What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 17 – Cannonball

Harry dragged the tip of his feather quill across his lower lip, mapping out the letter that he planned to write Albus. He intended to inform his son that he had gone to pay his respects to Narcissa and that Scorpius was doing alright. He wanted Al to relax and worry less. The little Malfoy boy had been right about many things and the idea still irked Harry inexplicably.

He tried not to think about Draco Malfoy through all of this. He did not want any animosity to get into his letter and affect his son. Albus could not deal with that. Though, in all fairness, neither could Harry.

The truth was that he felt lost in his emotions and thoughts. He wanted to prove to Malfoy that he was not going to give up. He was not going to simply leave him to deal with everything alone, but sometimes Harry wanted to. The man pushed Harry away so violently, using insults and his sharp silver tongue to cut as deep as possible and often Harry did want to agree with Ginny. Often Harry wanted to forget about Draco Malfoy and get back to his family and his work and his life when it was good. For nineteen years he had managed to live happily, leading a calm existence with his children and wife. It was beautiful and serene. It was relaxing.

And it was boring.

Harry shook his head of the thought. No, it was not boring, it just wasn’t the adrenaline pumping rush that he had to live with for seven years while the threat of Voldemort’s return loomed and then became reality. It wasn’t the explosive excitement that coursed through him every time he faced Voldemort, or battled a dragon or argued with Malfoy.

He tugged nervously on a lock of his hair as he pushed those thoughts from his mind as well. He wanted the calm life. He wanted nothing more than a family and a job that interested him. He did not need the excitement anymore. He did not need the thrill of the chase. He had chased things for far too long and now was Harry’s time to rest.

“Damn him,” Harry whispered, his thoughts falling back on images of a tall blond with grey eyes. “Damn him and his need to get under my skin. Why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep struggling for him when he clearly wants to push me off?”

He smacked the quill angrily down on the wooden table, pushing himself away from it. He could not write to Albus now. He could not. He was far too angry, far too frustrated. He needed some time to think and cool down.

He got up and began pacing his sitting room. He let his thoughts wander freely to where they would in order to identify the source of his aggravation. Precisely, anyway.

Naturally, his mind walked straight over to the last moments he had spent with Malfoy at the Manor. His thoughts lingered on the incomprehensible expressions that the blond had shown him. His eyes were so dull, so empty, but his words were harsh and uncaring.

Was he simply grieving in the only way he knew how? Was it a matter of mourning that caused Malfoy to react with such spite towards Harry?

He doubted it. There was something more. Every time he looked into those silver eyes his heart tightened in his chest and he felt guilty. Every time. He couldn’t identify the guilt either, but it frustrated him. Why should he feel guilty? What did he do wrong?

Nothing.

Harry had been honest and clear with Malfoy from the beginning. HE was the one who lied to Harry and hid important information about his mother. HE was the one who had chided Harry for helping him in court. Never a thank you from Draco Malfoy, simply more insults and criticism.

Harry threw himself onto the sofa and ran a hand distractedly through his hair. What was he anguishing over? He felt like a schoolchild unable to come to terms with the fact that someone refused to be his friend. He should be an adult and deal with his own problems. But he couldn’t.

Something unseen was pushing Harry towards the man and he couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t try to fight it. It was something he was going to have to deal with, to live with.

He got up and walked over to the sealed box that stood on the bookshelf next to the mantle. He tapped it with his wand and rummaged through some of the old items that he kept safeguarded. Finally, his fingers closed around something long and thin. He removed it, tapped the box shut and sat himself down in the armchair.

Harry held up Malfoy’s hawthorn wand and ran his fingers over the sleek piece of wood. It was smooth and cold from the years of disuse. He briefly wondered what wand Malfoy had now, but didn’t think long on it. His eyes were trained on the one in his hands and as his fingers brushed the tip he felt a rush of anticipation that he could not explain. But that didn’t matter.

It felt good.

A small smile crept over Harry’s face as he held the wand. He felt better, somehow. He had never thought on it before now but the idea of having something that was once so important to Malfoy in his possession made Harry feel like they had a strong connection neither of them had been aware of before now.

Yes, it must have to do with the wand.

Harry smirked and pocketed the long length of wood. He was going to carry it around with him now. He didn’t know why but it felt right.

Harry mused on the idea for a moment before someone appeared in his fireplace, coughing and hacking. He got to his feet just as Ron stepped out into the sitting room, closely followed by Hermione.

“Nice of you to call first,” Harry quipped, with a smile. Ron shot him an amused look as he noticed the formalwear that Harry was still sporting.

“You dressed up for us!” he exclaimed in mock happiness. “Blimey, Harry, I do feel honoured. When was the last time you wore those trousers? Your wedding?”

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione piped in, dusting her robes off. “Leave him be. If Harry wants to dress nicely for the weekend then good on him! It wouldn’t hurt you to try looking nice sometime!”

“If you wanted me to look like a ponce, Hermione,” he shot back bemused. “You are clearly in the wrong relationship.”

“Prat,” Harry said. He rolled his eyes. “I’m not dressed up for the fun of it. I went to pay my respects to the Malfoys today. Narcissa has died.”

That shut Ron up quite adequately. He let his jaw drop and his eyes widen before catching his expression and snapping his mouth shut. He shook his head. Hermione glanced at her husband and back to Harry before looking awkward.

“You went to see the Malfoys?” Ron asked, his tone drastically different and much less playful than a moment prior.

“Yes,” Harry answered, furrowing his brow. “Did you not hear? Narcissa Malfoy is dead.”

“Yeah,” he answered. “So?”

“Ron!!” Hermione interjected before he could say anything else. “That’s incredibly disrespectful!”

Ron shook his head again and his eyes settled on a glare.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded harshly. “But what in the bloody hell made you go there in person? You could have easily paid your respects through an owl, or something.”

Harry frowned. He was in no mood to argue about this.

“He’s been dealing with a lot lately,” Harry replied sternly. “I owed it to both of them to go in person. Narcissa saved my life, don’t you remember?”

Ron’s face turned redder as he listened to Harry.

“Yes, and we saved her bloody son twice!” he shot back. “Harry, you don’t owe anything to any Malfoy, least of all that one! That prat deserves whatever hardships he’s facing. It’s about damn time, if you ask me!”

“Well, no one has asked you,” Harry snapped, angrily. “Have they?” He glared at his best friend. “Draco is not the same person that he was at Hogwarts and no one deserves to go through what he is alone.”

Ron’s eyes widened considerably. Hermione looked from one man to the next and her face appeared anxious. Harry paid no mind to her and stared determinately at his best friend.

“Calling him by his first name, are you??” he spat in a fury. “Are you that close with the prat, Harry?”

“Ron, please,” Hermione interjected, trying to calm him down. “This isn’t the time. It doesn’t matter.”

“Like Hell it doesn’t matter, Hermione!” Ron exploded at her as well. “Don’t you see? This is the problem! This is what Ginny’s been on about. He’s becoming obsessed again and you know it’s not helping her!”

“WHAT?” Harry roared, his mind stopping on the reference to his wife. He was seething in anger that flooded him from every extremity. “What are you talking about??”

Ron turned back to Harry and nodded in his smug anger. Harry wanted to hit him hard.

“Ginny’s been confiding in us,” he explained harshly. “Going on about how you’re always working late with Malfoy and how you went to court for him even after he told you he didn’t want your help! You’re becoming obsessed with him like you were when you were sixteen, Harry! And it’s scaring her!”

Harry felt as though his head was floating and his eyes were blurred. He could hear Ron’s words but it felt more like a nightmare than actual reality. He was angry and hurt but also worried. Why hadn’t Ginny told him this herself? She had made it clear that she did not approve of his friendship with Malfoy, but she had never mentioned anything about worrying for his own sake.

Always the family, she mentioned. She was afraid that Malfoy would tear their family apart and Harry had reassured her, time and again, that it would not be so. But why would she go to Ron and Hermione and speak there but refuse to discuss it with him?? He was her husband! They were married and loved each other! Surely that involved some semblance of trust in one another, did it not??

“Ron, please,” Hermione begged again, noticing Harry’s face. “That’s enough. This isn’t necessary.”

“Yes it is, Hermione!” he shouted. “Harry needs to see what he’s doing! He needs to start thinking about Ginny!”

Harry exploded.

“Shut your mouth!” Harry hollered at his best friend, his fists balled and his entire body shaking. “I have been thinking about Ginny and my family since day one! I’m so fucking sick of having to defend my every move to the lot of you!” He took a step forward, his eyes alight with his rage. Ron faltered. “And what’s more, I have been trying to help Ginny and figure out what’s wrong with her for over a month! Every time I try to get close, hold her or help her she pushes me away! She doesn’t want to listen to the Healers, she doesn’t want to know and she won’t let me do a damned thing! So shut up about it until you get all the facts, Ron!”

The redhead stepped back and stared into his best friend’s eyes. Ron’s face was pulled in anger but he dared not say another word. He glared at Harry and then made to go back to the fireplace.

“Fine, Harry,” he said quietly. “Do what you please. You’ll regret this when it’s done.”

And he left into the fire. Harry was fuming and could not concentrate on the cryptic message that Ron had left him with. What the bloody hell was that about?? He didn’t care to know. It was just Ron’s anger, just his vengefulness that was speaking. Harry didn’t care what his best friend though, he was angry now.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” Hermione whispered, giving him a pleading look before disappearing after her husband.

Harry collapsed back down onto the sofa, literally trembling from his rage. He sat in silence fore a while, allowing his rampant emotions to simmer down. As they did, Harry realized what he had done and dropped his head into his hands.

He had done it again. He had fought for Malfoy against his family, against those he loved and he hardly had a reason to. The man wanted nothing to do with him! He didn’t care about Harry, he didn’t care about how everything was affecting his family. Draco Malfoy didn’t care about anyone but himself and his own family, when it came down to it.

Harry punched the sofa and wished that things were clearer cut for him but they weren’t. A few weeks ago things had been calmer, they had been easy and there were no problems. Then Malfoy walked back into his life and suddenly everything was topsy-turvy and he couldn’t tell which way was left or right.

He felt as though his mind was splitting to accommodate two different people: one who supported Malfoy and one who did not. He tugged at his hair and screwed up his eyes, looking for a solution where there was none.

His wife was sick, he knew that, but could not help her. He was now at odds with his best friend. His sons were fighting. And he was facing a meticulous journey through more archives at work in order to know more about the pureblood curses, but he didn’t know where to start.

He breathed heavily and looked at the clock on the wall.

Ginny would be home with Lily soon and he could not face her now. He could not deal with another row and the thought that it could be making her more sick. He got to his feet, picked up his cloak and went to the fireplace to floo to the Ministry.

“Fuck Malfoy,” he muttered to himself. He couldn’t deal with any of the people in his life at the moment, so he would deal with his work.

He made for the Archives of the Department of Magical Health and Wellness, hoping to have some kind of epiphany regarding how he was going to tackle that organized mess of a filing system. He clenched his jaw and tried to let the anger ebb but he was walking so briskly that he bumped right into someone.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered briefly before realizing that he had walked right into the Minister for Magic. “Oh, Kingsley. I’m sorry about that.”

“Hello, Harry,” the man replied warmly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just stressed,” he answered in a half-truth. “Where are you off to?”

Kinglsey was wearing dark formal robes and was carrying along an arrangement of exotic flowers.

“I’m going to visit Draco Malfoy,” he replied calmly. “He’s had it rough lately, though I’m sure you know.”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured nodding to him, intent on continuing on to the Archives. Then something hit him and he turned back around. Malfoy had said that he befriended Shacklebolt and the Minister was the one to give him the position of Head of Department despite warnings against it. “Hey, Kingsley, can I ask you something?”

“Certainly, Harry,” he answered, stopping as he adjusted the flower arrangement. Harry hesitated, knowing it was none of his business really.

“Why did you give Malfoy the position of Head of Department?” he asked abruptly, feeling it was better not to beat around the bush. Kingsley did not seem surprised.

“He’s a good man,” he replied simply. “He does his job well –fantastically even –and he understands what it takes to run such a complex department.”

“But so many people were against it,” Harry went on, needing more knowledge. “What made you trust him?”

Kingsley paused and surveyed Harry carefully.

“When Draco Malfoy started working here,” he began softly. “He was nothing anymore. The Malfoy name was tarnished beyond repair and their reputation was non-existent. He started out working in St. Mungo’s, did you know that? He was a Healer for a while, dealing with Magical Creature Injuries. He was quiet and reserved and no one spoke to him but as time went on, Draco began noticing things that were not working. He saw the state of the hospital and brought an appeal before me to have things changed.” Kingsley tapped his wand to the flower arrangement to make it float on the air. “His ideas were fantastic but many thought that he wanted nothing more than advancement. I made the changes but left him in his position and he never complained once. He went on about his work as the changes were put into effect. Once that happened, no one could deny the weight of the improvements. I waited years before giving him the position, you know.” He looked pointedly at Harry. “And he turned it down twice before accepting.”

Harry stared in shock, his mouth hanging slightly open. Malfoy had not mentioned that.

“Why did he turn it down?” Harry asked, pressing to know as much as he could. “And then why did he take it the third time?”

Kingsley shook his head.

“It’s not my place to answer those questions,” Kingsley said. “You should ask him yourself. I must get going, Harry. Have a good day!”

And he left Harry in his perplexed state. He watched the dark-skinned man disappear and slowly began to make his way towards the Archives again, his head buzzing with new questions and more information than he ever thought he would get.

Harry sat down in front of the large chalkboard of the data bank that Malfoy had shown him. He pulled out his wand to tap the board but realized that he had pulled the hawthorn one instead. He stared at it for a moment.

“Why did you leave St Mungo’s, Malfoy?” he asked the wand softly. “You could have tended directly to your mother when she was there… what made you choose this?”

Harry’s thoughts lingered on Narcissa again, before he remembered what Malfoy had said about her condition. She had been suffering from inexplicable symptoms caused by a curse on pure blood. Then Harry’s eyes snapped open.

Ginny was a pureblood.

He replaced the hawthorn wand and pulled his own, tapping the chalkboard. The word ‘query?’ spelled itself out on the front.

“All Weasley files dating back through seven centuries with particular attention on causes of death.”

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A/N: Ron, Ron you crazy spazzy-dolt. Go listen to your wife sometime. Anywho, yeah. This chapter… is alright. I really like the next one. Yep. I do. But anyway, you get that a little later.

I think I need to address James right now.

You’ll understand better later why he is acting the way he is, but let’s just remember, we’re only getting one side of the story. Albus is a very honest and pure kid, but he’s still just one side. He doesn’t understand how James feels, what’s going on in his head and who he really is. Ultimately, James (to me) is kind of a hybrid of James Potter (the first) and Draco (when he was younger)… but he is also a lot like Ron. Hopefully you’ll understand what I mean when you finally face James. Harry is going to have a talk with him. I promise. No kid gets to run wild like that in MY stories. Not for long anyway.

And regarding this chapter…. It was difficult. Harry is a very volatile person here and he doesn’t understand how he is feeling or why. He’s just out of the loop for a lot of things and, yes, he does still have Draco’s wand.

When the time comes, you’ll also find out why Draco refused to take the position of Head twice. And then why he finally did take it.

I love Shacklebolt. Ok. Random. I’ll be creating my alert-list now! You can still sign up if you like! Just give me your email because AFF likes to hide them from me, teehee.

Love for reviews and happiness. Lol yeah.