What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 5 – Truth

Harry gaped at the man before him before he realized what he was doing and promptly shut his mouth. His pupils were pinpricks and he knew he had hesitated for too long but the gob smacking shock of what Malfoy had just divined was more than Harry could handle.

“What? How did you- I’m not- What??” Harry stammered. Clearly the training session on stealth had been completely lost on him. Malfoy titled his head back and laughed but it was not a mocking laugh. Instead, it suggested some uncommon fondness between them, as though Malfoy was merely showing his amusement at one of Harry’s personal quirks.

“You were never very good at keeping secrets, Potter,” the blond informed him with a smile that suggested this trait was one of Harry’s more endearing ones. Harry revelled in the smile and the sparkle in his former-rival’s silver eyes. He took in the pleasant feeling of sitting to catch up with an old friend.

But he had to remind himself that Malfoy was not an old friend. They had never been close and this was the first time they had talked for longer than five minutes without actively hexing one another.

How was this possible? One moment, Malfoy and he were throwing insults at one another and letting their tempers get the best of them; the next they were talking and laughing like old mates and Harry felt as though he could spend every Friday, or more, with Malfoy.

Harry had wanted to get to know his old rival, for the sake of his son and his family he wanted to make the effort. But was he really ready to find out everything he was about to? The deeper he got underneath the blond’s surface, the more facets of his personality were revealed. He was more than just one person: he was several people all hidden inside and taking their turns playing their parts for him when he needed it. He knew for certain that the Malfoy that dealt with coworkers was different than the one that spent time with the caretakers at St Mungo’s and even more contrasted to the one that spoke with his parents.

Harry thought he was finally ready to give Draco Malfoy a chance, but was he prepared to make friends with the crowd of people that lived within him?

“Alright, you’ve got me,” he admitted finally, unable to lie about it. There was nothing for it. It wasn’t against the rules to admit to being an Unspeakable. It was only against the rules to speak candidly about a case or about the top secret details on Ministry file. “But you can’t –”

“Breathe a word,” Malfoy finished for him. “I know, Potter. Don’t worry.” He took a sip of the new drink that Rosmerta handed them. She took away their empty glasses and Malfoy inclined his head to her as she clicked away. “Though I have to admit, I didn’t imagine you working in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Neither did I,” Harry admitted, finding no need to refute it. “Honestly I thought I’d become an Auror but after the war…” He ran his fingers through his hair once more and shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess I was sick of fighting. I’ve been doing that all my life. Hell, I honestly did it up until seven years ago, but I needed a more stable job with fewer risks.”

“And working in the shadiest and more secretive part of the Ministry was the way to do that?” Malfoy interrupted sceptically.

“Well, yes, actually,” Harry told him. “The Auror Corps would have taken entire chunks of my week from me. I had to study again before being allowed to join, then there was training and all the assignments. I would have to be away from home for extended periods of time. I would never have seen my children. It was unstable. The Department of Mysteries was still a fascinating position –it could keep me interested and entertained –while being a stable, normal work week. I wanted to be with my family. I’ve never had a normal life, Malfoy.”

Harry let himself examine the blond’s smooth and pointed features. The firelight reflected off the platinum locks and gave Harry the impression that he was glowing. It was an odd image of Draco Malfoy, but mildly amusing all the same.

“I do understand that,” he whispered. “Though I have never opted for the ‘normal life’, myself.” He drained his second firewhisky in one gulp, while Harry watched the amber liquid disappear. “But you took this position seven years ago? What were you doing before?”

Harry shifted and glanced around the pub instinctively. He briefly believed that his scar was prickling but knew it to be the delusion left over from the ancient phenomenon.

“I was seeking out rogue Death-Eaters,” he said in an undertone. “Capturing those on the run. Presenting myself at trial as a witness for the prosecution and sometimes the defence. I was offering my help to get Hogwarts back on its feet and set up a new Headmaster, new teachers, new wards. It was all busy work just to rebuild the wizarding world after the war.”

Malfoy nodded in agreement and acceptance. His face was illegible but he seemed respectful enough. Harry wondered what really went on behind those cold eyes. He wondered if Malfoy was really thankful at all for his having rescued him during the final battle. He’d mentioned those were his only calm moments, but what did that really mean? What did Malfoy ever really mean?

“In all of that, when did you find the time to get hitched to the Weasley girl and produce three offspring?” he asked. There was no edge to his voice but Harry was still mildly uncomfortable with the wording. He frowned slightly.

“We’ve been married for fourteen years,” he said. “Somewhere in all of that, I suppose. I don’t remember exact dates, if that’s what you are after.” There was a mocking timbre to Harry’s tone but Malfoy ignored it.

“And what did you do for the missing five years?” he pressed on. Harry felt as though he was being interrogated for a crime, the way Malfoy’s eyes bore into him.

“I was secretly planning to resurrect Voldemort,” Harry answered sarcastically. “What do you think I was doing? I was relaxing, taking a break, finishing the last bit of my education and thanking the powers that be for having survived the whole thing.”

“Ah,” Malfoy replied rather disappointedly. He sat back against his chair and sighed. “I should have known.”

“What did you expect?” Harry asked confused and slightly insulted. “Me to be running off to see Eastern Europe and meet a nice Bulgarian Pureblood?”

Malfoy tipped his head to the side and thinned his lips.

“To each their own, Potter,” he answered quietly. “You very well could have, you know. Many witches and wizards do it just after they finish their schooling.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone doing it apart from Elphias Doge,” he corrected Malfoy. “And that was ages ago. Hermione never mentioned it, neither did Neville or Luna… and the Weasleys never did anything of the sort.”

Malfoy snorted.

“Well they wouldn’t, would they?” he sneered softly. “This isn’t the kind of thing you can do if you –” But he stopped himself dead in his words and shut his mouth softly. Harry cocked his eyebrows.

“If you what?” he asked, emphasizing every syllable. “Go on.”

Malfoy paused and stared directly into Harry’s eyes, his face showing nothing but calm and a searching expression that wondered what Harry expected. He was different than he was nineteen years ago, that was for sure. How different was still unknown, but there was a distinct change in the way Malfoy carried himself and spoke. A distinct difference even in the way they argued and threw insults back and forth. It was more than age affecting them. It was more than simple maturity.

Perhaps it was some kind of respect that Malfoy had given to Harry. Perhaps Harry had given him something akin to that in return.

“If you haven’t got money to burn,” he adjusted his sentence. Harry was mildly impressed.

“I haven’t got money to burn either,” he told Malfoy. The blond shook his head.

“You do, actually,” he corrected with an irritating air of all-knowing. It was something Harry had thought only Hermione to be capable of. “You were given the Black vaults along with your parents’ and you should have no problem living off of that quite comfortable, were you not working.”

“How do you know this?” Harry demanded, feeling as though his privacy had been infringed upon.

“The Black vault was supposed to go to me, you realize,” he explained calmly as though discussing the weather. Harry frowned deeply and clenched his jaw. “First to aunt Bella, then my mother and then me. You were not in that equation.”

“Oh forgive me,” Harry snapped. “Perhaps I should return it to you.” He added sarcastically, crossing his arms. He couldn’t believe this. The Black vault was given to him by his godfather and the Malfoys had no legal claim over it.

“No need,” Malfoy refused politely. “It’s legally yours and I have no complaint. I was given the Lestrange vaults, in any case. As if the Malfoy vaults were not enough.”

Harry knowingly let his jaw drop. This was a further piece of Draco Malfoy he had now seen and he could hardly believe it.

“Why are you telling me this??” he asked, aghast.

“You asked me how I know you have money to burn,” he replied simply. “It was not an attack, Potter. I don’t want, nor do I need, your money. Your family, on the other hand, could use it. I’m not heartless, you know. Shrewd, yes. Ambitious, yes. Heartless, no.”

Harry was unaware that there was even a suggestion that he might simply give up his money to Malfoy, or even offer it to him… but something about the comment distracted him.

“No, I never suggested you were heartless,” Harry told him. Malfoy looked at him with a smile.

“That’s touching. You used to think I was much less than that,” he added. Harry opened his mouth and yet found nothing to say. He did not know why this had come up, nor why he had offered Malfoy such an admission, but it didn’t matter. The blond had called for another drink and, somehow, was taking them all in stride. “I have one question though, Potter, that has nothing to do with you.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked wearily. He watched carefully as Malfoy tipped the new glass to his lips.

“How is my nephew?” he asked quietly. Harry sat motionless for a few moments, completely caught off-guard.

“Your nephew??” he repeated, just to make sure he’d heard correctly. Malfoy shrugged.

“Well, second cousin if you prefer, but I’ve always found it easier to refer to them as nieces and nephews,” he explained as though this was clear enough. Harry was still utterly perplexed. “My aunt’s grandson? My cousin married Lupin, the werewolf? They had a child? Are you awake, Potter?”

“Teddy!” Harry suddenly exclaimed, understanding Malfoy’s line of thinking. The blond cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Yeah, I suppose he is your nephew, or second cousin, whatever.”

“Yes, thank you,” Malfoy agreed with an unusual tone. “How is he?”

“Why do you want to know?” Harry asked harshly, suddenly aware and active in the conversation. “I thought purebloods didn’t associate with half-breeds.”

“Is he a werewolf, then?” Malfoy asked, ignoring the comment and taking the information that he could from it. Harry frowned.

“No, Ted is not a werewolf,” he answered shortly. “He’s a metamorphmagus like his mother.”

“I see,” he replied quietly. “He is alright then? Working and living happily?”

“Yes,” Harry answered growing more and more confused. “He’s working and living with George Weasley at the moment, if you must know.”

“At their joke shop?” he asked, keenly. Harry knit his brows.

“Yes,” he repeated. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“I feel as though you aren’t being entirely honest with me,” Harry told him, sounding mildly cross. Malfoy smiled at him and Harry felt shivers run down his spine. He felt trapped in some way, as though he was being led to his end.

“Fancy that,” Malfoy told him calmly. “I’ve always felt more comfortable being honest around you than anyone else. Ironic.”

“Not the word I would have chosen,” Harry said offhandedly, looking at his watch. It was two in the morning. “Bloody hell it’s late. I should get back.”

He got to his feet and reached for his money but Malfoy waved a hand aside.

“Forget the tab, Potter,” he told him. “You can pay me back next time.”

Harry grinned uncomfortably.

“When wil ‘next time’ be?” he asked. Malfoy chuckled.

“Next Friday, same time,” he said calmly. “Same place, I suppose. Until I can locate a more adequate one.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Alright, then,” he agreed. “See you then.”

“Have a nice night, Potter,” he heard Malfoy call out to him as he left Three Broomsticks.

As Harry arrived home to a quiet house, he realized that he felt wholly more confused and curious about Malfoy now than he ever had. He wanted to know more, to understand more, to see more than he even had in his sixth year at Hogwarts.

But Harry had a job now and a family. He couldn’t afford to spend all his time obsessing over the enigmatic Draco Malfoy when he had actual cases to deal with.

He still had to figure out what it was that was causing these pureblooded wizards to die.

And then something hit him. Malfoy was a pureblood… he might know something.

Then a second wave of realization hit and Harry literally stopped in his tracks.

Malfoy was Head of the Department of Magical Health and Wellness.

He had to know something.

----

Full Author's Note in next chapter, because it makes it easier and makes me sound like less of a completely douche. At least to myself. Yeah. Ehehe *LOVE*