What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 15 – And If You Hate Me

Harry awoke in a cold sweat. He had grown to hate going to sleep. The nightmares had only worsened after Malfoy’s trial and the two weeks that had passed since left an aching hole in his chest that grew so quickly it threatened to engulf him soon. He nearly bolted out of bed and to the shower, realizing that the dream was still lingering in his head.

He shut the door and turned on the water, allowing the hot droplets to sear his flesh and burn away the images. Yet as he stood there, they only worsened and Harry felt more and more guilty with every passing moment. He leaned back against the wall, knocking his head against the tiles before he sunk to the ground and sat with the shower running over him.

He shook himself violently and delivered a scolding inner-monologue. It wouldn’t help at all, he knew. His subconscious was the most rebellious side of his mind and ruled only by selfish desires. He needed to remember that there was no good time to be selfish. He had a family and a wife and people that loved him to worry about.

He could spare no moment of anguish over something that might never have been.

NO.

Something that COULD NEVER BE.

He did not want it to be. He did not!

Harry continued to argue angrily with himself. He could not afford this. He couldn’t concentrate on his family, he couldn’t concentrate on his work. Every time he tried to focus he found his mind wandering in the opposite direction and always to the same place. Without fail.

Images of those grey eyes haunted him in his sleep and waking moments. The burning emptiness that dug into his chest returned full-force with every flash of the visions and Harry had been forced to get away and lock himself in the bathroom for some varying measure of time just to rid himself of the shaking that took over his body.

He finally managed to calm his breathing and wake himself up. Tilting his head back, Harry let the water spray his face. He sighed, desperately wishing he knew the cause of his personal psychosis.

He knew the source but not the reason.

Harry had not spoken with Malfoy in just over two weeks. Since that day in the Ministry Harry realized many things. He saw one of the most vulnerable sides of Malfoy he knew. It was a different vulnerability than in sixth year when he faced a murder entirely alone. It was different than the vulnerability Malfoy showed in seventh year when everything had been taken from him, even different than the vulnerability that shone in those silver eyes when he feared he was about to lose his life to the fiendfyre.

This time it was a kind of stoic vulnerability. He showed nothing of how much his situation bothered him but Harry could see it in his every move. The mask of indifference was one that Harry knew well and though the blond pulled it off seamlessly, Harry had already gotten under his skin.

Draco Malfoy was suffering attacks from every angle and suffering alone. He supported not only his son, as a father should, but his sick parents. He supported an entire Department and a hospital full of the wounded or dying. He supported the staff that worked for him and fought off the destructive criticism and unfriendly peers that kept one eye glued to him at all times. He fought his wife and faced the loss of a trustworthy friend in the House Elf Sneetch. And somehow, through all this, he supported himself.

Harry knew the meaning of having the weight of the world on your shoulders, but it had been nineteen years since he had been forced to bear that weight alone.

Even then that was a lie. Throughout the majority of the previous years he had Ron and Hermione by his side. He had Dumbledore and he had Snape, despite what he might have thought. He had support from all around even though he refused to accept it quite often.

Malfoy had no one. This was the origin of Harry’s guilt. The only people who could offer any kind of support to the blond man were the ones he had in his care. And Harry.

But he wanted nothing of Harry’s friendship any longer. He pushed away at every turn and Harry could not understand why. He had offered his support, his help. Time and again.

Yet Malfoy refused. And this frustrated Harry more and more as the dreams worsened and began to consume him.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy yellow towel around his waist, rubbing his hair dry with another. As soon as he was out, Ginny came rushing in and knelt before the toilet, her stomach and back heaving in a familiar way. Harry spared no moment of hesitation before he rushed behind her to hold her hair out of the way as she vomited into the bowl.

Harry softly rubbed her back as she began to calm down and he finally helped her back to her feet so she could wash her face. Ginny’s skin was pallid and clammy. Harry bit his lip and furrowed his brow, realizing that he had allowed her to get sick this way under his very nose… all the while concentrating on something else.

“Ginny, are you alright?” he asked, his tone laced with concern. She nodded gently to him.

“Just upset stomach is all,” her reply came quiet and meek. She was never meek. He considered her for a moment as she washed her mouth out and began to brush her hair. He had seen symptoms like this before.

“Gin,” he began slowly, not wanting to upset her in any way. “Are you pregnant?”

She turned to him, her eyes questioning as she blinked in his direction for only a moment. Then she gave a dry laugh and shook her head, turning her attention back to the mirror.

“Please, Harry, how long has it been?” she reminded him as she pinned her hair away from her face. He felt another culpable churn in his stomach, knowing that was also his fault. They had not slept together in more than six months.

He hardly ever came home early enough for it and when he did, she was too tired or not in the mood. And often, neither was he. He just attributed it to their aging and the evolution of their relationship. They no longer needed the constant physical reminder of one another’s love; they had a strong marriage and a beautiful family. They had a more powerful connection than that.

But did they really? Recently Harry had been wondering if Ginny was distancing herself. He tried to think that it was not his own doing, but every time he tried to get too close to her, to stay with her and hold her, she would push away slightly. Her eyes would always be full of warning but he couldn’t understand the meaning of it.

“You’ve been sick lately, Gin,” he stated worriedly. “I want you to go to St Mungo’s and speak with a Healer.”

Ginny laughed again and walked back into the bedroom. Harry followed suit, using his towel to dry off as he could. Dripping all over hardwood floors would prove a bad idea and an unsafe hallway. Harry thought of Lily for a moment, still sleeping soundly and he smiled before his mind went back to Ginny.

“I’m not going to go talk to a Healer, Harry,” she explained dryly. “Just to have them tell me what? I’ve got a cold? I don’t think so. I’m fine, don’t you worry.”

Harry huffed, pulling on his pants and a pair of faded jeans. He stood there, half-naked, staring at his wife. She was insufferable.

“This is more serious than a cold,” he told her sternly. “You could have something far more serious and you’ll never know or be able to treat it if you don’t go. And what about Lily? You don’t want her getting sick either, do you?”

Ginny spun on him with hard eyes and a tense mouth. The brown of her irises shifted and she almost looked as though she was about to cry. He flinched unintentionally under the gaze.

“You don’t think I have Lily’s welfare at heart??” she snapped at him, pulling on a jumper. Harry shut his eyes.

“Of course you do,” he replied soothingly. He pulled her close and she tensed for a moment before relaxing into his arms. “I’m just worried about both of you. Will you go get checked out?”

“Oh, alright,” she conceded reluctantly. “I suppose I’ll take Lily with me as well. She does love to visit Luna.”

“Wonderful,” Harry agreed, kissing her cheek. He let her go wake their daughter and he pulled a t-shirt over his head as he walked out towards the kitchen.

An owl sat on the windowsill with a number of letters for him. He opened the window, took the post and paid the bird before it flew off in another direction. He flipped through the envelopes and came across one with a very untidy scrawl.

A letter from Albus.

--Dad,

Did you really mean it all? Everything you said? I hope so…

James wasn’t happy. The Howler came for him at breakfast and opened up and screamed for the whole school to hear. I wasn’t in the Great Hall yet but Scorpius ran to get me. He told me that you were scolding James and I ran in to hear your voice telling him that he had no right to be insulting me or calling me a traitor. You said that you love all your children equally and that if you ever hear of something like that happening again, you would march right over to Hogwarts and take James back home.

You really don’t think I’m a traitor for being in Slytherin? …

I felt so much better after that. James looked horrible. His face was red and people were laughing at him. I told them to stop but they didn’t listen. James glared at me and ran off though. I think he’s still mad at me, dad. I don’t know why! I don’t want James to be mad at me…

I don’t know what’s going on with him… but he’s been taking it out on Scorpius now instead of me. He found out about Scorpius’ mum getting sent to Azkaban.

I felt so bad for him. He went completely white when he found out about his father and grandfather being in the hospital. He hasn’t been the same since. He looks sick and I try to get him to go see Madam Pomfrey but he won’t. He says he has to deal with it like a man and be stronger, like his father. I told him I would do whatever I could to help but…

James keep insulting him. Saying things like he’s just a worthless worm, he comes from a family of worms and even his mother couldn’t take living there anymore she tried to get away. And worse things. He says so many horrible things to him…

I want him to stop, dad! I want him to stop insulting my best friend! Scorpius fights back but he’s not right… not right now. He’s not in a good place and I don’t know how to help him. I feel responsible because it’s my own brother making it worse.

And now Scorpius went home for a few days. He said his grandmum died. I wanted to go with him. I told him I would but I wasn’t allowed. The teachers wouldn’t let me go. I told them you would let me but they said no. I would just have to show my support for him from school.

Dad, why is all this horrible stuff happening to him? How can I help him dad? What can I do? How can I get James to stop and leave him be?

Scorpius writes to me every day from home. He says that he’s never seen his father this way, but that he thinks everything will be alright. He says his father has always made things better. Always. I told him you do that too, dad. I wanna be more like you, dad. How can I make this all better?

Love,
Albus Severus –

Harry sunk into the chair at the head of the table and lowered his head in shame. He was ashamed of himself, ashamed of his own stupidity, his own cowardice, his own stubbornness. He was ashamed that his son wanted to be like him and he found that he was not good enough for his son. He couldn’t make everything better. He was incapable of late. He could hardly make his wife relax, how could he tell his son that he couldn’t make James stop?

He needed to go see James at school, but as long as Scorpius was at home with his father and James wasn’t attacking Albus, then Harry could deal with the other issues at hand.

He had not known that Narcissa had died. There had been no mark of it in the paper, no letter from Malfoy (though he shouldn’t have expected one). Nothing. No sign of her death at all and Harry felt both betrayed and more guilty. He had not made any more effort than sending owls. He had not tried harder to break through Malfoy’s hard shell.

In the end, Harry felt that no matter what he had tried to do, he had not done enough.

He folded the letter from Al and slid it into his pocket before going to change his clothes. If he was going to be a role-model for his son than he wanted to start it off right.

He needed to go see Malfoy now, no matter what might have passed in those two weeks. They had become friends in some small measure, even if it had been distorted by Malfoy’s lies and rejection.

Even if Malfoy rejected him… at the very least he owed it to Narcissa to pay his respects. He owed his life to her and he would not forget that.

He finished dressing, left a note to Ginny and finally, hoping that he was as prepared for this as he thought he was, he Apparated to the gateway just outside Malfoy Manor.

The sky was darker here than it had been at Harry’s home. The clouds covered the sky more fully and great shadows were cast on the Manor from all around it. It was a beautiful building but over it loomed the veil of grief and mourning in some kind of reflection of the lives within. He stepped up to the gates and they dissolved around him.

Harry wondered vaguely why he hadn’t needed to call up but his attention was quickly diverted to the pure white peacocks that were walking along the sprawling grounds. A slight grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. The first time he had seen the grounds he had not been in any position (or physical state) to appreciate the grandeur of the whole estate. He hated to admit it but Malfoy Manor was, for lack of a better word, impressive.

He walked up the passage and came to the massive entrance doors. The wood was beautifully carved and adorned with markings and artful designs. He let his eyes follow the grooves before coming back to himself, snapping his slack jaw shut and raising a hand to rap on the door.

Before he even touched the thing, a lock clicked and the door wheezed open a crack. Harry looked in but saw no one until a voice called to him.

“You’re Albus’ father, aren’t you?” the smooth drawl asked him. Harry looked down and saw the image of a young Draco Malfoy speaking to him. It took him a moment to remind himself that this was Malfoy’s son, Scorpius, and not Malfoy himself.

“Yes, I am,” he replied with a soft smile. The boy’s eyes glittered much like his father’s used to, but instead of a malicious glint, it was simply a glimmer of excitement.

“Is Albus coming?” he asked with excitement. Harry tried not to let his face fall. The boy had just lost his grandmother. He did not want to deliver more bad news.

“I’m afraid he can’t,” he replied with as much of a soothing tone as he could manage. “But I heard from him this morning, Scorpius. He wants nothing more than to be here.”

The little blond boy’s face was crestfallen though, much like his father, he managed to cover it quickly with indifference and nod in acceptance. He looked out at his grounds for a moment before looking back at Harry. He wondered what went on behind the careful masks that Malfoys put up. Scorpius was suffering the blow of several life-changing events, but seemed as calm and collected as the day Harry saw him at Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

“Is he doing alright?” he asked suddenly. Harry was inclined to cock a brow but fought the urge. He was concerned for Albus? Scorpius should have been thinking of his own family and his own problems. The uncharacteristic Malfoy unnerved Harry slightly.

“Yes,” he answered. “He’s worried about you.”

“He worries a lot,” Scorpius responded, seeming mildly displeased at the news. “More than is natural. I’m not the one he should be worried about either.”

Harry was about to ask what Scorpius meant when a voice came from behind him.

“Scorpius,” the silky drawl of a deeper voice came. “You haven’t let our guest in?”

The little boy spun around and nodded, opening the door further for Harry. He had a sneer on his face now, though Harry didn’t know why but he felt a nostalgic reminder of his days at school with Malfoy. He remembered hating that smirk and wanting to wipe it off his rival’s face, though feelings like that seemed meaningless now.

Scorpius motioned for Harry to step in and before he could actually step across the threshold his eyes fell on Draco (as referring to so many Malfoys was difficult without using first names). His glamour was down and his face was no longer swollen. The black eye was gone but the burns from the fiendfyre were bandaged tightly to the point where he treated the white material more like sleeves than a tourniquet. He wore a sleeveless black tunic, much like in the courtroom, with a high collar and black trousers. Harry hadn’t noticed before, but he was also dressed all in black.

“Potter,” Malfoy said as Harry’s eyes snapped back to his face. The silver orbs seemed to pulsate before him. “What are you doing here?”

Harry hesitated, trying to recall the reason for his visit, but the sight of his former rival had knocked it out of him. He blinked several times.

“I’m here to pay my respects,” he said quietly. “To offer my condolences and...” he hesitated at the sharpness of Malfoy’s look. “To see if you are alright.”

“Scorpius, you may go,” he told his son in a brilliant change of expression. His face was kinder and encouraging. The boy nodded and walked off calmly down a hall. He held his head high and his back was straight. He was being raised as Malfoy, that was for sure. Once the boy was gone, the blond turned back to Harry, calm fury in his eyes. “What do you care if I’m alright?”

“I did want to be friends, did I not?” Harry answered, trying to keep himself from snapping. He could not stand the judgemental look on the other man’s face.

“Yes, and what a mistake that was,” he shot back with the familiar sneer. “I told you to stay away from me. No good, do you recall?”

Harry clenched his jaw at the obviously sarcastic tone he heard.

“Why didn’t you tell me she died?” he asked, ignoring the last remark. Malfoy’s eyes were flat and his face was expressionless.

“Why should I have?” he sneered. “I didn’t tell anyone but the family.” He considered Harry for a moment. “I suppose your son told you?”

“He did,” Harry replied. “He wanted to come here with Scorpius but wasn’t allowed. I would imagine that was your doing. I know you might not want my son in your home, but he wanted to be here for Scorpius.”

“We know each other better than we thought,” he mused sardonically. He crossed his burnt arms over his chest and Harry wondered how he managed without flinching. “Albus Severus is welcome at Malfoy Manor, but the service was reserved to immediate family.”

“You’ve already had it?” Harry blurted out. He bit his lip.

“Of course,” Malfoy replied silkily. “And that is none of your concern.” He looked as though he wanted to turn on his heel and leave but he refrained. “You have offered your condolences,” he added coldly. “You may go now.”

Harry fumed and nearly drew his wand on the prat before him. The urge to fight him tooth and nail flooded through him once again and he recalled the intense surges of emotions that he had felt all through Hogwarts. He would not go.

“I would like to pay my respects to your mother personally,” he said determinately. “I owe it to her.”

Malfoy’s face was stern and still as stone as he glared daggers at Harry. There was so much anger in his expression, but so much hurt. Harry tried to sort out the different feelings there but found that he couldn’t, for the life of him, identify them all. Why was he acting this way? What was causing him to be this defiant? Harry was offering more of himself, wanting to be there, acting like a friend. What did Malfoy want from him?

“Fine,” he replied dryly. “Follow me.”

Without waiting for a reply, he lead Harry down a long corridor and deeper and deeper into the massive Manor. Harry wanted to look around and take notice of the surroundings but found that he couldn’t. His attention was too focused on the back of Malfoy’s head. His eyes would not stray from the silky blond hair. He tried to shake it off but nothing would deter his attention.

They stepped through the back doors and into what Harry imagined to be the garden. The grounds behind the Manor sprawled on for ages of green but Malfoy turned left abruptly and led Harry down a small stone pathway. There were white rose bushes lining the sides.

Ahead of them was an archway covered in weeping vines with deep red and orange flowers that Harry did not recognize. Malfoy led him through and Harry found himself in a little oasis of natural luxury. There was a small pond off to the side with a trickling waterfall over a rocky ledge. Flowers and clean-cropped greenery served to fence off the area. In the centre of the little paradise was a tomb of white marble. There were inscriptions and runes along the side of it and along the top was the inscription.

“Here lies Narcissa Malfoy: The Light Never Dies In The Black.”

Harry turned to Malfoy but his eyes were distant as he stared at the white marble before him. Harry dropped his gaze and instead paid his last respects to Narcissa Malfoy, the woman who saved his life and helped bring about the end of the second great war.

He offered his sympathies and hoped that she would rest easy with all the loved ones he had lost in his short life. Yet Harry asked of her something as well. He asked this in silence and in secrecy and hoped that she would hear him. He hoped that she would give him a chance.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Draco,” Harry finally said softly, addressing the man next to him.

“I’m not,” the answer came but it surprised Harry. His eyes widened in confusion but Malfoy’s face was blank and empty. He looked as though there was nothing left inside of him. “Why should I be? This makes my life easier doesn’t it? Now I don’t have to worry about people using my mother’s failing health against me. I don’t have to fret about my enemies finding out, do I? No, this serves me well, doesn’t it, Potter?”

There was a slicing kind of sarcasm in his voice, one that spoke of endless suffering and hurt. It spoke of anger and disdain and something so much more than that but Harry could not see it. He was angry and he was frustrated. All his efforts were in vain and he did not appreciate being blocked off at every exit.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry asked harshly, his eyes shining from everything he, himself was trying to keep back. Malfoy turned to him and his eyes were hard and cold as ice.

“Why should this surprise you, Potter?” he asked monotone and hollow. “This is just what you expect of me, is it not?”

“No,” he answered calmly, meeting the silver eyes with as much confidence as possible. “I expect better of you.”

Malfoy turned away and stared at the tomb again.

“Get out, Potter,” he whispered without another word. “Just get out.”

Harry was taken aback by the words. He wanted to stay and fight and argue and knock some sense into Malfoy but he couldn’t. Ginny used to say that the “flight” mechanism inside of Harry was disabled, making it impossible for him to leave a confrontation, but she was wrong. The flight mechanism was quite present and urging him to run, to leave before this situation got worse. Before more hurtful words were thrown like knives and something they would both regret occurred.

So he did. He turned to leave and walked past the archway. Once on the other side, however, he stopped and turned half-way back.

“You aren’t a horrible person, Draco,” Harry told him, determined to keep using his first name. “You are human. And you care far more than anyone thinks you do, but you push everyone away. Maybe, one day, when you’re alone and realize how painful it is you’ll accept that I am trying to be there for you, like Albus is for Scorpius.” He paused. “But by then, it might be too late. I might have stopped fighting for you.”

And Harry left.

-------

A/N: I realize that Scorpius’ reactions are going to seem odd, considering his situation, but that’s also because I haven’t had a chance to show you much of his character at all. You also hardly get to know Albus except when he speaks to his father so, hopefully I’ll be able to show you a bit more of them soon. I love Scorpius. I wish he were my child…. With Draco hahahaha ok ok, mary-sue fangirlism ends here.

Anywho, I’ll answer a few questions I’ve been too scatterbrained to remember before X_X

Harry was still angry when Draco left him at Three Broomsticks because he was hurt. It was a reaction to the whole situation; he didn’t think far ahead and felt like Draco deserved something bad to happen, even though he didn’t mean it. That’s also why he was so scared when he read the article in the paper: he felt guilty.

I think Harry and Draco will, indeed, visit Hogwarts, I just haven’t decided when yet. For the time being, they will continue to contact their children by owl or whatever other means they can.

Also, Hydra did use fiendfyre and controlled it. I would like to think that she’s a much more powerful witch than Crabbe lol. She’s a lot more powerful than you’ve even seen 8D

There will probably be some Parseltongue in there because it honestly turns me to goo and I love it. I do. There’s no better reason to use it in my opinion.

I think that’s it for now! Oh except, I’m going camping from the 19th to the 25th so I won’t be able to post those days…. And likely the 18th either but yeah. If you’d like me to put you on an alert list so that you know when I start posting again, just give me your email!

If you don’t feel comfortable leaving your email in a review, then you can email me at Solace_Grint@hotmail.com. Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are love!