What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 32 – Tell Me If You Want Me To Lie

Draco, himself, could not possibly explain the logic behind his actions if he tried. He could not have done it if his life depended on it and, being Draco Malfoy, that had to be saying something.

But, in that moment where his heart soared and some better qualified organ than his brain took control of his actions, Draco did not care.

He kissed Harry and let his lips coax the other man’s mouth open to grant easy access to his tongue. He, without knowing much what he was doing, his tongue probed into Harry’s mouth to taste him more fully. He angled his head back and pressed his tongue in deeper, fighting with Harry’s tongue as he did. It was at this point that he realized it.

Harry was actually kissing him back.

After a few moments of daft shock, Potter seemed to have woken up and was playing an active part in the embrace, pushing his own tongue back against Draco’s. He even allowed his hands to roam up to cup Draco’s face as their mouths pressed hungrily against one another.

And, just for that moment, Draco did not care about the screaming sirens in his head, telling him he needed to stop now. They screamed for him to slow it down, to pull back and move on as though it had been nothing more than a peck on the cheek, but Draco did not want to. His brain did not control him. Something else did.

But regardless of what part of Draco’s anatomy was currently ruling over him, Harry had decided to heed his own warnings and he pulled away very abruptly. Draco flinched unnoticeably, wishing this was not the case and expecting the onslaught of hexes or verbal abuse or else the painful silence that held more pain than the other two combined. But it did not happen that way.

Harry did not get up and run away, nor did he punch Draco or curse him. He simply stared directly into Draco’s eyes, searching for something he could not understand. The green eyes were wide and his lips were swollen, slightly parted. His cheeks were red and he looked shocked, appalled, wanton and comfortable in some warped mess of feelings.

And, once he had seen Harry’s face, Draco could not deny that he felt much the same way. He had been stupid to kiss him that way, without warning, without inciting, without promise of more. It was far too soon, he knew it. He must have been. It was far too soon.

“Why did you bring the flower arrangement to the funeral?” Harry asked, his voice breathy but the question did not chime with the situation. Draco’s expression bypassed hurt and went straight to puzzled.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, wondering if Harry was living in some alternate reality where these things made sense to ask. It was an awkward moment, yes, but ignore it completely? And without even removing himself from atop Draco?

Potter was mad.

“You said that Scorpius wanted it to be perfect,” he went on as though this made perfect sense. “But you didn’t say it was his idea to offer the thing. You could have easily shown up without the flowers and it would have been just as polite. But you contributed a massive and very meaningful arrangement to the memory of a person you hated. Why?”

Draco’s mind buzzed as he stared at Harry with mingled confusion and displeasure. Really? Was this the moment?

Why had Harry suddenly decided now was the best time to ask such a pointless question? Was it necessary? No. Was it well-placed? No.

Surely this must be Weasley’s doing.

Draco tried not to frown and kept a mildly comfortable face on. However, it was difficult to manage as, at this point, Harry’s weight on him was no longer comforting and exciting but rather crushing.

“I realize that,” he answered softly, his voice still managing to be soothing without sounding false. “I know we never got on. I brought the flowers for several reasons.” He paused, hesitating on whether or not he should touch Harry’s face the way he wanted to or not. He decided on not. “Mainly to support you, to offer what I could for you,” he paused again looking deep into Harry’s eyes to try and force him to understand his meaning. “But also as a final apology to her.”

--Not to mention my final taunt to her. Check and Mate.—

“You did that for me?” he asked softly, his tone meek but his eyes piercing. Draco smiled genuinely and nodded.

“You don’t believe it,” he added, wanting badly to brush Harry’s hair from his face but he refrained. He supposed that now was about the time he should hand over control of his actions back to his brain and heed the warnings.

Harry sat up at this point and rolled off of Draco leaning against one knee on the ground. Draco sighed inwardly and got up as well, finding it rather odd that they had been on the ground for so long and yet it had not occurred to him. Now that his mind had other things to consider besides Harry, he was rather appalled by the idea.

“It’s not that,” he said quietly, looking directly at Draco with no defiance, but no fear. “There are just so many things I still don’t know about you. You keep everything so hidden.” He hesitated. “I defended you to my friends so often but I don’t really know for sure if what they say is false. I can only feel that it is.”

Draco wished that Potter would simply trust his feelings and not tread on ground that was this unstable, but he knew that Harry Potter was stubborn as a mule and thrice as determined.

“What haven’t I told you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding accusatory. Harry tensed slightly.

“You’ve never told me how you knew Hydra was the one who poisoned your father,” Harry began listing. “Or why you didn’t fight back when she attacked you. Why did you refuse the position of Head of Department twice before accepting and then why did you accept the third time? Why did you keep the secret of the Black family curse for so long?” Harry paused to heave a heavy sigh. “What happened to you and your family that changed you so drastically? When I last saw your father just after the end of the war his eyes were not so telling. The list of questions just goes on; you seem to be an endless riddle.”

Draco stopped and considered the questions for a time, realizing that Harry was right. He had hidden so many things from the other man and had never considered revealing the answers to him. He had been hurt in the past that Harry hadn’t shared any details about himself with Draco, but he had made little effort to open the dialogue.

Yet, still, Draco was not prepared to answer all those questions. He was not ready for Harry to know everything about him and now, when they should really be searching for a loosed monster, was not the time to do it.

“There are far too many questions there to answer right now,” Draco replied softly. “We’ll know each other in time, but if you need answers now, ask the most pressing one you can think of.”

Harry’s eyes widened for a moment, apparently amazed that Draco was willing to offer up even something rather than clam up and push him away. Truthfully, Draco would have much preferred to clam up and say not a word but it was not an option. Something else drove him to be honest. He blamed Potter’s presence. In anyone else’s presence he lied with brilliant ease.

Damn Potter.

“Are you still in love with Hydra?” The question was so confident and serious that it was almost ridiculous to Draco. This was the most pressing question that he could think of? He did not ask about why Draco had kept important secrets in the past. He did not ask about his father, he did not ask about his career. He asked about his failed marriage.

“I never did,” he answered without a hint of pain or regret. It was both the simplest and most honest answer he could give Harry. There was no lie anywhere there and he felt rather surprised that Harry ever thought he felt a thing for his wife.

Harry, naturally, seemed amazed in his own turn that Draco had admitted this so candidly.

“You didn’t?” he asked, disbelieving. “Then why did you marry her?”

Clearly Draco was speaking to a half-blood and a Gryffindor. These were the idle thinkers who could dream away about falling in love and marrying their soul-mate to end up with the perfect ‘happily-ever-after’. Purebloods, at least those with pride, did not have that luxury. Draco could never love freely, nor did he ever try. He was meant to find a suitable Pureblood wife, marry and produce an heir. Always a male. The Malfoy line had produced no female children in centuries and even those that were born were only second children, or third at worst. The first born Malfoy was always a boy.

But love never factored into the equation.

True, Lucius had loved Narcissa deeply, but he was very lucky. They had met at Hogwarts and Lucius began courting her. He knew her background, he knew her family history and, by all reasonable standards, she was perfect. He was one of the few Malfoy men who could boast that he had found love in a suitable bride.

“Convenience,” Draco answered again, simple as pie and without all the mess. “The opportunity presented itself. I took it. It was a mutually beneficial union, but neither of us cared for one another. In the beginning we were comfortable enough as friends, but that clearly changed.”

“Clearly,” Harry replied, his voice holding a mite of disdain just beneath the surface of his shock. Draco frowned.

“You’ll judge me now on that?” he asked with an inaudible sneer. “When you married the first girl you ever fancied?”

Harry frowned back.

“I did not,” he shot defensively. “I fancied Cho Chang before Ginny.”

He quickly stopped speaking as he realized that Draco’s comment had been made as more of a joke than anything else, but he had anchored it.

“My mistake,” he sneered more loudly this time. Harry huffed.

“So you don’t love her at all?” Harry asked, pouting in the manner of a child. Draco almost found it endearing. Almost.

“No but even if I ever had,” he began rather abrasively. “She tried to murder both my father and I, verbally threatened to abduct my son, not to mention killed one of my closest and most trusted friends and set a legendary monster loose in my home,” he listed quickly. “What makes you think I’d be very willing to forgive that and take her back?”

Harry opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly, thinking better of whatever it was he was about to say. He looked away rather sheepishly and got to his feet. Draco followed suit and brushed himself off, fixing his hair so that it hung back away from his eyes.

“No, don’t,” Harry said abruptly. Draco tilted his head and gave him a questioning look. The man’s eyes were round and embarrassed. “Leave it down.”

“Why?” Draco asked smoothly, pushing for more. Harry flushed.

“I like it better that way.”

The answer was short and simple but Draco let it wash away his previous discomfort and fill him with more hope. He let go of the platinum locks and they fell in soft pieces over his eyes. Harry watched the tresses fall and Draco studied Harry as they did. They stood in silence for a few moments, the awkwardness that might have been better timed earlier now deciding to set in.

“Well,” Harry said suddenly, breaking the tension. “We should get going.”

Draco nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Harry.

“Yes,” he answered in a hiss. “We must destroy the monster my wife birthed.”

Harry gave Draco a crooked smile.

“This sounds like a family affair,” he quipped, apparently glad that the subject had change. Draco sniggered softly before nodding.

“Welcome to the family, Mr. Potter.”

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A/N: Baha. Random Draco and his random twisted words. Ohsomanypossiblemeanings.

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