What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 35 – The Shorter Story

Draco dropped the broomstick into his hands and turned away as though it was nothing. He walked out of the cell, the jar of Basilisk venom hovering in front of him and spending every last shred of his efforts to keep from running. He needed to change the subject, needed to get out of there and away from Harry. There was too much between them, too much unsaid and too much already done.

He walked down the hall, vaguely aware that the cell door was still open. He need not worry about that. The House Elves would be alerted and they would dispose of the Basilisk in an adequate way. Their magic was quite powerful enough to do that.

Draco knew that Harry was not following just yet. He knew that the other man was still standing dumbstruck in the cell, surrounded by the dead snake’s coils as he held his long lost and long forgotten broom. What had possessed Draco to give it back? He couldn’t know for sure and did not really want to think on it.

“Wait!” Harry’s voice called suddenly from behind him, there were hurried footsteps to catch up with him but Draco did not stop walking. He continued to look resolutely ahead in order to keep himself from exploding from one thing or another. “Draco, wait!”

“Mmm?” Draco hummed, glancing over at Harry who was walking briskly next to him in order to keep up. Harry made some kind of movement to show his exasperation.

“Stop walking,” he ordered, holding an arm out to stop Draco. The blond nearly winced at the contact, his body yearning for far more than that. He ignored it and pretended to be huffy. Turning to Harry with a disgruntled look on his face, he saw those green eyes boring into him and immediately felt dwarfed in an unnatural way. Harry’s expression was blazing with questions. “Where did you get this?” he asked, holding out the Firebolt to Draco. It was perfectly polished and looked, in all honesty, as good as the day it was purchased. Draco had made sure of that.

He hesitated for a few moments, wondering distractedly if his voice would betray him should he dare to use it. He sighed inwardly and then looked back into Harry’s eyes with as much truth as he could. He was mildly afraid of what Harry’s reaction would be, seeing Draco’s true emotions bared in his orbs, but he did it nonetheless.

“Nearly twenty years ago,” Draco began rather dramatically, his voice wavering much less than he anticipated. It encouraged him to go on. “You were ambushed by a number of Death Eaters on your way to a safe-house before your protection expired.” Draco watched as Harry’s eyes shifted through various stages of surprise and nostalgia. “You dropped your Firebolt at some point during the attack and a Death Eater caught it. He took it back with him to the headquarters, which was consequently Malfoy Manor.” Draco looked away at this point, his cheeks threatening to turn a soft shade of pink. “They said they were going to keep it to spite you, but as soon as they left it unattended, I plucked up the courage and nicked it, hiding it away in the lower levels so that I could keep it from them.”

At this point, Draco refused to look back at Harry and began walking once more. He did not want to try and explain his actions. He did not want to face more of Potter’s questions. In truth, he could not. He didn’t have a rational explanation except to say that it had been a compulsion. Something told him he needed to take that broom and keep it safe. It was his lifeline for many weeks, living in pure terror under the rule of Lord Voldemort.

Without any more words, a hand grasped his shoulder and Draco wondered how he had missed the footsteps approaching. He stopped in his tracks and let himself be turned around to meet fiery green eyes. Harry’s face was only inches from his. He could smell the other man underneath the thick scent of blood and death. He could feel Harry despite the distance, despite the blood on his hands.

They stood there, seconds apart, looking into each others eyes as unspoken agreements and promises were made. They did nothing but breathe and stare and feel, while time ticked away and Draco felt like all of eternity could have passed without him noticing. Finally, Harry tilted his head upwards and then their mouths were barely brushing. He stopped just before the fall and, instead of doing what Draco longed for, he spoke.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered to him, no questions, no demands. Just silent offerings of everything he had.

Draco nodded and they walked back through the halls and corridors, coming back to that initial passage through the wall. Once they passed through, Draco turned around and repeated the password to relock the door. This time, Harry made a remark.

“I didn’t know you spoke French,” he said offhandedly as they walked in no particular direction. Draco felt disgusting and decided they both needed to shower…

Perhaps in different baths.

“I don’t,” he answered, modifying his course to lead the other man towards a bathroom. “There are many password protected areas of Malfoy Manor and most of them are in other languages. There are ones in French, Italian, Dutch, German, Greek, Spanish and Portuguese.” He paused and thought over his list, judging it accurate. “The hardest ones to learn were Greek and Portuguese because of the accents but I don’t speak any of those languages in any significant way.”

Harry laughed and Draco stopped. He did not understand what was funny about the explanation. He looked through his blood-drenched hair at Potter and raised a brow. Harry noticed his odd expression and laughed harder, waving his hands from side to side.

“It’s nothing,” he explained without question. “It’s just that’s a little paranoid isn’t it?”

Draco glared at him, unimpressed.

“Paranoid?” he asked skeptically. “Considering that my wife managed to bring in a murderous and highly dangerous creature to raise and breed for hate into my house, not to mention managed to do it behind the protections of the passwords, I’d say it’s not paranoid at all. In fact, the security is a bit lax if you look at it that way.”

Harry’s laughter died and he looked sheepish, apparently having forgotten their little encounter with the Basilisk already. Draco wondered if it really took something as life-threatening as a Basilisk to keep the man’s attention.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied embarrassed. Draco continued on into a large room. It was circular and marble inside. There were several doors leading off from the room and each was marked with a blank plaque. “What’s this?”

“This is one of our baths,” Draco replied calmly, fetching some fluffy white towels from the centre cupboard. “Each door leads to an individual bath. Your name will appear on the plaque once you are inside to mark the stall as in use.”

Harry blinked at him and chuckled softly, taking the towels from Draco.

“You could have simply told me that I stink,” Harry quipped, walking towards one of the doors. Draco let himself smile.

“Not at all,” he answered silkily. “But you’re covered in blood and red is not your colour.”

Potter shot a playful glare at him before he closed the door on himself and the plaque scrolled out his name. The water began to run from behind there and Draco immediately took his own stall to bathe. He stripped himself of this clothing and stood underneath the jets of hot water, letting it all pound at his skin and wash away his concerns.

Once he got out, he picked up the new clothes that the House Elves had laid out for him and dressed. Harry was already waiting in the circular room when he was done and he seemed to be considering himself in the wall-length mirrors that decorated the baths. He was wearing a pair of Draco’s black trousers and one of his casual house robes. The robe was left slightly open to reveal part of his chest and the pants seemed to be both slightly too long and slightly too tight for Potter. He turned to Draco.

“How thin are you, precisely?” he asked, one dark brow arched to the sky. “These trousers feel like they are painted on.” Draco studied Harry’s lower half for a moment and smirked.

“They look it too,” he snickered, walking up to the other man. Draco himself was wearing black trousers and a green house-robe, open all the way down to reveal a strip of his porcelain skin.

Harry turned back and glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. The Firebolt was lying against the wall and Potter’s clothes had been taken from him to be cleaned. The jar of Basilisk venom was placed in Draco’s study.

“We’ll get your eyeful while you can, Malfoy,” Harry shot, picking up the Firebolt and other assorted things that were removed from his clothes. “Because this will not happen again.”

-- Oh, I beg to differ.--

Draco waggled his eyebrows and curled his lip into a sneer before leading Harry out of the bathroom and into his study for them to consider their next plan of action. Once they arrived there, however, Draco realized that they did not have any idea on how to proceed.

He sat himself on the sofa and sunk into the material, throwing his arms over the back unknowingly suggesting Harry join him. Harry, remarkably, did so and sat a short ways off from Draco, carefully leaning his Firebolt against the side of the seat. Draco glanced over at him and let his eyes roam freely through the tangled mess of dark hair.

Harry looked over at him and arched his brows slightly in questioning. Draco smirked softly and turned his attention to the jar on the table. It seemed so ominous as it smoked underneath the stopper, the clear liquid burning the glass.

“So, we have Basilisk venom,” Harry pointed out uselessly. Draco pulled a face and snorted.

“Well spotted,” he snapped, crossing his legs. “The problem is now how do we find the Acromantula poison and the Phoenix tears? I suppose we could go back and see if Hydra didn’t lie about hiding a dirty great spider in the Manor as well,” he spat icily, inwardly groaning at the thought of his ex-wife. “Yet even then, I don’t imagine she would have housed a Phoenix here too. I don’t think there is a Phoenix in existence that would trust her.”

“They why did you?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. He immediately turned pink and Draco’s breath caught in his chest.

“I never really did,” he answered curtly, refusing to go into it. “I just never believed she was capable of murder.”

“Not everyone is like you,” Harry went on and the comment stung Draco in a way he knew that it shouldn’t. He clenched his jaw and looked darkly at the man next to him.

“Yes, well,” he went on, his tone hard. “That much is for sure.” He turned back to the table. “The problem of where we are going to find an Acromantula in England still exists so please focus on that if you can.”

Harry made an odd noise and looked at the jar as well. Then, within moments, it hit him and Draco wondered where his brain had been until that point.

“The Forbidden Forest!” he exclaimed suddenly, his face lit with excitement. Draco frowned.

“What?” he asked flatly. Potter was clearly mad.

“There are Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest on the Hogwarts grounds,” he explained more fully as though rephrasing the sentence would be enough. Draco glared and Harry’s face fell. He rolled his eyes oddly. “Hagrid raised an Acromantula in his third year at Hogwarts and then set him loose in the Forest. He reproduced, I imagine, and now there are hundreds of giant spiders running around inside there.”

Draco pressed his forefinger to his temple and rubbed in circles, wondering deftly how long it would take him to eradicate Harry’s delusions from his mind. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Even if what he said was true, there was still a massive problem.

“Look, Potter,” Draco said, clearly displeased at this point. He was tired and frustrated (in more ways than one) and wanted some answer to present itself clearly, or not at all. “Even if there are giant spiders running around inside the Forbidden Forest, what do you want us to do? Just go pay them a visit and ask for a parting gift?” Draco turned to him and opened his eyes more completely, burning into Harry’s eyes with his silver ones. “As far as I know, the only way to get poison from an Acromantula without bidding farewell to the world of the living is to kill it. I, myself, do not know how to kill an Acromantula, so if you do, by all means, share.”

Harry blinked at him a moment and rolled his eyes again. Apparently, he did not enjoy being patronized. Draco smirked darkly, relishing in the tiniest reactions.

“I don’t know how to kill an Acromantula,” Harry seethed back. He readjusted himself to face Draco. “Though I’m sure Hermione would have a good clue on how to do it. Or at least, there must be some books in your massive libraries that have the answer to that question. Meanwhile, why is it always killing with you? I understand the Basilisk, but if there were a way to stun the spider and take the poison, would that not be a better solution? Things don’t need to die just so that you can –Aragog!”

Draco was not sure how it came about –he got lost in the long rant that Harry was giving him about who knows what and killing something or other –but the man had just burst out in the most unexpected way. There was a victorious expression in his green eyes and a manic look on his face as he punched his palm with his fist and proclaimed himself a genius.

The blond simply stared, his eyebrows gone into his hairline and his eyes flat in disbelief. He did not know whether to placate Harry in his sudden proclamation or to send him to St Mungo’s for a check-up.

“Did you hit your head?” Draco asked seriously, staring at the other man. Harry shook his head.

“No, no,” he waved the thought away. “Aragog was the spider that Hagrid raised.” Draco gave him a look as though to assure him that that was not suitable enough explanation. “Aragog was the one who sired the other spiders. He died in our sixth year. Where is Slughorn now?”

The evolution of the questions made little sense to Draco but he decided to humour Potter nonetheless.

“Slughorn is dead,” he answered with little emotion. “Twelve years ago.” Draco said. Harry’s face fell as he spoke but there was a hope in his eyes that would not die.

“Where was he when he died?” Harry pressed, edging closer to Draco. The blond shivered and licked his lips. If Harry’s excitement at the prospect of learning more about Slughorn meant that he would get closer to Draco, he was inclined to keep Potter interested as long as possible.

“He was at Hogwarts, of course,” he answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, though he was secretly trying not to let his eyes roam away from Harry’s face. “They practically begged him to stay on until they could find a suitable replacement while the school was getting back on its feet after the war. Bloody coward he was, demanded protections from loose Death Eaters and all sorts of reparations for the emotional stress he was caused from having to work their during the war. Idiot. He died teaching a class because some students walked in on Halloween wearing black cloaks and skull masks. Heart attack, on the spot.”

Draco cursed under his breath. He had been at St Mungo’s and had dealt with the Healers that had assessed Slughorn’s cause of death. He huffed and rolled his eyes at the idea but the brightness in Harry’s face distracted him and made him want to suck on the man’s lips.

“So, all of his personal effects remained at Hogwarts,” Harry said rather than asked. Draco frowned. How did this matter?

“Well, no,” he answered, uninterested. “His personal belongings were divided off to family members or whoever was mentioned in his will. The only things that would have stayed at Hogwarts were books he might have used to teach and anything he kept in his private stores for Potions.”

Harry nearly leapt out of his seat and he, apparently, was fighting very hard not to throw himself at Draco. Once he got over his initial fit of victory, he sniffed, lay back against the couch and put on an irritatingly smug look.

“Thank you,” he answered, self-satisfied. Draco wanted to wring his neck.

“For what??” snapped angrily. He hated being left in the dark. “What does all this have to do with Acromantulas??”

Harry leaned carefully over and came so close to Draco in his movement that the blond felt the air change.

“Well, Draco,” he said matter-of-factly. “I brought Slughorn to Aragog’s funeral and he took all of the poison that he could. He said it was very rare and, naturally, very expensive. I would imagine that in all those years he sold a bit of it, but one does not simply get rid of something that uncommon.” Harry licked his lips and Draco’s eyes followed his tongue. “My best guess is that he kept it in his private stores and that, when he died, it remained at Hogwarts. So all we need to do to get that is pay a visit to our old school.”

Harry waggled his eyebrows in a very arrogant manner that was unbefitting of him before leaning back against the sofa and smirking as though he had just won a difficult chess match. Draco didn’t quite know what to say but he wanted to wipe that smirk off of Harry’s face, if it meant he’d have to suck it off.

Preferably.

“And after twenty or so years,” he began simply with a soft sneer. “You think that the Acromantula poison is still among the stocks of the Potions Master?”

Harry nodded.

“I don’t see why not,” he explained. “That poison isn’t used often in potions, mostly for poisons and because it’s so rare, why would you waste it? My guess is that the stock is still basically full.”

Draco sat back as well, looking Harry up and down as though considering a price. He thought on the idea for a while and weighed out the possibilities. The new Potions Master was not any kind of fool who would waste something that valuable, nor were they the kind of person to sell it all on a whim. There was, if they were lucky, likely still enough to create a cure. The problem was then only in where they would find Phoenix tears.

Then, like a ton of bricks or a rogue bludger, the solution hit Draco and knocked the wind out of him. How had he missed it before?

“Luna,” he hissed gently. “I need to see Luna about the Phoenixes.”

Harry had apparently missed the connection. Draco let his eyes move away from Harry, lest he find himself in a position that could compromise… well, everything.

He glanced at the little pile of objects that Harry had removed from his robes and something caught his eye. Something he had not seen in ages.

“Why Luna?” Harry asked, tilting his head and returning to his natural state of confusion. Draco’s eyes did not leave the object.

“Because she mentioned them,” he brushed off quickly. “But there is something more important that I need to know, Potter.”

Harry sat up slightly at the name.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned. Draco’s eyes were trained on the object still.

“When, exactly,” he began harshly. “were you going to tell me that you’ve been carrying my wand around with you?”

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A/N: Ahhh sorry for the delay in posting! I'm sooo sorry! I was surprised with my best friend visiting for my birthday from another city and she stayed with me until this morning XD It was lots of fun but stopped me from writing. Anywho, I hope these two chapters make up for that!

Thank you all SOOOOO much for the birthday wishes and everything! You are all so wonderful to me!

And thank you SO much to Ravenqueen who recommended this story on LJ. I couldn't post a thank you there, but I'm so very honoured!

Ahh so much love to everyone hahahah

One more thing, I might need to split this fic into two fics, that meaning it will have a sequel because of how things are evolving. Not for sure yet, but I'll tell you all as soon as I decide!