What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 30 – The Lonelier Side of the Jealousy Stick

Draco stirred with a deep groan from his sleep. He turned onto his back, lying right in the middle of the massive king-sized bed in his room, running his hands smoothly over the silken sheets. His chest was uncovered and there was a cool rush of air (that he might have imagined) over his skin. He hummed at the feeling and smiled without restraint.

It had been his first full night’s sleep in weeks. And it had been good. The last remnants of his dream flashed in his mind’s eye. Strong hands running down his back, pulling as his muscled to move him closer. The heat was unbearable and yet he wanted nothing more than that. Green eyes flashing him a look of pure lust and his lips were met with another’s. His hands were buried in thick raven hair as the other was moving above him. It had been so hot, so tight, so perfect. He wanted release and he wanted it again and again but the dream had ended and Draco was still alone.

Just the thoughts of Harry like he had been in the dream, willing and wanting, lustful and luxurious, made Draco moan with pleasure. How he wished it was reality and not a fleeting desire that his subconscious loved to taunt him with.

He moaned again and ran a hand down his bare torso, slowly caressing each muscled and groove. His eyes shut and he pictured Harry. He pictured those deep green eyes, consuming him with a look as his fingers slid their way south of his waist and found their prize. He felt Harry’s breath against his neck as he wrapped them around it and slowly began to massage the head and tug at the shaft.

He heard Harry whisper his name, his tongue laving at Draco’s earlobe while Draco’s other hand ventured down past the first and caressed his sack.

It did not take long for Draco to imagine himself into ecstasy and bring himself over the edge. He moaned and panted from the intensity of the images and finally exploded, Harry’s name lingered just on the tip of his tongue like a flavour he did not want to let fade.

Then, once he was completely finished and his breathing had become more even, he felt supremely ashamed and mentally kicked himself. Not only should he be past this point in his life, but Potter did not think of him that way. He did not. If he cared for Draco it was a friendship, nothing more.

Nothing more.

His mother’s portrait had been right. He only ever lusted after things and people he could not have. Harry Potter was, naturally, right at the top of both those lists. Draco wanted him more than anything else but he was the untouchable, the unattainable.

He was the unreachable goal and the supreme temptation.

Draco cursed himself and got out of bed to go and bathe. He needed to rid himself of these hormonal thoughts if he was to face his wife today.

He had agreed with Potter that they would both go to Azkaban together to visit Hydra. They had arranged it all with the Ministry, though there was an issue of how they would have to deal with the guards. Thankfully, the promise that Harry Potter was one of the attending guests removed all doubt from the minds of those in charge.

Draco found this amusing as there was no spell designed to counter the effects of the new guards assigned to keep the prison. None at all. No magic was needed to defeat them, but no human being was powerful enough to do the necessary anyway.

Draco bathed and dressed, setting out to meet Potter at the Atrium in the Ministry. They were to travel to Azkaban by assigned Portkey and had precisely an hour once they were inside to get their answers and get back. There were endless Anti-Apparition wards around the prison and, after one hour, they were no longer off-limits for the guards. There would be nothing to stop them from attacking the two men.

Draco shuddered and stood before the Floo. He had no intention at all of making his stay at Azkaban a permanent one.

He Flooed his way to the Ministry and quickly identified Potter amidst the crowds. He was standing next to the golden statue in the centre, his eyes trained on the faces of the displayed creatures. Draco had the impulse to walk up behind him and smoothly wrap his arms around the man’s waist, but something –he couldn’t quite identify what- stopped him.

Oh yes, now he remembered what that thing was.

Common sense.

He stepped up next to Potter instead and followed his eyes.

“What’s on your mind, Potter?” Draco asked in a hiss, speaking only loudly enough for Harry to hear.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said rather than asked, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t ask questions to which I don’t want the answers,” Draco replied, taking his words at face value. Harry turned around and smiled at him.

“I suppose you’ll find out then,” Harry answered, his eyes full of malice as he sized Draco up. “Sooner or later.”

Draco could not help but hope for the former, but he was not given the chance to respond. The Ministry official in charge of delivering their Portkey (one Terry Boot) finally showed up and presented them with the old, broken tennis ball.

He gave Draco and Harry strange looks as he handed it to them. Harry paid little mind to the looks but Draco eyed him right back and then shrugged it off. Boot left without a word, still glancing over his shoulder on occasion, likely wondering why two of Hogwarts most well-known rivals (and his former classmates no less) were travelling together to Azkaban no less.

“Well, it’s due to leave in one minute,” Harry said, holding the ball out for Draco to touch. He likely expected Draco to place only a finger on the ball, but instead, he wrapped his hand around the whole thing, his fingers entwining with Harry’s as they held onto the device.

“Scared, Potter?” Draco asked with a hiss and a tone reminiscent of his former self. Harry gave him a bemused look.

“We’ve been through this before,” he muttered in reply before the ball activated and sent them whizzing towards a completely different place. The power of the movement propelled them against normal laws and they were drawn together, bodies pressed against one another for a moment before they arrived in the small courtyard just in front of the prison.

They landed roughly and stumbled apart, both of them dropping the ball. Their hands no longer touched and Draco immediately missed the feeling, but made no show of it. He straightened himself after he caught his footing and picked up the portkey while Harry arranged himself as well.

They nodded to one another and stepped towards the door. The entire building was black and shrieked of impending doom. The front doors were thick steel and blended right into the rest of the monolith. Without prompting, it opened upon their approach and behind it was revealed one of the new guards.

Vereorns were what they were called. Luna had discovered this creature during her explorations. It was terrible.

Dementors were removed from Azkaban after the final war with Voldemort. They were not trustworthy and had decided that after the freedom Voldemort gave them, they had no interest in returning to work for the Ministry, surviving off the meagre food they could make of the emotions of the prisoners. So the Ministry embraced a whole new kind of evil.

Vereorns were similar to Boggarts, in a sense, but instead of transforming themselves into your worst fear so that you might witness it, they possess you and make you live your worst fear in person. They submerge the victim into a profound hallucination filled with their very own terrors. Azkaban needed no bars, no guards or Aurors because each of the inmates was imprisoned in a Hell of their own making.

The Dementors made the victims go mad. Vereorns abuse of the madness that already lies within.

Draco and Harry both gasped at the sight before them, expecting the creature to possess them both and sent them into a living nightmare, but the creature stopped and moved aside to let them in.

Once the original shock had subsided, Draco managed to get a look at the thing. It was a black, transparent spectral creature, continuously shifting from one form to the next, unable to settle on one when it had no one to latch onto. The only thing that stayed the same were the large, blank orbs. They gaped out and seemed like lost souls wandering, though there was no explanation for it.

Draco shuddered and fully understood why there was no spell invented to fight off these creatures. How do you fight off your own fears? The only way to defeat them was to overcome your fears, but no one, in a state of panic and terror, could think rationally enough to come to that conclusion.

The thing floated forwards, occasionally putting a foot down on the ground as its form shifted into something with legs. It led them through the cavernous halls of the prison, up stairs and down pathways that wound in and out of one another. The whole place was like an impossible labyrinth with only insanity as its goal.

Many of the prisoners they passed were lying in comatose states, moaning every so often or letting out raspy pleas for mercy. There were screams and shrieks at odd moments, though for the most part, the entire building seemed far too eerily quiet. Draco shuddered again and unknowingly walked more closely to Harry. Their hands brushed every so often as they walked and Draco wanted to grasp Harry’s hand, if only for comfort.

Finally, they came to the right cell and the vision Draco saw inside was, by far, more frightening than any of the others he had witnessed as of yet.

Hydra was sitting inside her cell, her head down, leaning against the cold stone wall. Her hair was dishevelled and matted with dirt. He expected her to be in a similar state as the other inmates but she was not. She was perfectly calm, perfectly controlled and perfectly smiling.

“Well, well, well,” her voice, now raspy from weeks of disuse, echoed through the silent halls. “What brings a Dragon to see a water demon? Don’t you know this place is deadly?”

“Ah, I feel better now,” Draco shot back, though it was a bold faced lie. “I had almost thought you immune to the madness this place holds. Thank you for proving me wrong.”

Hydra looked up very slowly, her eyes trained only on Draco and piercing straight through his flesh.

“I’ll continue to prove you wrong, my sweet,” she answered slowly. “In many, many ways.”

At this point, Harry made a nondescript noise with his throat and stepped closer to Draco, standing slightly in front of him. Draco did not let his eyes leave Hydra but he had the impression Harry was trying to protect him.

“I’ll wager,” Draco murmured sarcastically, his expression bored and unimpressed. Harry, on the other hand, was on his toes and very stiff. His eyes were perfectly trained on Hydra, paying close attention to her every movement. “I came to get some answers from you.”

Hydra cackled madly and wavered forward through her laughter before looking back up at Draco. She had a hungry look in her dark eyes and licked her lips.

“Ah, and what price will you pay?” she hissed back, her words like venom to Draco. “What do I get in return for providing you with precious answers, dear husband?”

Harry tensed visibly at this and his eyes became more piercing even behind his glasses. Draco fought a smirk as he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was seeing. His eyes were also glued to his ex-wife. His expression changed only mildly for a moment as he chuckled at the absurdity of the comment.

“Ex-husband,” he answered with as much venom, and more, as she could ever dish out. “And you get nothing. I gave you everything you could ever want and yet you still tried to murder my father and I. If anyone is in any position to be making demands, it’s definitely not you.”

Hydra considered the words for a moment, her hair falling in clumps over her eyes to obscure her already shaded face. She pursed her lips before sucking on her teeth and smiling a wicked smile.

“Very well, Draco dear,” she answered with false cheeriness. “I’ll answer your questions but you’ll regret having asked this of me. There are so many better things for which you could use my debt to you.”

Draco could not stop the snort from escaping him. He pulled his mouth into a very dark sneer and stepped closer to the bars.

“You will never repay your debt to me or my family,” he told her sternly, the words dripping with loathing. “And I don’t care about what you are planning. You will never harm anyone I care for ever again.”

Hydra said nothing but leaned forward over her knees. Her eyes were glassy through the locks of hair hiding her face.

“Harsh words from such a coward,” she spat. “What are your questions?”

Draco disregarded the comment.

“The poison you used on my father,” he began simply, ignoring all social niceties. “What was in it?”

She made no move to consider the question. She answered mechanically with short replies.

“Acromantula poison and Basilisk venom,” she shot, crossing her arms.

“Nothing else?” Draco pressed, needing to know the full ingredient list.

“Nothing else,” she answered. “There was no need. Replaced his water with it. Didn’t know the difference until it was too late.”

Draco tensed and twitched very slightly, trying to resist from grabbing his wand and cursing her into oblivion for the candid way in which she spoke of his father’s attempted murder.

“Where did you acquire the ingredients?” he asked in short, without intonation in his voice.

“The Acromantula poison I bought under the counter from an old friend in Knockturn Alley,” she explained simply. But her face shifted when she spoke of the other ingredient. “The Basilisk venom, well… that was interesting.”

“Where did you get it?” Draco demanded more forcefully. He was in no mood for games.

She got to her feet and wavered only slightly. Walking towards him, she jutted her hips to the side and swayed attempting to look sultry. Harry inched closer to Draco and glared at her.

“Do you know how to birth a monster?” she asked in a harsh whisper. Draco’s eyes widened. “Hatch a chicken’s egg under a frog and see what comes out? Definitely not a tadpole with wings.” She cackled and fingered her hair.

“You hatched a Basilisk?!” Harry interrupted, his eyes wide but his brows furrowed. He was looking at her with hatred and fury and only a dash of concern. “Are you mad??”

She turned her attention to the other man for the first time and a toothy smile broke out on her face.

“Mad? No,” she answered wryly. “Not yet. But determined? Yes that word I would use.”

“How did you do this?” Draco asked, cutting off her tangent. His face was stony and he looked upon his former wife with a whole new perspective.

“I just told you,” she said. “Had it born in a dark room far below ground. No light, only one entrance. Kept it safe from the coq’s crow. Fed it and raised it until it was old enough to be milked. Loved it like a child, I did.”

She seemed proud of her raising a monster, ignoring her actual son in the meantime. It proved, however, that she had been planning this for some time. Basilisks take at least six years to mature.

“How did you avoid getting killed or petrified when you milked it?” Harry asked, taking a more active role in the conversation. He knew more about Basilisks than Draco did, that was for sure.

“The room was always pitch black,” she explained bemusedly. “When I turned the lights on, when he was of age, he opened his eyes to realize the entire area was covered in mirrors. Saw its own eyes reflected and dropped like a rock. Petrified so easily that one.” She looked at her nails for a moment before giving them both a sidelong glance back. “But no worries, I administered the Mandrake Draught to it before I left. Takes a few moments to take effect so I was safe.” She snickered darkly. “I know you must have been wondering.”

Draco’s breathing became uneven and he noticed, now, that Harry was shaking slightly from the effort the put it not to strangle her through the bars. The blond suddenly began to feel sick to his stomach and something occurred to him.

“Where did you keep the beast?” he asked softly but with the full force of a yell. Hydra’s smile was a thing of nightmares and she leaned into the bars to whisper her answer.

“In the lower levels of Malfoy Manor.”

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A/N: So I’m rather happy about this. Hydra is mad. And yeah. Crazy. But it’s fun. Yes. To me it is lol. I created these Vereorns for the purpose of the fic and because I thought the idea was cool. Luna totally discovered them. She rocks. Baha. Yeah. I love Luna.

And the distinction between them and Dementors is clear I hope. Dementors make you relive your worst memory, but Vereorns create a reality for you that is made up of your fears. If you fear your worst memory, then you relive it forever. Yes. Makes sense to me. I love playing off of fears. *cough*ahem*Daft Fear*ahem*cough*

LOVE to you allllll!