of a dissolving Malfoy while he paid no attention to his disappearing wife. That was about the time that Harry had decided to stop sleeping.

Instead, he had taken to rereading his notes on the Black family medical history again and again until, he imagined, the solution to the problem just presented itself to him. Yet he knew that would not happen and, despite his best efforts with Malfoy, neither of them seemed to have discovered anything useful.

He sent the Patronus message to Malfoy, partly out of habit and for the lack of an owl to send the message, because he believed that they both needed time away from the Archives to think over their notes. They needed to work together in a more relaxed environment.

They needed…

“No, forget that,” Harry told himself roughly, getting to his feet and collecting the scattered notes to keep in a folder. He walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a vial of Pepper-Up Potion then downed it in one go. Feeling slightly better, he left the study and went to take a quick shower before Ginny rose.

He stepped into the shower and let the water hit him, hot and hard, searing his flesh and bombarding his senses to help shake the visions and physical need for sleep off of him. He shut his eyes tightly to let the water touch his face but as soon as he did he was met with a floating image of a relaxed and smirking Malfoy, tilting his head to the side with a sated expression on his face.

Harry groaned and opened his eyes again only to realize that he was rather aroused. He frowned and furrowed his brows, trying to understand where the excitement came from. Deciding that it was simply a morning thing, he ignored it and tempted to continue showering. But it would not go away and Harry was finding it harder and harder to ignore. Yet he couldn’t do it here… not now. Not while Ginny is in the house. Expecially not while Lily was in the house. He could will it away.

And he did. He thought of every unpleasant thing he possibly could, including Voldemort in a polka-dot bikini (for lack of a more unpleasant image), until he found that he was more disgusted than anything else and got out of the shower.

Once he was dry and dressed, Harry made his way to the kitchen to find Ginny already sitting at the table, her jaw tight and her fingers on the tips of a letter. She was staring through the kitchen window with glassy eyes and a vacant look. Harry pressed his hand to her shoulder.

“What’s up, Gin?” he asked quietly. She didn’t turn around but simply handed him the letter. It was from Albus.

--Dad,

Why haven’t you written to me? I haven’t heard a thing and I feel horrible. Have I done something wrong? James won’t talk to me either. Rose will say hi, but she pays no mind to me otherwise. I know she has her own friends but every time I ask James if he’s heard anything from you he just ignores me.

I’m worried, dad. Scorpius tries to calm me down and assure me that it’s probably just because you are busy with work. But his father writes to him often enough, even just to tell him that he doesn’t have much time to write.

Are you angry with me? Am I… do you hate me? Because I am in Slytherin?

I walked up to James the other day and asked him why he wouldn’t talk to me anymore and he told me it’s because he doesn’t consort with filthy blood traitors. I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to do! I asked him what he was talking about and he started screaming at me, in the middle of the Great Hall!

He said that I’m a traitor to our family and I’m a horrible person. He said that he hates me because I’m going to be a dark wizard and kill people. He said Slytherins are the scum of the earth and I’m even worse for hanging around with a Malfoy like a pet dog.

Then Scorpius stood up for me and said I’m no dog. He said we are equals and that he shouldn’t talk to me that way. He said that I was more noble than James any day and that anyone who dares insult their own family is clearly the worse of the two.

Then James turned on him and threatened him. He said that if Scorpius knew what was good for him, he would keep his mouth shut and learn to respect his superiors. He said that the Malfoys were nothing and he spat on him.

Dad I didn’t know what to do! I just… got out my wand and held it to him and told him to stop but he wouldn’t! He got his wand out and attacked Scorpius so I… I hit him back… I was so scared… James went flying back and hit the wall, but got up. I don’t think I hurt him…

But then he told me that he has no brother and that I should just run away and die because no one wanted me anymore. He said you’ve been writing to him and telling him that you don’t love me anymore!

Dad… Dad I’m sorry! I don’t know what to do… do you hate me? Do you really hate me? I’m NOT a blood traitor! I’m not! I… I’m so sorry, dad!

---

The parchment was splattered with tear stains and Harry felt his throat close up. He dropped the parchment back on the table and stood, frozen in grief. Ginny looked up at him with red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

“Is this what you wanted?” she asked helplessly. “When you encouraged the friendship between Albus and Scorpius, is this what you had in mind? Because I knew something like this would happen… I knew this would tear us apart.”

Harry gritted his teeth and tried not to let himself be ruled by his rage and his hurt. How dare she suggest he did not have his family’s best interests at heart? How DARE she suggest he wanted this to happen??

“Have you been writing to James?” he asked briskly. She looked surprised.

“Yes,” she answered calmly.

“Have you mentioned anything about Al or Slytherins or Malfoy?” Harry asked, knowing that James did not make things up. He was a child and often took things too literally, or stretched them too far, but he did not simply lie.

“I might have mentioned something, I don’t know, the letters were for both of them,” she defended. Harry felt his rage rise and he knew that she must have inadvertently suggested that it was a bad thing that Al was in Slytherin. Or that she very much disliked Malfoys.

Or SOMETHING.

“I have to go,” he said suddenly, unable to take it. He wanted to run to Hogwarts and find his sons. He wanted to find James and punish him and teach him that Slytherins were no less deserving of respect than anyone else and that he had no right to tell his brother those lies.

But more importantly he wanted to find Albus and assure him that he did still love him, that he would never, COULD never hate him and that it didn’t matter what house he was in or who his best friend was… as long as he stayed himself and did what he thought was best.

Harry wanted to collapse and sink to the floor and scream but he knew that wouldn’t help at all.

“Off to find Malfoy again?” she asked with disdain.

Harry stopped and forced his anger down. He couldn’t keep doing this.

“I’m going to write to James,” he said with a hard tone. “And this proves that I need to keep up my tentative friendship with Malfoy. James needs to see that his actions are wrong. That just because someone wears different house colours does not set their fate in stone.”

“What you need to do now is find James and Albus and force them to reconcile!” Ginny burst out. “Sod all this foolishness with Malfoy! Sod it all! This is just destroying us, Harry! Don’t you see that? Can’t you see that Draco Malfoy is nothing but a venomous thorn meant to rip you apart?!”

Ginny was ranting and her face turned red as her hair, but she wavered and leaned over to use the chair as support. Her voice cracked a few times and she seemed to be breathing more heavily than usual.

“Don’t you dare ever suggest that I don’t know what’s best for my family,” he warned her, wishing that he could simultaneously hold her and help her. “Everything I have ever done is for all of us!”

Ginny stood to her full height and held her head high though there was an unpleasant grimace on her lips.

“Then go, Harry,” she told him sternly. “Go and make friends with the devil, but you’ll find, one day, that demons make for horrible company. And when you do it might be too late.”

“Ginny,” he told her, his voice softening as he felt a terrible ripping in his gut. She looked ill. “What is wrong??”

“THIS is what’s wrong!” She exclaimed, pointing back at the letter. “Our sons fighting like enemies is what is wrong!”

“And what would you have me do about that??” Harry snapped, his anger rising once more.

“Drop Malfoy and come back to your family!” she demanded hoarsely. Harry bit back his venom.

“I can’t do that, Ginny,” he told her as calmly as possible. “I still need his help.” He shook his head and walked towards the fireplace. “I will write to James and make him understand.”

Without another word of protest, he left.

*****

“Yes, the watch stopped,” Draco repeated to his father. He had waited for as long as possible to tell Lucius about what Potter mentioned, but the longer his mother stayed unresponsive to treatment in the hospital, the more anxious Draco got. He was already keeping knowledge from Potter, he couldn’t deal with another internal battle on whether or not to present the information to his father.

“I see,” the older man whispered, his eyes cast down at the desk before him. “And there is no doubt as to the origin of this watch?”

“None,” Draco responded quietly. He didn’t have much time. He needed to get into work in order to meet Potter later. He had things to take care of. “I’ll let you know if there is any more news, Father.”

“Yes,” his father replied absently.

Draco nodded to him, though he couldn’t see it, and walked out into the hall. Once he closed the door, he turned and bumped into his wife who was standing just behind him. Draco, startled, glared at her and hissed.

“What are you doing waiting behind doors like that?” he asked her harshly. Hydra shook her head and lowered her eyes in an attempt to look demure but failed miserably. Instead she looked suspicious and guilty.

“I just wanted to know if you will be home for dinner tonight, Draco,” she told him softly. Her eyes had shifted to a stormy, dull grey. He pursed his lips momentarily.

“Yes, I should be,” he replied before walking off.

“Have a good day,” she called after him and Draco found the comment rather amusing. She never bid him a good day.

He shrugged it off and flooed into the Ministry, once again cursing the fact that they disallowed Apparition into the offices as he angrily brushed the soot of the hem of his robes.

Draco made his way to his office and sighed heavily as he dropped his briefcase next to the large mahogany desk. He was not to meet Potter today. They were not going to head back into the Archives until Monday and Draco was mildly disappointed.

He couldn’t deny it. He had loved every minute he spent in his own office when he was first given the post of Head of Department. Yet, as soon as Potter came along and disrupted his precious stability, exactly the way Potter always did, he found that he no longer cared for the richly decorated room. It was nothing compared to the cavernous void they sat in together discussing what united apples and oranges.

But Potter would simply not see that sometimes, the only thing that unites them is that they are fruit. And nothing more. He needed to learn to simplify his thinking process on occasion.

Draco began to flip through an old volume that he’d already scourged a hundred times before when a rush of inter-departmental memos bombarded him. He quickly looked through them. All of them were purple except one black one. He cocked a brow and picked it up.

--Malfoy,
Can we make it six?
-Harry –

The message was simple and he might have overlooked it had it not been for the colour (perhaps Potter thought that sending a Patronus galloping through the Ministry might be a bad idea), but it held volumes of meaning to Draco.

He had signed it ‘Harry’. Not Potter. Harry.

Yet still, Harry, or Potter, or whatever Draco wanted to call him, still chose to refer to him as ‘Malfoy’. He screwed up his face and tried to understand how a message like this might make sense to the dense Unspeakable, but brushed the query aside. There was no way of ever understanding Potter’s logic. He was quite sure Potter didn’t understand it himself.

He picked up a sheet of blue paper and scribbled down a short message.

--Potter,
Six is fine.
-Draco –

He stared at the signature he had left and then, ignoring his better judgment, he spelled it away to find Potter.

The rest of Draco’s day was wholly uninteresting. He briefly met Kingsley Shacklebolt for lunch with several other Heads of Department, then made suggestions for changes in various laws and decrees to be passed in order to ensure the adequate upkeep of the health care system that he, himself, had arranged. Then, just before five-thirty, Draco decided to make a firecall back to the Manor in order to warn his Father that he would not be attending dinner tonight.

He got up from his desk and took a handful of powder from the jar to the left of the hearth and threw it in, calling out “Malfoy Manor” as he did.

Then he grudgingly got to his knees and poked his head into the flames, all the while cursing the people who might have thought this was a good idea when they’d invented it. His father’s head appeared before him.

“Draco,” he said simply.

“Father,” Draco replied, feeling absolutely ludicrous with his backside in the air. He muttered more curses under his breath and decided it might be about time they invest in another form of communication. “I will not be attending dinner tonight. Something has come up at work. Please give my apologies to Hydra.”

“Of course,” Lucius responded looking a thousand times more respectable in his current position than Draco did.

Draco removed himself from the ground and got back to his feet, brushing off invisible specks of dust that might have tainted his prefect wardrobe. In his minor tantrum, Draco had not noticed that someone had walked into the room. When he turned around, he came face to face with Potter who had a frustratingly smug look on his face.

“That’s a good position for you, Malfoy.”

------
A/N: I love innuendo. I adore it. With all my heart. It tends to keep me living. Well, not exactly but anyway. Not much to say. Hope you liked this chapter! I’m running low on chapters so I have to get to writing faster eheheh. Hopefully I can keep up the “two chapters a day” thing. Yeah.

Love for reviews!