Chap 2
"Are you awake, Harry?" Mrs. Tonks's voice sounded right beside his ear.
The moment he barely fluttered his eyelids, Mrs. Tonks quickly stood up and hurried to find Healer-in-Charge Smethwyck.
Before Harry could even see his surroundings clearly, the sound of rustling, hurried footsteps echoed. The ward door burst open and shut immediately after, the sound of footsteps fading into the distance until it vanished altogether.
He slowly raised his hand, taking the tiny hand resting against his cheek. He gently stroked Teddy's soft, milk-scented skin, as if seeking to feel more clearly the warmth of a living body.
Harry was trying to distinguish where the dream ended and reality began.
His heavy eyelids slowly fluttered open, and he stared vaguely up at the pale white ceiling.
He was in the hospital...
Teddy was sitting on the bed right next to Harry. Reaching out, Harry picked the little boy up and held him in his arms. The toddler rarely stayed still for long, so Harry had to anchor him before he could tumble onto the floor.
The small weight resting against his chest grounded him, making everything feel real and bringing a sense of comfort. He also realized Teddy had grown quite a bit since they last met.
Just then, faint footsteps approached the room.
It was not Mrs. Tonks.
Only when a neatly combed head of platinum blonde hair came into view did Harry realize who it was.
"Don't you know how to knock, Malfoy?"
His dry throat made his voice sound raspy; it seemed he had been asleep for a very long time.
It seemed Draco did not mind Harry's tone either. Caught in the act, he straightened his back and walked fully into the room, his stride remaining as composed as ever.
"I thought you were still asleep, so I came in to check..." He paused briefly. "Let me pour you a glass of water."
This was a private ward in the section reserved for Ministry officials, reasonably well-equipped with amenities. Draco walked over to the bedside table and picked up a glass.
On the surface, he remained serene, yet his hand holding the glass was unsteady, causing the water's surface to ripple softly.
He had hesitated for a very long time before stepping into this room.
Draco set the glass of water down on the bedside table for a moment, then adjusted the bed for Harry. Only when he saw that Harry could sit up firmly did he hand the warm glass of water to him.
Harry reached out to take it, stopping Draco's next movement in its tracks.
"Thanks."
"Looks like the duties of Deputy Minister are a bit too much for you, isn't that right, Pottah? You look so gaunt and emaciated, as if you've been starved to the point of fainting and being carried into a hospital." His way of speaking was as insufferable as ever.
Harry did not bother to reply—explaining would be tedious, and he lacked the energy for it anyway. Though Draco's words sounded mocking, Harry could still detect a trace of genuine concern beneath them.
Having been rivals throughout their school years, Harry never expected a time would come when a single sentence or a mere glance would allow him to understand Draco so effortlessly.
Even lovers didn't always understand each other that well.
Harry chuckled at the thought, though the smile did nothing to brighten his pale face.
"Mr. Malfoy, what brings you here? Are you really so idle that you stopped by just to sneer at me?" Harry asked.
After their reunion at the trial, Harry had paid little to no attention to the Malfoys' affairs, let alone Draco—a man who had opposed him on every front.
Draco replied casually, "I'm interning in the Potions Department, about to become a permanent employee... I passed the selection exam through my own merit and got in."
The implication was clear enough; he meant to say: I am talented, and I accomplished this on my own without relying on my father.
Harry smirked. "Are you boasting to me?"
For a brief second, Harry felt as though this conversation belonged to two old acquaintances catching up after a long time.
They had never been close.
From the very first time they met, Draco had always targeted him—at least, that was how Harry remembered it.
Draco froze. "Truth be told, I wanted to see you... to offer a proper thank you."
He hesitated. "I assumed you disliked me. So I didn't dare bother you with a letter or drop by your workplace."
Before Harry could reply, several pairs of footsteps echoed outside the door, forcing him to swallow back the words he was about to speak.
Mrs. Tonks entered alongside Healer-in-Charge Smethwyck. The moment her eyes landed on Draco, her gaze narrowed, instantly shifting into a guarded posture.
She demanded, her voice low and tense, "Malfoy... what are you doing here? What do you want from Harry? Don't you dare take advantage of his condition to push him around."
It was hardly surprising that she harbored such deep resentment toward pure-blood supremacy and former Death Eaters.
She hailed from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, yet she had chosen to marry a Muggle-born wizard, earning herself a permanent erasure from the family tree. After the war, she bore the heaviest, most direct scars of all.
Her husband had been hunted down and murdered by Death Eaters. When the dust finally settled, she found herself stripped of her daughter and the son-in-law she had only just welcomed into her life.
Now, she had only Teddy and Harry left. Though Harry shared no blood with her, they were family all the same, bound together in raising Teddy.
"Mrs. Tonks..." Harry's voice was gentle and low, just enough to bring her a sense of calm.
He turned toward Draco. "I hear you. You should leave now."
Draco pressed his lips together, nodded, and swiftly exited the room.
Mrs. Tonks pulled Teddy into her arms and sat down in the armchair beside the bed, gently rubbing the boy's back as if to soothe herself.
Healer-in-Charge Smethwyck brought in a thick folder. He glanced around at everyone in the room before opening it.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. I will now explain your condition..." He paused for a beat. "We may discuss this in Mrs. Tonks's presence, correct?"
Harry nodded, his hands intertwined beneath the blanket as he listened intently.
Smethwyck adjusted his specs, his movements measured as though weighing every word. Truth be told, he was hardly the sort to beat around the bush.
"Here is the situation... the fragment of soul dwelling within you was never truly destroyed."
"It has become a chronic condition... incurable. It grinds away at your spirit and your vital energy, seeping into your daily life."
"A shift in personality is the most visible symptom... you'll find yourself easily angered, melancholic, and prone to volatile mood swings. Yet I see you are holding it back remarkably well..."
"That may spare those around you, but for you, it is a crushing burden—you are enduring far too much."
Beneath the blanket, his hands tightened instinctively. Harry stared down at his knuckles, turned stark white from the strain, his face devoid of emotion—though deep down, he understood.
A suffocating knot rose in his chest, only to be forced back down once more.
"Why?" he asked. "Wasn't my willingness to die for everyone supposed to destroy that soul shard... why hasn't this ended?"
The Healer-in-Charge sighed softly.
"I tried to trace the cause back... it likely has to do with the Elder Wand. It neither obeyed nor recognized the Dark Lord as its master. Because of that, the curse was incomplete."
"Before it could fully vanish, a fragment of it clung to the inside of you... and it recognizes that you are actively suppressing it."
He looked directly at Harry. "You realized this long ago, didn't you?"
Harry gave a faint nod.
Smethwyck continued, "To be frank with you, I have no cure for this condition. The only way forward is to suppress the internal decay... to buy you more time."
"That's impossible!"
Mrs. Tonks was the first to react, her voice cracking into a raw sob. Her breath caught in her throat as tears streamed down her face.
Her trembling hand clutched tightly at the Healer's outer robes, clinging to him as if begging for a denial from the very man who had just delivered the final verdict.
She desperately wished she had misheard.
"After everything he's suffered... after everything he's had to endure alone... even facing death itself... now you tell us... he doesn't have much time left?"
Yet Harry remained calmer and accepted the truth far faster than anyone else in the room.
"So, how much time do you reckon I have left?"
His voice was so faint it almost dissolved into the air. This time, he surrendered to his fate even faster than the time he had walked to his death to end the war.
The room fell quiet, save for Mrs. Tonks's stifled sobs.
Harry pressed again, emphasizing every word: "My time... can you give me an exact figure, Healer-in-Charge?"
Smethwyck let out a helpless sigh. He knew better than to display bleak emotions in front of a patient, but the man sitting before him was Harry Potter. His passing would be mourned by the entire wizarding world...
"At most... six months."
Harry did not react much, his face settling into an indescribable, heavy quiet.
The Healer-in-Charge quickly shifted to a more serious tone, the sort intended to reassure a patient... even if it felt useless when delivered right after a death sentence.
"Your case is being given top priority by the Director himself. The hospital has assembled a research team to refine a potion that can slow the spread of the dark energy. Rest assured, this treatment is being developed based on a formula originally crafted by Professor Snape."
Harry smiled—a polite, distant smile.
"Then I am counting on you, Healer." He paused briefly. "One more thing: I want to be discharged tomorrow. My work cannot afford any delays... I need to put everything in order before I no longer have the strength. And I expect this matter to be kept strictly confidential..."
"Of course! Patient confidentiality is our sworn duty," Smethwyck replied. "As for your discharge, I must keep you under observation a little longer. If I let you rush back into work and exhaust yourself to the brink again, fully knowing your condition, I'll be in severe trouble with the Director."
Harry did not object, though he fully intended to bring up his early discharge again soon enough.
He shifted the conversation to something else. "I need some parchment. Could you have someone bring me a few sheets?"
The Healer pushed up his specs. "Do you need it urgently? I can bring some over once I'm finished with my rounds."
"It's not urgent... thank you, Healer-in-Charge."
With that, Smethwyck took his leave; he truly had plenty of other duties awaiting him.
Only then did Harry turn his gaze back toward Mrs. Tonks. He reached out and gathered Teddy into his arms.
His voice remained soft and weightless. "Please don't be so heartbroken. Some things... simply cannot be changed."
He spoke as if issuing a gentle parting request: "From now on, we shouldn't see each other as often. I don't know how much longer I can keep this under control. Sooner or later, it will begin to affect those around me."
"We have to keep our Teddy safe."
He steadied Teddy into a standing position and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. The little boy giggled warmly, his chubby cheeks flushing a bright pink.
"I hope Teddy grows up as strong as a dragon, happy and thriving... I wonder what he'll grow up wanting to do?"
The blessing was spoken with deep sincerity, as though Harry were pouring the entire remainder of his life into that single moment.
Mrs. Tonks buried her face in her hands and turned away, her shoulders trembling softly, utterly beyond words.
Harry seemed not to notice, well aware that he was in no position to offer comfort when his own spirits were hardly any better.
He turned back to Mrs. Tonks. "Please take care of yourself. Teddy needs you."
He lifted Teddy up to eye level with Mrs. Tonks. "Teddy... you have to love your grandmother very much, alright?"
Hearing Teddy's soft coos and babbles, Mrs. Tonks forced a faint smile through her tears.
After much gentle coaxing from Harry, she finally agreed to take Teddy and head home.
Left entirely alone, Harry felt the room plunge into a deep quiet—a silence so profound it left his chest hollow.
He lowered the bed himself and stared absently up at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused, gazing at nothing in particular.
In his head, he began cataloging every single thing he still needed to do, listing each task one by one, sorting them meticulously in clear order of priority.
At the same time, outside the main hall of St. Mungo's Hospital.
"Healer-in-Charge Smethwyck!"
Draco lengthened his stride, calling out as he hurried after him.
Fortunately, this area was well away from the wards, and with it being past shift hours, only a handful of staff remained on duty in the hall.
Fearing that Mrs. Tonks might lose her composure and try to lash out at him again if they crossed paths, Draco had stepped aside for a while. He had been waiting nearby all along, and the moment he spotted the Healer, he bolted after him, nearly failing to catch up.
Hearing his name, Smethwyck slowed his pace.
His tone turned stern. "No running in the corridors, Mr. Malfoy... and do refrain from raising your voice like that."
Catching up to him, Draco panted lightly. "My apologies, Healer-in-Charge... I have a favor to ask of you."
Smethwyck mistook it for an academic inquiry, considering Draco's supervisor was off duty today.
"Very well, I have a few moments to spare. Come into my office and I shall answer your questions. Mind you, I am hardly an expert in Potions composition like your mentor."
"It isn't an academic matter," Draco replied. "I wish to inquire about Potter's condition. If possible... could you assign me to oversee his ward?"
Smethwyck waved a hand dismissively. "There's no need for that."
Smethwyck let out a heavy sigh and turned to walk away, his posture radiating exhaustion. Draco, however, was not about to give up so easily and pressed on right behind him.
"I truly only wish to help..." Draco urged. "He once aided my family, and I want to use this opportunity to return the favor."
"I am aware of your gratitude toward Mr. Potter, and that is commendable. However, the Director is paying close attention to Mr. Potter's condition and personally appointed me to oversee his care... I cannot make arbitrary staffing decisions here."
He paused briefly before adding, "Besides, Mr. Potter is already seeking an early discharge..."
Draco caught his breath, momentarily at a loss for words.
Smethwyck looked down at the stack of parchment in his hands, then handed both the parchment and a quill over to Draco.
"Take these to Mr. Potter. If you can convince him to request you as his primary carer... things will be much easier."
Draco stared at the parchment in his arms, then glanced in the direction of the departing Healer-in-Charge.
"He was never this diligent back at Hogwarts... yet the moment he enters the workforce, he turns into a completely different person. Working himself into a hospital bed and he still refuses to rest..." he muttered under his breath. "Potter's gone and evolved into a total workaholic."
Still, presented with an opportunity, Draco was determined to give it another shot.
Standing before Harry's door, he hesitated for a brief moment before knocking twice.
"Come in."
He opened the door, poking only half his body inside first.
"Malfoy?" Harry frowned. "Are you here to pick a fight with me again?"
Draco stepped in calmly with a proud, composed stride, holding up the stack of parchment. "I was asked to bring these to you."
Harry looked at him, his eyes filled with suspicion. "Is there no one else working in this entire hospital?"
Draco shrugged. "Truth be told... I've been assigned to monitor your ward. Thought I'd come by and let you know."
Harry clearly didn't buy it, yet found the situation somewhat amusing... Draco looked entirely different from before.
Harry paused for a moment. "Sounds pretty dubious, doesn't it?"
Draco handed over the stack of parchment. "Suit yourself."
Harry took the sheets and pulled the bedside table closer, clearly unwilling to prolong the argument.
Draco shrugged. He had no intention of leaving the ward just yet, nor was he in any rush to persuade Harry. Stepping around the bed, he settled into the armchair beside the window, his posture distinctly casual.
Harry merely cast a quick glance his way—as if ensuring the Malfoy heir wasn't about to cause trouble—and then promptly ignored him. Bending his head, he set to work.
He was currently helming a multitude of critical projects, including major legislative amendments that were still stuck in heated debates. He needed to steer everything to a stable finish before handing the reins over to someone else.
Then there was the matter of house-elf rights. Hermione had droned on about it throughout their school years, and though they had often teased her, Harry had never truly forgotten.
As for his personal assets, it was time to draft a proper will to distribute everything he owned.
And then, Ginny... in this life, he owed her far too much, and perhaps it was finally time to let go. He couldn't let her go on foolishly waiting for him forever. Someone who constantly had to place death above his own lover had no right to talk about love anyway. Harry only hoped Ginny would find a partner who truly deserved her.
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