The Secret Between Us - Prt.2

Chapter Thirteen

Harry jerked his head up, snapping from his dream. He felt like there was someone there with him, watching him, but the only person with him inside closed space was Draco, and his situation hadn't changed.

"Weird," he muttered to himself before sinking back down on the chair.

With a sad, soft sigh, he looked over to Draco. He'd remained the same all night long, there were a few scares here and there, but nothing had changed. He was still fading, and fast.

Harry knew that the sun would be out soon, and it was better to get breakfast before many of the visitors woke up, so he stood up, and left Draco's side to get himself a good snack.

He only left a couple of minutes, bought a cup of coffee, some biscuits, and then made his way to the lifts. There he encountered a very angry Malfoy. A tall man, with long blond hair, clean shaven hair, and cold grey eyes. Beside him was a slim, equally tall, woman who's blond hair was slowly becoming silver, with blue pale eyes.

The couple set their eyes on Harry, and he knew he was dead just by the way they looked at him. Harry slowly walked inside, the fifth button already pressed. He gulped, as he knew it was only a matter of time until one of the two spoke.

Finally, the man turned to look at Harry. "Potter, want to guess how I found out my son's in this hospital?" Lucius asked with a cagey tone.

"I'd rather not, sir," Harry replied with a smirk and a little bow.

"A journalist," Lucius bit, his patience growing thin. Pressing the newspaper he held in Harry's chest, he kept talking, "I had to find out from the quibber that the famous Harry Potter has been living at a hospital for the past month,  because his husband has between the balance of being dead and alive'?"

Harry moved the bag of biscuits to that one holding his cup of coffee, and used his wand to chant a spell that would let him read the front page of the newspaper. And there it was, in big, bold letters, the header read: Harry Potter, the widower?

Rage began running through Harry's veins. Why do they care what he's up to now? He's no longer the chosen one, the boy of the prophecy, why can't they just leave him alone?

Harry's eyes moved back up to meet Lucius'. "Why didn't you owl us, Potter," he snarled. Harry handed back the newspaper to the older man, and using the Malfoy façade he'd seen Draco put on at his awkward family dinners, said, "my owl must've gotten lost, want me to write another one? See if that one reached your home?"

Lucius' eyes narrowed. He was getting ready to say something, when his wife placed her hand on his shoulder. Looking between the two men, she said with a stern voice, "don't do this here, not now." Harry and Lucius looked at each other, then back to Narcissa.

"Fine."

"Fine."

The two men bit their tongues. As they waited for the lift to open, Narcissa rested her head on Lucius' shoulder. She intertwined her fingers through his, with Harry not being able to help but look at the two.

He didn't like the Malfoy's, not one bit, but he'd learned to tolerate them, and part of him had learned to call them family. Yet, even though he didn't like what they believed in, or stood for, he wished that his marriage would be the same as that of Draco's parents.

The lift came to a stop, and the door opened. Narcissa was the first one to walk out, Harry was behind her, but Lucius stopped him with his cane. He turned around, ready for the huge speech the man was about to give him.

Lucius cleared his throat. "There's..." He stopped himself to collect his thought, then spoke again. "Look, Potter...if anything happens to my son..."