What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 18 – Love Taught Me To Lie

Harry flipped through yet another file, sucking on the end of his quill. It had been weeks since the news of Narcissa’s death and the row with Ron. Weeks. He couldn’t calculate the exact number, but he knew it had been at least that long.

His life at home was strained. Ginny had told him that the Healers couldn’t do anything for her and simply suggested she keep herself relaxed. She had Lily checked as well and she was perfectly fine. Harry relaxed slightly but the news that there was nothing available to help Ginny had seemed strange to him.

He and Ron were back on speaking terms but it was not easy. Harry refused to apologize, as did Ron. They were both adamant about their point and, though Harry had not seen Malfoy in weeks’ time, he still maintained his point. Because of their disagreements and differences of opinion, Ginny had also been tense with Harry. They tried to sort things out and talk. They tried to understand one another but it often brought them to a new level of tension and so Harry had taken to spending most of his time thinking about and working on his assignment.

He brought files home with him, studied his notes when he could and tried desperately to find a connection between the deaths in the Weasley family over the past seven centuries. He was simultaneously also looking into the Lovegoods and the Malfoys but found it difficult to link them.

“Damn it all to hell!” Harry burst out suddenly, slamming the file closed in front of him as his headache worsened. He removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m just no good at seeing these kinds of connections! That’s what Draco is for!”

He had said it before he even realized it. He hadn’t really meant that, had he? No, he didn’t need Malfoy. Hermione was the one who could read anything and understand the links. Hermione was the one he needed to help him.

But he could not get Hermione involved in this. The issues between him and Ron were too painful for Harry to dare and drag her along into his madness. He brushed his black hair away from his eyes and huffed loudly.

The only person who could help him was coincidentally the only person who refused to talk to him at all… and happened to be the centre of the problems in his family.

Damn Malfoy.

Harry sighed and flipped another file open to read the medical jargon that detailed the cause of death for a Weasley girl three centuries back. His eyes quickly became unfocused and he rubbed them once more with his hand.

“I’m never going to get anything done this way,” he told himself. It was true. He couldn’t even organize his notes adequately enough to be in chronological order, how was he to find connections in that kind of chaos?

It had been so much easier with Malfoy at his side. The bloody prat was good with problems like these. He could have organized Pandora’s Box if he put his mind to it. He had seen the links between the Black deaths and those were even more absurd than the documented Weasley deaths.

There was something off.

“Alright, Potter,” he told himself harshly. “Suck it up and think like Malfoy. What did he say to you all those times? You don’t think in the big picture. Find the similarities in the victims.”

He bit his lip and went back through his notes, highlighting the things that seemed to fit with one another. As he went through, he crossed off the traits that were too uncommon or contradicted a theory he was forming. He would highlight the traits that recurred the most often and by the time he was done, he had the chalkboard outline the information he had collected.

The words wrote themselves out on the chalkboard slowly and clearly. That was when certain things became more apparent to Harry. His eyes widened as his mind started assimilating the information before him. He shook his head once the words were written out.

No. No, it couldn’t be! He had to have made a mistake!

He pulled some of the files back towards him and scanned them with his eyes as quickly as possible to find an exception, to find a break in the suite. His heart raced and his mind was buzzing with the idea. He fought against it. No, no it wasn’t true. It wasn’t true!!

Malfada Weasley. Died age 7. Pneumonia.

Artemis Weasley. Stillborn.

Elodea Weasley. Died age 11. Hemophilia.

Psyche Weasley. Stillborn.

Virginia Weasley. Stillborn.

Hera Weasley. Died age 2. Hypothermia.

Iphegenia Weasley. Died age 1. Drowned.
NO. Harry fought against the papers. Searching more thoroughly to find the answer to his problem. He had to find an alternate link. He HAD TO.

Artorius Weasley. Died age 112. Age.

Ares Weasley. Died age 130. Age.

Loki Weasley. Died age 123. Age.

Bacchus Weasley. Died age 141. Age.

Lobo Weasley. Died age 109. Age.

Marcus Weasley. Died age 119. Age.

Harry looked from one list to the other and back. His heart was pumping fast as he felt that suddenly everything made far too much sense. He wished very hard that he had not tried to think like Malfoy. He wished very hard that he had been wrong, he was hallucinating, he was delusional.

But he wasn’t and he knew it. And time was running out.

He bolted from the room, grabbing his cloak as he ran off in a panic. He ran through the halls of the Department, back towards the lifts, back down into the Atrium, back to the Floo Network, back home.

He appeared in his sitting room and rushed forward. The kitchen was full of laughter and comforting smells. Harry walked in to find Ron and Hermione sitting at the table with Ginny while dinner simmered behind her. His eyes were wide and fearful. She looked up in surprise at him.

“Harry,” she welcomed, amazed. “You’re home early! I invited Ron and Hermione for dinner. It’s almost read –”

“Where is Lily?” Harry asked abruptly, cutting her off. Her brows knit together as she stared at him.

“She’s in her room, playing,” Ginny responded carefully. “Harry, what’s going on?”

“Muffliato,” Harry cast at Lily’s bedroom door. He turned back to Ginny, his heart racing. “You knew didn’t you??”

Ginny looked at Ron and Hermione before turning her attention back to her husband. Her eyes were questioning and her expression was one of confusion. She bit her lip.

“Harry, what are you talking about?” she asked quietly, clearly worried for his sanity. Harry tried to calm himself down but he realized that it was an effort for naught, as this was not a calm situation.

“Weasley girls die young,” he said shortly. They looked at him with wide eyes. “If they live at all.”

Ginny did not seem surprised by the news but her eyes remained wide and trained on Harry. She took a deep breath and steadied herself against the chair. Her face was paler than usual.

“Harry…” she began softly, seeming unsure of what to say next. “Where did you get that idea?”

He clenched his jaw and tried hard not to explode.

“Seven centuries’ worth of patient files and death certificates,” he explained in a stressed voice. “Seventy-nine miscarriages, forty-two stillborns and innumerable infant deaths in the Weasley records but ONLY when the child in question was a girl.” He felt his heartbeat skyrocket again and his stomach was in his throat, preventing him from speaking clearly. “You are the first Weasley girl to live past age eleven in seven centuries, Ginny.”

“Then I don’t see the problem,” she added, trying to deter his beliefs but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t let her. He couldn’t succumb to the hope because that would be the death of him… or someone else. “We should celebrate if that’s the case.”

“Before seven centuries,” Harry continued, ignoring his wife’s interjection. “Weasley women lived slightly longer, but only slightly. Few of them survived into their thirties. They all died of inexplicable causes. The symptoms they faced before their deaths were coughing fits, blood in the lungs, severe pneumonia, inexplicable vomiting, pallid complexions and low body temperature.”

Ginny shifted in her spot, determined not to look away from Harry. Her eyes were different now. They did not seem to attempt to persuade him into hoping. They were, instead, flat and empty like Malfoy’s eyes had been a few weeks prior. She seemed resigned.

“Yes,” she answered softly.

With the simple word, everything Harry had built up, all of his strength and determination and his hope… everything that he loved and cared for came crashing down around him. He felt himself get weak and wanted to collapse on the ground.

“You knew,” he told her harshly, his anger the only thing keeping him standing. “You knew all along and you never told me!”

“I didn’t want to upset you,” Ginny retorted, her voice still soft and worried.

Harry reeled with the disbelief. He threw his hands into the air and pushed the chair in front of him. He wanted to throw the table over, to wreck the house and take out all his anger but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. He was hurt.

“Upset me??” he bellowed, unable to control himself. “How could you not tell me that you were DYING!?”

Ginny stood taller and more resolute. She held her head high though she looked upon her husband with caring eyes. She gripped the back of the chair.

“Because I knew you would react this way,” she answered. “I knew you would blow up and you would worry and never let me go. You would have acted like an overprotective boyfriend and not the understanding husband you should be.”

Harry felt his cheeks grow hotter as he stared at her in her defiance. He wanted to explode and forget everything here but he couldn’t do that either.

“So you lied to me,” he said angrily. “And you lied again every time I asked you what was wrong! You kept it from me and pushed away and never let me close! How was that going to help things, Ginny??”

Ginny said nothing but Harry suddenly realized that Ron and Hermione were still sitting at the table. He could very near taste the tension on the air.

“Harry,” Ron began quietly. “Ginny was just trying to distance herself so that it would be easier on you.”

He seethed. He was sure that his rage was seeping through his skin and escaping him to run amok on the world around him. How could Ron say that? HOW COULD THAT MAKE SENSE?

“Oh yes, that would make it a hell of a lot easier!” Harry roared, turning on Ron. “And you knew, as well! All of you knew but me!! And you kept this from me for years? Twenty-six YEARS you kept this from me and decided it was such an insignificant detail that you’d let me fall in love with your sister, marry her and have children with her without considering that she might just up and DIE one day?!”

“Harry, please,” Hermione pleaded again. “There was no indication that Ginny was going to die. She outlived so many before her and she was in good health. We thought that she would be alright. There didn’t seem to be any reason to worry you needlessly…”

“Needlessly??” he bellowed, wanting to let everything, all his anger and frustration, out on in that one word. “It wouldn’t have been needless, Hermione! I could have helped! I could have made things easier and kept you safe and healthy!!”

Ginny stomped her foot on the ground as Harry wheeled back and forth between them, demanding more of an explanation. He glared murderous daggers at the three of them who were supposed to be his family. They were supposed to be his support system, the people he trusted most.

They were supposed to be his friends.

“Harry!” Ginny cried, fuming in her own frustration. Her face was blotchy from the effort and she began to cough again. “I don’t need you to save me anymore!”

All the colour drained from Harry’s face and all the anger and rage disappeared. He looked back at his wife, his eyes now mimicking the hollow look that everyone else had been giving him. He couldn’t breathe. His heart stopped for a moment and he stepped backwards into the hall, his gaze fixated on his wife.

“Harry,” she told him, looking anxious at his sudden change of behaviour. Perhaps she realized what she said to him. But Harry shook his head and Disapparated.

He had nowhere to go and so went to the only place he could think of. He went to find the only person who might understand and –though chances were slim –might accept him.

He went to Malfoy Manor.

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A/N: I’m actually really proud of this chapter. Yeah. I hope you like it too! I had fun making up names for the Weasleys. Yeah, those are just a few from seven centuries so JKR HAS NOTHING ON ME! BAHAHAH!

Oh, and by the way, just so you know, the ONE thing that is NOT epilogue compliant in this story is the whole “receding hairline bit”. NOT true. I refuse to believe that Draco will EVER lose his hair. Ever. Lucius didn’t. In my opinion it was just a stab at Draco because she doesn’t like him. ‘Oh you have to survive BUT you’ll name your kid something absurd and you’ll have PREMATURE BALDING AHAHAHAHAH!”

Yeah that’s what I see has happened and I think it was just mean. I’m SURE there are potions or spells to deal with that. I don’t think Draco would allow it to happen to his beautiful hair.

Ok, I’ll stop rambling. Sorry to those who like the receding hairline bit. But if Harry’s not losing his hair, neither is Draco. 8D
Love for reviews!