What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 6 – Dare

Draco felt himself exhale heavily once Potter had left him to go back to his perfect little family unit. Yes, unit was the word. He wasn’t aware he had been holding his breath but now that he could breathe freely, he realized just how much air he had been lacking.

“God why does he still do this to me?” Draco asked himself quietly, groaning softly and grasping his head in his hands, fisting his soft blonde locks. He could smell the alcohol on his breath but still felt none of its effects.

He drained the last bits of drink from his glass and dropped a number of galleons far too high for the price of the drinks on the table before walking out into the night. He tugged his robes tightly to him despite the warmth of the night air.

He took a deep breath and picked a small vial out of his inner robes. He tipped the lid and downed the whole thing. Immediately, Draco felt a tingling sensation in his mouth refreshing his senses and removing the most visible effects of the alcohol.

Draco took a moment to think on the events of the night before he Apparated back to Malfoy Manor. It had been so… casual. So painfully and wonderfully casual. It was absolutely maddening how easily he could sink back into his old shoes, how easily he could talk to Potter and say anything that came to mind.

He wasn’t lying when he said he felt more comfortable being honest around Potter than anyone else. He had been that way all his life. He’d never lied to Potter… never when they were alone anyway. He was quite sure of that.

But he had felt so desperate for… something. He couldn’t identify it but there was a familiar feeling that came over him when they were together. He nostalgically reminded himself of their days at Hogwarts and attributed his unnamed emotions to that, to secretly wishing he could be back at school, but deep down Draco knew this wasn’t true.

He knew that there had always been something more compelling about Potter. From the first day they met he was drawn to the boy and it hadn’t stopped. The only moments that Draco had wanted to be as far away from the former-Gryffindor as possible were the times he was at his weakest. The times he was crumbling under Voldemort’s demands.

And threats.

Draco shook himself of the memories. He was a grown man now. He was successful and powerful and his own person. He had his own son to take care of, his own wife. He had… so many more things to take care of.

A whole family to look after. That thought struck him and reminded him of what his father must have felt in the months before Draco’s sixth year when his grandfather passed away and Lucius was helpless to do anything.

Draco, once again, shook himself, though more violently.

Now was not the time to let those thoughts come back to him. It had been nineteen years since Voldemort’s defeat and seventeen years since the Malfoys had been released of all charges and surveillance. It had taken an absurd measure of time for them to free them of all matters against them, but it had been worth it.

In some ways.

He had seen both the best and worst of his parents and been forced to actually grow into the man they had wanted him to be from the time he was fourteen. He was forced, in certain situations, to take on his father’s role. Prison had nearly destroyed everything that was Lucius Malfoy and Draco could not stand to see his father so weak.

It was unbecoming. It was wrong.

Draco almost Apparated without realizing what he was doing. He appeared in front of the gates to the Manor and they dissolves before him without so much as a word or a look. He stepped onto the grounds and abruptly stopped when he spotted one of the many pure white peacocks standing just a few feet away from him.

He stared at the majestic bird for quite a while and found that as he did so, his thoughts could only drift back to Potter. He saw the green eyes burn into him like fiend fire and then, without warning, he felt a strong back against his chest. He felt the rush of adrenaline and smelled the unpleasant aroma of singed clothing and blazing skin. He felt the rush of fear as he remembered clinging onto Potter with all of his life force and firmly believing that if he let go, he would instantly die.

He exhaled heavily again, as though he had been holding his breath for hours, and let the panic wash out of him.

Why was this happening?

The night with Potter had been quite enjoyable. He didn’t know exactly what it was that possessed him to demand another meeting next week, but he was not regretful. True he said he wanted to show Potter just how much he missed out on when he chose Weasley over him… but had it seemed desperate? Had it seemed too forceful or forward?

Draco sighed and pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. It wasn’t important at the moment. It wasn’t important that Potter’s name rolled off his tongue in such a way that called him to say it more often and whisper it under his breath in his sleep. It wasn’t important that the image of those eyes was going to plague him for the next week until he could see them again and it most certainly was not important that he, truthfully, wanted Potter’s friendship more than anything else he had striven for in the past nineteen years.

These were just meaningless details. Just details.

Draco inhaled sharply and stepped up towards the front entrance. He pushed past the door and over the threshold, taking in the familiar scents of his home. The House-Elves had clearly prepared a delectable dinner that was still waiting warm for him to eat if he chose.

The rooms were impeccable and clean, but warm and lived in, as opposed to the usual sterile feeling that haunted Draco throughout his day. He hated the sterility of hospitals but it was necessary, naturally.

He removed his outer robes and was immediately greeted by a tiny little elf in specially tailored uniforms with the Malfoy crest. It bowed its floppy-eared head to him.

“Hello Sneetch,” Draco greeted his elf. This was his favourite of them all. Sneetch was loyal to the Malfoys beyond any other elf. The others that served in the Manor were wonderful, as well, mind. Much better than Dobby had ever been, but they were quieter and kept to themselves when not called. Sneetch actively offered whatever help he could and cared for Scorpius when he had been a child and Draco or Hydra had needed help.

Draco was infinitely thankful for this.

“How is Young Master tonight?” he asked softly in his squeaky voice. Draco smiled softly.

“I could be better, but thank you for asking,” he answered pleasantly.

“Young Master will let Sneetch know if he can do anything to help, yes?” Sneetch asked hopefully. Draco merely nodded politely to him and the elf disappeared with Draco’s outer-robes to put them away.

He walked through the entrance hall and towards his father’s study, but found himself suddenly standing before his wife.

“Good evening, Hydra,” Draco told her pleasantly. Her eyes narrowed almost immediately.

“You’ve been drinking,” she said without a moment’s hesitation, in a voice thick with a hidden accent but perfect English. He nearly allowed himself to grimace at her but managed to refrain. She was quicker than his mother had been at detecting something Draco was hiding and it was markedly aggravating.

“Nonsense, Hydra,” he said with a feigned smile. “You shouldn’t accuse so quickly. It is unbecoming.”

“Poppycock,” she retorted determinately. “Where have you been?”

Draco absolutely despised being interrogated. He was not a child and he was not under her power. She had no right to treat him as though he was on a short leash and he had repeatedly been forced to put her in her place.

Draco was never abusive. He never laid a hand on her and she was lucky for that. He knew quite well that her family would have condoned the use of brutal force to encourage obedience. He knew this from experience when she had tried to lay a hand on Scorpius when he disobeyed her.

He had put her in her place then and he would do it again now.

“You’ll not speak to me in that tone,” he answered simply but his quiet voice spoke volumes in way of warnings. “It is not your place to keep tabs on me and if you intend to keep on living at the Manor as my wife, you will remember that.”

Hyrda’s eyes slated to a dull black as he spoke and she looked into his eyes. Draco could be cold as ice and as cutting as knives when he wanted to be. He knew perfectly well that, in her family, divorce was not an option and disobeying one’s husband was one of the purest forms of dishonor. This was not necessarily a typical Bulgarian tradition, but the Krums were not typical Bulgarians.

“You shouldn’t be so stern with me, Draco,” she told him with a little less demand in her voice. Her eyes, however, betrayed her anger. “I am faithful to you and want nothing more than your safety. I worry when you are gone for long and am unaware of your whereabouts. If something should happen to you…”

Lies, Draco thought to himself. Hydra spoke as though she loved Draco but he knew she felt no such thing. Hydra loved Draco’s money and Draco’s lifestyle. He snorted.

“You would likely rejoice and dance on my grave the day I die,” he shot back, already regretting the words. He did not like to let her know she could get a rise out of him. A rise of any sort.

“Draco, please,” she pleaded with little effort. “Don’t hurt me that way. Why won’t you let me care about you? We have a son together. We have a life and a commitment. Why do you refuse to let me in?”

Draco gave her a calculating gaze and took in every part of her he could. He sighed softly to himself.

“I’m sorry, Hydra,” he apologized stiffly. “Things have been stressful at work lately.” He kissed her forehead lightly and moved to step aside. “Where is my father?”

“Lucius is in his study,” she replied though her voice was dead and empty. She stood motionless as he passed by and he did not turn back to see if she was watching him go.

Draco continued on towards his father’s study, wondering why he was still up so late. It was a foolish question, mind you. Draco knew precisely why Lucius was still awake at this hour.

He was waiting for Draco.

“Father,” he announced upon entering the lavish but tasteful master study. It was paneled in dark wood and a plush deep green carpet covered most of the floor.

“Draco,” Lucius replied, looking up from the thick volume perched on his lap. He did not smile but his eyes told Draco that he was happy to see him.

Lucius Malfoy had changed very little in the years that had passed. At least, in manner of appearance. His hair was still silky and long, hanging straight and styled locks around his face. Instead of blonde, however, they were white. His face had not changed much either. The lines around his eyes and mouth were slightly more pronounced than before but his features were still chiseled and prominent, challenging the world to recognize him as the embodiment of power.

He got to his feet and the minute changes became even more imperceptible. Lucius still stood straight as a stalk, commanding attention and admiration. He never let himself look weak except in one feature: his eyes.

Lucius’ eyes now broadcast every emotion he had, though perhaps only to Draco. At the moment, his father was showing his relief that he had returned and his hope for good news.

“How is your mother?” his father asked immediately. He never beat around the bush. Straight to the point. He needed to know. Draco motioned for him to sit back down but he made no move to acquiesce.

“She has not improved since yesterday,” he admitted sadly. The moments of quiet discussion between them in his father’s study were the only moments that Draco and Lucius shared weakness. “She is still stable, but the Healers cannot seem to identify the actual problem. As far as they can see, there isn’t one. I have told them to keep looking and they do without complaint, but,” and Draco paused here, knowing that the next words out of his mouth were going to be detrimental. “it does not look promising.”

Lucius’ face did not change at all. He remained stoic in his expression but the fear and grief in his eyes screamed out to Draco and tore through him like daggers. This, he could not deal with. He could take on any political issue. He could take on cynicism and intolerance and skepticism and attacks on his family name and honour. He could take on fake people and their fake friendships. He could take on anything that presented itself in the world outside Malfoy Manor…

But he could not take in the knowledge of his Father’s undoing. He was not strong enough to deal with that. He was not strong enough to deal with his Mother’s situation. He was not strong enough for his family to fall apart.

“I will do everything in my power, Father,” he assured Lucius. The man nodded to him with a fiercely proud look that Draco had rarely seen on his face. He smiled.

“Where were you tonight?” he asked his son. Draco stared at him for a moment. There was no reason, nor any possibility of lying to Lucius.

“I was out for drinks with Harry Potter,” he answered simply. Lucius seemed taken aback.

“A friendly encounter?” he asked, interested and amazed. He sat himself back down and gestured for Draco to join him.

“Yes, his invitation, actually,” he told his father.

“What for?” Lucius inquired. Draco studied his father as he arranged the cuffs of his robes.

“Scorpius has made friends with Potter’s middle child, Albus Severus,” he explained without rush. “Potter seems to think it a good idea for the two of us to reconcile in light of our sons’ friendship.”

Draco’s father adjusted himself and trained his eyes on his son’s. Draco nearly flinched under the stare but managed to return it. He wasn’t a boy anymore. This stare was not threatening.

“And you disagree?” he asked. Draco shook his head.

“Not at all,” he explained. “I don’t think Scorpius requires me to have a friendship with Potter for his own friendship to last, but I will not refuse an opportunity to get close to the famous Harry Potter.”

Lucius smirked the infamous Malfoy smirk and nodded to his son.

“You finally have grown up, Draco,” he sneered softly. Draco smirked and looked aside. “Potter is a good ally to have. I trust you know what you are doing.”

Draco nodded absently and got to his feet to leave his father.

“Goodnight,” he said and departed.

As he walked back to his own rooms, Draco shifted uneasily in his steps. He couldn’t help feel odd about the idea that Lucius saw Potter as a “good ally”. That was not what this was about at all.

But Draco was afraid to admit it. He couldn’t very well admit to something like that. He couldn’t admit to wanting a friendship with Potter for anything more than political reasons.

“It’s bloody mad,” he told himself as he stepped into his bedroom.

He quickly shed his clothing and dressed in a pair of silk pajama bottoms to sleep. Picking up the sealed letter from Scorpius that had come that morning, Draco sat himself down on the king-sized bed and read his son’s news.

Once he was done reading the letter, Draco felt a swell of pride in his chest and placed the parchment aside to lie down to sleep. There was a smug smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

“Like father like son, I suppose.”

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A/N: Ok so. This I believe answered your question, Yami Bakura, about who is in St Mungo's. You were right :) Though I hope the reasons are still mysterious teehee.

As for Draco's feelings towards his wife... well you'll understand that all soon enough. He is, of course, still married to Hydra. I would also like to remark that I'm not 100% sure if Viktor Krum is pureblood or not, but I'm labouring under the belief that he is. So, for my story, yes. He is.

And... Ginny. I don't want it to seem like I'm making her out to be a horrible person. You'll see soon that she isn't just a walking argument, it's just her way of reacting to Malfoy. You'll also understand, hopefully, why she reacts to him so easily. I have the hardest time with Ginny because she is one of my least favourite characters, but I'm trying to make it fair for her too. It's just difficult to work with her sometimes. I'm only just getting the hang of Harry for somethings, so hopefully you'll all bear with me as I grow and learn to deal with them.

Draco is still my fave. No doubts. I'm sure you all see that too. Eheh. *hangs head*

And I love Narcissa and Hermione too. And Lucius. And all of them? Just some more than others?

Ah well, I'll shut up now. Hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks for the reviews, they keep me going!! *love to all*