Chapter 5
Draco barely had time to gather himself before the door swung open.
Harry stood there, looking pale and exhausted, his green eyes frantic as they landed on Draco.
"Draco," he breathed, stepping inside.
Pansy let out a sharp scoff, crossing her arms. "Absolutely not."
Harry ignored her, moving straight to Draco’s side. His hands trembled as he reached out but hesitated, as if unsure whether Draco would let him touch him.
Draco stared at him, his chest aching. Why does he look so broken?
"Love," Harry whispered, his voice tight. "Why didn’t you tell me?"
Draco wanted to laugh—tell you what, Harry? That I saw you with her? That I saw your child? That I’ve been breaking apart trying to keep this family together while you’ve been living another life?
But the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, Narcissa stood, her icy gaze piercing into Harry. "Tell you?" she repeated, voice full of quiet fury. "You mean to say you didn’t notice?"
Harry swallowed hard, looking at her with barely concealed guilt. "I—I knew he was tired. I tried to help—"
"Tried?" Pansy cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tried when, exactly? Between playing house with your other family?"
Harry flinched, turning back to Draco. "Love, please," he murmured. "Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how to fix this."
Draco closed his eyes. He was so tired. He didn’t want to fight. Didn’t want to scream or cry or beg for an explanation.
He just wanted Harry to hold him and tell him it wasn’t true.
But he had seen it.
"You lied to me." Draco’s voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Harry’s eyes widened in panic. "Draco, I never lied to you," he swore. "Whatever you think, whatever you’ve heard—I love you, I love our family—"
Draco let out a shaky breath. "Then tell me," he said. His hands clenched the hospital sheets. "Tell me who she is. Tell me who that child is."
Silence.
A long, suffocating silence.
Harry’s expression changed—his shoulders tensed, his mouth opened, then closed. The guilt in his eyes said everything.
Draco’s heart cracked. "Don’t lie to me again, Harry."
Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I didn’t cheat on you," he said, voice desperate. "It’s not what you think—"
"Then tell me what it is," Draco cut in, his voice shaking.
Harry hesitated.
And that hesitation shattered what little hope Draco had left.
Narcissa let out a cold breath. "That’s what I thought," she murmured.
Pansy’s hands clenched into fists. "You bastard," she spat.
Draco turned his head away, unable to look at him anymore.
"Leave."
Harry’s breath caught. "Draco—"
"Leave," Draco repeated, voice barely above a whisper.
Harry looked devastated, but when he hesitated again, Pansy stepped forward. "You heard him. Get out."
Harry’s lips parted, as if he wanted to argue, but then his shoulders slumped. His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for Draco, to touch him, to fix this.
But he had already broken it.
With one last look—one last, painful look—Harry turned and walked out the door.
The moment it closed behind him, Draco let out a shuddering breath, his body trembling.
And for the first time in weeks, he finally let himself cry.