What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 46 – The Same Old Rain

Never in a thousand years had it occurred to Draco that, though Severus Snape had indeed been Headmaster of Hogwarts for just under a year, he might be immortalized in portrait form alongside all the other well-respected Heads of the school from previous years. It had simply never crossed his mind. He hadn’t even thought of Dumbledore’s portrait before he had come face to face with it in sixth year, much to his own disturbance.

He had walked into what was then Snape’s office and been met immediately with a set of crystal blue eyes gazing out at him from a painting on the wall. He nearly had a heart attack in thinking that it was a mirror and not a painting. He was sure neither he nor the portrait would ever forget that moment.

What struck him as strangest, though in the whole of the situation, was that Snape’s portrait was hanging directly next to Dumbledore’s and set off from the other portraits in the room. Perhaps, in a sense, it was a final strike at Snape in his death that the only piece of him remaining on earth might be doomed to forever argue with one of the sources of his aggravation.

Perhaps it was just the school governor’s ironic sense of humour.

“That’s no way to greet your former students, is it Severus?” Dumbledore’s voice mused cheerily from out its painting. Draco shuddered. The voice, the eyes and everything related to Albus Dumbledore still caused involuntary reactions inside of him. He felt grief and guilt and overwhelming disappointment in himself.

“Nothing demands that I remain civil towards you, old man,” Snape shot back with venom in his words. “Just because I’m to spend eternity hanging next to you does not mean it has to be enjoyable.”

“Certainly not,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Draco rolled his eyes without knowing it. He did not understand how Professor Sinistra managed to work in this office without going mad. He had only been here a few moments and he feared for the edges of his sanity.

“Just as petulant as you always were, Malfoy,” Snape hissed. “What are you two doing here? Looking to rekindle old fires?”

There was an undertone in Snape’s voice that Draco did not appreciate. He opened his mouth to retort but refrain. He forced himself to remember that portraits are not people. They are simply shadows of their former selves, repeating clever remarks, unable to learn and absorb knowledge in the same way that living humans can.

Of course that did not mean they could absorb no knowledge at all…

“Our business here has no bearing on you,” Harry answered curtly. Draco fought the pull of a smirk on his lips. Harry respected Snape in a very deep way, Draco knew, though he supposed that did not suggest he had to like the man at all.

“Does it deal with your sons?” the portrait pushed further. “Albus Severus, perhaps? If so then I daresay it does have bearing on me.” He gave Harry an unpleasant sneer. “After all those years you went and named your child after me. How sentimental of you. Precious.”

The words held much disgust and Draco frowned. Perhaps after all those years of quiet suffering, in death Snape had finally been liberated. He was in portrait form now and indestructible. Apparently, this also meant he had become completely insufferable.

“That is quite enough,” a low and smooth voice flitted on the still air. Draco turned around to see the figure of the new Headmistress standing before them. She was tall and elegant, dressed in black with tiny dotted designs over the panels of her robes. She was a formidable woman, really. He had never appreciated that in school though he imagined that the lack of respect came from the fact that the only times he saw her were at midnight when he would much rather have been sleeping.

“Professor Sinistra,” Draco bowed his head to her in show of respect. Harry imitated him and she smiled at them.

“Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy,” she replied calmly. “Mr. Potter. What brings you to Hogwarts today?”

She motioned for them to take a seat in the armchairs stationed before her desk. They accepted and seated themselves though Draco could feel the burn of Snape’s eyes on the back of his neck. He arched his neck to the side as though stretching it but the burning at the back of his head would not fade.

“We are here to speak with the Potions Master,” Harry began awkwardly. It must have been strange to say something like that. Snape had, for most of their academic career, been the Potions Master and there was no way in hell either of them would really have wanted to come back to visit him.

Especially not considering the welcome they just received.

“A casual visit?” she inquired simply, her hands folded on the desk in front of her. Like Dumbledore she had an air of extreme control and power as she spoke, but she lacked some of his warmth and that all-knowing twinkle he had in his eyes.

Draco shifted again, displeased with the feelings that would not leave him and, indeed, had set in more fully within his every vein.

“Business, actually,” he answered as tacitly as possible. “We find ourselves in need of his resources.”

The careful wording was seamless and presented without flinching but he could have sworn he heard a derisive snort from behind himself nonetheless. Draco fought the urge to look back and glare.

“Ah, I see,” she nodded in manner that suggested understanding. “Well I doubt you’ll take very long,” she added, considering them both carefully. Draco wanted to read her mind and know what she was thinking but it was impossible to tell without Legilimency and he doubted now was the moment to revive his skill. “But feel free to stay for dinner. I’m sure the both of you wouldn’t mind visiting your children or old haunts. Do you need housing for the night?”

Draco blinked. He hadn’t expected to stay that long. Though, once he thought about it, it would have made more sense to take things slow. He stumbled on his thoughts for the first time in his life and Harry managed to answer before him.

“No, that’s alright,” Harry replied politely. “We’ll arrange to stay at the Inn in Hogsmeade.”

She nodded and got to her feet to press the tip of her wand to an odd gold gadget on the shelf. It swirled and buzzed for a moment before she turned back to them with a welcoming smile.

“Very well then,” Sinistra said. “I will alert the staff and you may sit at the staff table tonight for dinner.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Draco finally managed, inclining his head once more. They got to their feet and left the room with only distant grumblings of Snape’s portrait to bid them farewell.

Draco shuddered again as he got to the foot of the stairs and walked past the enchanted gargoyle. There was something off about the whole matter. Something terribly off.

“Do you know who the Potions Master is?” Harry asked Draco as they walked. The blond had been so lost in his own thoughts it took several attempts on Harry’s part before the words penetrated his mind.

“Mmm?” he managed, his attention back on Harry. That was a mistake. Harry seemed lighter than he had been before and a simple look into his eyes caused a burning longing all over Draco’s body. “Oh, yes.”

But he did not elaborate further. Harry huffed.

“Oh, by all means,” Harry shot back, irritated. “Don’t inform me further. I didn’t ask for any reason.”

Draco simply offered him a smug look as he lead Harry down into the dungeons. The other man did not appreciate his cheek and nudged him forward in a meek attempt at revenge. Draco, however, had not been expecting it and stumbled forward only to plant his foot into what looked strangely like a swamp.

“Bloody Hell,” he snapped, shaking off his foot and drawing his wand to clean his shoe. Harry had begun to apologize but stopped abruptly. Once Draco had finished cleaning himself and stopped swearing, he looked over at the frozen Harry Potter next to him.

Following his eyes, he realized where they were.

Draco had stumbled over Flitwick’s lasting memorial to the Weasley Twins. The little chunk of swamp that they had created at the end of fifth year still remained at Hogwarts, though now, above their ceaseless spell, was a grinning portrait of Fred Weasley.

“Harry!” the portrait welcomed with mock sophistication. “Absolutely spiffing to see you, old boy! And Malfoy!” He turned his attention to Draco with a very cheeky grin. “You missed a spot.”

Draco frowned and looked back at his shoe where he clearly had missed a spot. He rolled his eyes and went on to clean it. Harry was gaping though the corners of his mouth were slowly turning into a grin. Draco brushed himself off and decided to remain silent. He had never been able to get on with any Weasley and he doubted that he would start now with the portrait of a dead one.

He let Harry have his moment, no matter how much it pained him that he might never managed to draw that same look from Harry’s eyes. That look of admiration and wistfulness, that muted pain and longing.

“Fred,” he began breathily, apparently still disbelieving. “I’m so sorry.”

The words rang strangely in Draco’s ear but he stilled his tongue. Why was Harry apologizing? He couldn’t possibly understand it and the thought of that further irked him. He looked aside and began to study the swamp before him.

“Sorry? For what?” Fred chuckled brightly. Harry sighed.

“For…everything,” he explained, his eyes roaming around Fred Weasley’s current situation. Fred snorted.

“Are you kidding?” he exclaimed full of excitement. “This is a dream come true! I’m perfectly stationed to receive not only reverence for the rest of time, but also to adequately corrupt hordes of students into becoming magnificent mischief makers! I don’t see any downside.” He paused momentarily. “Apart from being dead, of course.”

Draco chuckled despite himself and looked away.

“Let it never be said Death got in the way of a Weasley,” he snickered not unkindly. Fred turned his attention back to him. Draco felt the look and turned to meet his eyes.

“There’s something to be said for Malfoys as well, I suppose,” he conceded. “Slippery little ferret you are. No matter how many times someone comes close, it’s just impossible to kill you.”

Draco should have perhaps taken offence but he simple burst out into laughter and shook his head again. Harry was laughing as well and the sound caused Draco’s heart to swell in his chest. He never would have imagined having a conversation like this with Harry, a Weasley (dead or alive) and himself but here they were.

“We need to get going though,” Harry finally admitted sorrowfully. Fred nodded with a bright smile.

“Give George my regards,” his voice called after them as they continued on through the halls and down into the pits of the dungeons.

Draco had to admit, no matter how many painful memories were associated to Hogwarts, this had always been the place he had felt the happiest and the most free. He had never begrudged having to come here instead of staying at Malfoy Manor, or going to Durmstrang. Even in those moments that he had boasted otherwise, Hogwarts had become a second home to him and without it, he would not have become the man he had.

“I knew it was possible,” Harry muttered to himself under his breath. Draco glanced at him. He had a very sneaky smirk on his lips that made Draco want to kiss him.

“Knut for your thoughts, Potter,” Draco prodded with sarcastic interest. Harry laughed and smiled more brightly.

“My thoughts are worth more than a knut, Malfoy,” he answered playfully.

“Doubt it,” he snickered but pressed on. “Out with it then.”

“Nothing,” he played dumb. “Just that I knew it was possible for you and a Weasley to have a civil conversation with one another. Just because you think it’s impossible, doesn’t mean you are right.”

“I’m rarely wrong,” he answered with his nose in the air. “And a portrait of a Weasley and the actual thing are very different.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort but they had reached the door to the dungeons and served as a cold reminder of the reason for their visit. His face dropped very slightly and he took a deep breath. Draco mirrored him without realizing it. This place held many memories, both good and bad, from school and he wondered briefly what it would be like to walk back inside.

They both pushed through the heavy door together to come face to face with the newly appointed Potions Master of Hogwarts. The professor looked up from the desk with a mildly bemused smile and wide eyes.

“Draco Malfoy,” they said quietly. “and Harry Potter.” A pause to take it in. “I got the Headmistress’ notice and yet I still could not believe it.”

Draco had to admit, one thing that he liked more than anything else was shock value. Presenting himself alongside Harry Potter was definitely never going to get old. He smirked and took a step forward.

“Hello Theodore,” he greeted. “It’s been a long time.”

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A/N: OMG two chapters in two days! YAY! I ish writing again! Though as my schedule for classes sucks terribly it won’t likely be steady. Ah well. I still did it.

Anywho, I had fun with Snape. And Fred. I’m still working on the concepts for Lily and James’ portrait. Naturally Snape’s can talk. And Fred’s I would imagine can as well. But I don’t really feel that Lily and James should be able to speak with Harry. Perhaps because the portrait was painted so long after they had died, the magic couldn’t bind any piece of them to it.

Sure. That’s what I’ll go with. Lol ah well. They aren’t particularly important here. Or any more important than they ever were before.

Yes. Anyway, I have plans and things and I need to get them going! Theodore is Potions Master. Why? Because I say so haha! Yay me! Okay I’ll shut up.

Thanks for the lovely reviews! I lobe you all velly velly two times!

(Translation: My love to you! 8D)