What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 12 – Rootless Tree

Draco bolted from Three Broomsticks, feeling as though he left his heart behind in Potter’s hands. The other man had laced into him and everything that Draco had anticipated actually happened. He knew it. He knew that Potter would react that way. He knew that coming clean would send their fragments of a relationship into disrepair. He just wished it hadn’t.

But Draco fled for a different reason. He had every intention of staying there and letting Potter grill him over and over for the underhanded and devious things he had done. For lying, for hiding the truth, for manipulating him. He wanted Potter to tear him apart.

He couldn’t identify the reasons. He loathed to think that he felt he deserved it, because he didn’t. He didn’t. He did not do it for any or most of the reasons that Potter had outlined. But he wanted to stay.

The coin, however, informed him that that would have been a terrible mistake.

So Draco flooed to St Mungo’s and walked directly up to the Welcomewitch, who did not need him to say a word before pointing him in the right direction.

“Third Floor, Mr. Malfoy,” she said with a worried smile. He nodded and ran right past her.

Lucius had taught Draco never to run if he felt scared or concerned. He taught him to remain calm and collected. He was taught to show the world nothing of his true fears because they could easily be used against him. But Draco, grudgingly, trusted most of the Healers that worked at St Mungo’s and, frankly, this was really not a moment in which Lucius had any choice.

Draco practically flew to the lifts and managed to get one to himself alone. As it was rather late, most visitors were gone. In fact, visiting hours had been over for an hour at least, but being the Head of the Department of Magical Health and Wellness, Draco was not subject to those rules. Or, at least, he liked to think so.

He stood anxiously in the lift as it rose –at a bloody flobberworm’s pace, he thought –to the third floor. He did not wait for the mechanical voice to finish informing him of the category of injury this floor dealt with before bolting from the small compartment towards the semi-private rooms. He passed the Mediwitch station in the centre of the floor and they anxiously pointed to the room down the hall.

Draco nodded to them and slowed his pace slightly, attempting to look a mite more respectable.

--To be honest, I don’t really give a flying fuck.—

He gritted his teeth and as he approached the door, he saw nothing but a blur of black robes rush toward him and suddenly he was pinned under two constricting arms and, unceremoniously, supporting the figure of his sobbing wife.

“Oh, Draco!” she exclaimed upon her attack. He thinned his lips and patted her back slowly. “I didn’t know what to do, Draco! I feel so terrible!”

Draco’s pupils contracted and he pried himself from Hydra’s arms, looking into her eyes. They were red with tears and her face was shining from the wetness but Draco saw none of that.

“What happened, Hydra?” he asked tersely. Her lip quivered and she looked as though she was going to burst into incomprehensible sobbing. He fought the urge to roll his eyes and held her tightly against him, running his fingers through her dark hair and trying to soothe her. “Hydra, it’s alright. What happened?”

She heaved a dry sob once or twice before daring to open her mouth.

“I made dinner like I always do for you and your father,” she explained through the crying. “And then he told me you weren’t coming home. So we sat to eat together and, somewhere just before the House Elves brought in the dessert, Lucius went slack and… and…”

Draco’s throat tightened and he pulled her away from himself again, looking directly into her face. She was shaking.

“And then what?” Draco pressed, studying her face carefully.

“And… I screamed…” she said in a breathy whisper. “I was frozen in shock and then Sneetch came in and… and he saw Lucius lying there… and he… I don’t know how he did it but he brought him here. Oh, Draco!”

She tried to throw herself on his shoulders again but a Healer came along to attend to her and Draco shrugged her off carefully. He walked briskly towards the door of the final room and stopped dead on the threshold. His gaze was fixed on the seemingly lifeless figure lying on the hospital cot at the end of the room.

The seemingly lifeless figure of his father.

Draco clenched his jaw harder, if it were possible, to the point where he felt as though he was going to liquefy his teeth. He tensed the muscles in his hands and tried very hard to keep his breathing as even as possible.

His mind wandered to his mother, who was currently lying in a bed just one floor up in much a similar state. Draco felt, in that moment, as though everything that once stood strong around him, everything that once motivated him and gave him hope was crumbling like ruins before him, threatening to bury him in the rubble.

He took a step forward into the room and only then did he realize that there was a Healer present, writing down notes and weighing out certain ingredients to use for the right treatment potion.

“Ah, Draco,” the little blonde witch welcomed him with an airy smile. She poured a small pile of roan red powder into a thin glass vial filled with blue liquid. The liquid sizzled and bubbled for a moment before turning a clear, bright gold. “Have a good evening?”

“No, Luna,” he answered curtly. “Not really.”

“Of course,” she responded rather too brightly for the situation. “My apologies.”

She walked over to Lucius and tipped the gold liquid into his mouth. Draco thought he could see it run immediately into his veins and the colour on his father’s face improved and slowly started to return to his usual complexion.

While Draco knew her to be exceptionally eccentric, Luna Lovegood was possibly the most talented Healer at St Mungo’s. Or at least when dealing with the patients on this particular floor. She had discovered very rare and unusual creatures during her first years out of Hogwarts and, using her unique knowledge of these creatures, managed to create new potions, antidotes and salves to treat a variety of previously incurable diseases. Draco had fought to get her hired at St Mungo’s during his first year working in the Department. Many thought him to be mad due to Luna’s… unorthodox ways of practicing healing magic, but the reward was quite worth the peculiarity of her behaviour.

When he began working, Draco got close to everyone he could at the hospital, but many of them continued to address him as ‘Mr. Malfoy’. Luna, however, was the only Healer who opted to call him Draco and he found, for some reason, that he did not mind at all.

“What’s wrong him?” he finally asked, foregoing all professional language in favour of simplicity. He walked up to his father’s bed and let his eyes fall on his sleeping face.

“I’ve given him an antidote laced with Faerie-Gnome sheddings,” she explained as though her comment made perfect sense. “That should undo much of the damage to his blood vessels, but as of yet I’m still working on a potion to reverse the effects done to his organs. I think that using powdered root of monkshood with a mix of Kelpie bile and horn of Monogamous Billythug should do it.”

Draco blinked once or twice, trying to sort the useless information from the rubbish and realized that she had not actually answered his question.

“Damage to his blood vessels and organs?” Draco repeated in confusion. “Luna, what exactly happened to him?”

She looked up at Draco with her wide blue eyes. He was strongly reminded of looking at the moon, though pushed the idea aside. She gave him an odd smile.

“Why, he was poisoned of course,” she said quite bluntly. Draco froze. “Why do you think he’s been placed on the third floor?”

He found that he couldn’t move. He could hardly breathe as his mind raced and put the events of the past few days together. He thought of everything and anything that could account for this. He thought of everyone and anyone that might want to poison his father and kill him. But there was no reason to want Lucius Malfoy dead. Not anymore. Not now that Draco was head of the estate. Unless you counted the Anti-Pureblood groups. Those were always volatile people.

“What poison?” he asked, all of the vigor gone from his voice. He felt as though he had been emptied of blood, bone and sinew, standing solely from the sheer will of his mind.

“It was a very advanced potion,” Luna responded knowingly. She picked up some furry-looking leaves from the table and began to shred them. A thick pus-like ooze began to bleed from them and they shrieked as though they were still alive. Draco reminded himself that they probably were. “It was difficult to identify. This isn’t the kind of poison one learns about at Hogwarts. Eastern Europeans deal more with this kind of thing. It’s a mix of Basilisk venom and Acromantula poison, along with Iocain Powder and Tourgrout Thorns. Probably some Uruflint eyes as well. But that’s just speculation.”

Draco’s head was spinning from the bombardment of information. He, once again, tried to sort out the bollocks from the information that might lead him somewhere. He ran a hand distractedly through his hair.

“And how do you administer this poison?” he pressed, trying to keep his head on straight and fight of a migraine.

“Well, normally orally, though,” she hesitated, her orb-like eyes trained on Draco’s chest. “It can also be administered through open wounds or sexual organs.” She looked back up at his face briefly. “I, myself, would first consider the tampering of food, as the poison is tasteless and colourless.”

Draco nodded. His eyes were a venomous hue and, if it were possible, the floor and walls would have melted under the power of his gaze.

“Will he be alright?” he asked pathetically, knowing that it was a stupid thing to ask.

“I am doing my best, Draco,” she told him, softly squeezing his arm to reassure him. “He should be fine, but this is going to be very hard. He isn’t as young as he used to be and the recovery process will be intensive.”

Draco smiled weakly.

“No challenge too great for a Malfoy,” he whispered dispassionately. She gave him a bright smile and nodded.

“You should get home,” she told him quietly. “And rest. Healer’s orders.” She looked back at Lucius for a moment. “I’ll take good care of him. He’s in competent hands.” And as she spoke the cauldron at the back of the room sizzled and overflowed slightly. The excess brew splashed onto a metal grate and burnt right through it.

Draco’s eyes widened for a moment but he knew he needed to trust her. She was one of the few people that he knew to be too kind-hearted to hurt anyone. Pity she was so insane.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Luna,” he told her. He bid his father a silent goodnight and turned to leave but Luna called out to stop him.

“Draco, take this,” she said. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a green ribbon with a jagged black fang on the end of it. There was a triangular carving in the centre of it. “It’s the tooth of a Blind Leviathan Panda,” she explained. “It’ll help you see in the dark, when you need clear vision the most.”

He paused and stared at the thing hanging from the ribbon. Luna tended to make offerings like this on a daily basis. Draco didn’t often think she knew what she was talking about, but considering the current state of things, he decided that though the fang could potentially hurt him if he wore it wrong, it couldn’t honestly do any harm in any other sense.

“Thanks, Luna,” he told her, taking it from her and putting it around his neck. He felt awkward at first but briefly mused at what it might do if Hydra was tempted to throw herself at him again.

He left the hospital room and found his wife again, hanging off of a Healer and batting her tear-reddened eyes at him. She ran to his side the moment she saw him and kissed him softly.

“Draco, will he be alright?” she asked nervously. “I didn’t know whether to trust the little blonde witch in there. She kept rambling on about Billythugs or something.”

“Luna is the best Healer we can get to treat Lucius,” he told her shortly. Hydra gave him a pathetic look and yet his face did not change. “We should get home. It’s late and I’m tired.”

Draco took Hydra and led her back to the Floo. Once they were back inside the Manor wards, Draco let go of her and walked away towards the bedroom. She whimpered behind him and tried to take a stronger stance.

“Is there anything I can get for you, love?” she asked quietly. “I know it’s been a long day… and a hard one.”

Draco stopped in the doorway and considered her offer for a moment. He turned his head so that he could see her in his peripheral vision. She was holding a white lace handkerchief up to her face.

“No, that’s alright,” he replied with no particular emotion. “I think I shall just go to bed.”

“Very well, Draco,” she answered softly, her voice still wavering. “I’ll join you in a moment. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight,” he said before leaving.

He removed his clothes and tossed them unceremoniously onto the chair next to the hearth in his room. The House Elves would take care of them and make sure to clean and press them. He needn’t worry.

He slipped on his silk pajama bottoms and slid into bed, closing his eyes and purposefully evening out his breathing. He stayed as motionless as possible and made no effort to turn over or show a sign of restlessness.

After less than ten minutes, Hydra walked into the room and slipped into bed next to him. Her warm weight next to him was not the same comfort that it might have been. He showed no acknowledgement of her whatsoever and continued in his steady breaths.

“Draco, love?” he heard her whisper next to him.

He didn’t answer. He kept his eyes shut lightly and gently adjusted the angle of his head against the pillow. She kissed his cheek softly and then leaned back against her own pillow.

An hour passed at least. Draco couldn’t be sure of just how long. He dared not count the seconds. But Hydra sat up in bed. He felt the shift in weight and the motion. She said not a word but sat up and leaned away from him.

She made soft noises as she moved things around on the bedside table, clearly feeling around for something that she couldn’t see in the dark of the room. By the time she turned around, Draco was already sitting up and holding his wand to her neck.
Hyrda made no move to speak. Her eyes were wide and clear, projecting a world’s worth of loathing for him. Her face was set in a snarling grimace as she held her own wand at him and adjusted the angle of her head so that she might look down her nose at him.

“Drop. Your. Wand,” he ordered simply.

*****

Harry grumbled as he Apparated back home. It was much earlier than the last time he and Malfoy had gone out, but still late enough that Ginny and Lily were already in bed.

He wanted to yell and scream, mind you. He refrained from doing so for fear or waking his wife and daughter, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to.

He couldn’t think of anything but his anger towards Malfoy and how much it hurt him that he could have put so much trust and hope in the man who had played his rival at school for so long.

What had possessed him to believe that Malfoy could change so drastically? What made him think that it was really such a good idea for them to be friends? That it was even possible?

He knew the answer but he refused to acknowledge it in his current fury. He simply threw his outer robes onto the chair next to the bed and got in next to his wife, hoping to at least get a few hours of sleep.

When he woke the next morning, earlier than the rest of his household, his anger had not subsided and he felt, once again, consumed by the frustration that he bore towards the blonde man.

He hadn’t even had the courage to stay and defend himself against Harry’s accusations. He hadn’t had the courtesy of properly excusing himself before running off. Or informing Harry of where he might be going.

--Not that I really gave him much incentive to offer any information.—

But that didn’t matter. Malfoy was the one in the wrong here, not Harry. Malfoy was the one who was abusing of their relationship (if you could call it that) and manipulating him. He was the one at fault.

Harry pulled a face at the thought and opened the window of the kitchen to allow in the owl he saw was fast approaching. The bird dropped a number of things on the table before nipping at his finger once Harry had paid it two knuts, and flying off again.

Harry rifled through the morning post, sorting out bills and letters from the advertisements and useless bits. Finally, setting aside the post, he picked up the copy of the morning Prophet and scanned the headline. Once he did, his eyes widened, all the rage from the previous night had drained from him (taking all the colour in his face with it). Harry nearly dropped the paper back down onto the table.

--MURDER AT MALFOY MANOR—

------

A/N: Now see, you want to kill me don’t you? But you shouldn’t. Because… then you won’t know what actually happened. Yes. That’s my defence. Please?

Anywhoooo I wanted to mention something here. I don’t have anything against the Krum family. Nothing. Just want to make sure we’re all aware. Viktor is a good guy. Yeah. Ok. Anywho. Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!

Reviews are love! Lynching me is not so much. Teehee. <3