A/N: I said I'd post on Friday, but it's already Friday everywhere other than here in the Americas, and I have time tonight, so you're getting it a few hours early. Enjoy. đź’›

Chapter 2

It was almost an hour before Hermione arrived at St Mungo's. Draco had managed to pull himself together, clean his face, and get some tea for himself and his aunt. His mother had arrived to keep her company, so Draco was sitting in the waiting area when Hermione stalked down the hallway from the lifts.

"Draco," she said, sounding exhausted.

"Hermione." He could hear the plea in his voice. He was too tired and emotionally exhausted to care. It was just past midnight and there was still no word from Harry.

She sat down next to him, and when Ron joined them, she put up a privacy charm obscuring their voices and faces from others milling around nearby. "Right," she started. "So, I'll cut right to what we know."

Draco nodded, thankful for Hermione's down-to-business attitude. He didn't know if he could handle sympathy at the moment.

"Harry and Teddy left the ministry together around five o'clock this afternoon. A call had come in about a routine underage magic report in Durham, and Auror Michelson says Harry thought it'd be a decent training opportunity for Teddy. He claimed it'd be a good experience talking to witnesses and calling in Obliviators, if necessary, and then following through on filing the required paperwork after. Officially, Harry's name is on the sheets for Auror assigned to the call, so when Teddy came in, it didn't flag Harry's case."

Draco listened, his skin feeling like ice.

"We sent a team to the location of the report…" Hermione's voice grew quiet, and Draco met her eyes.

"Tell me."

Her mouth grew firm. "There are signs of a struggle at the residence and three dead bodies. Two were Spanish citizens living here for work: a wizard named Alexander Torres and his Muggle wife, Sophia. They were both killed with magic; it's too soon to say what spells were used. The third was a British citizen, Alexander's cousin. He was found separately from the others and was buried under a wall that caved in. Aurors on the scene believe the force of the wall-collapse killed him." She paused and took a deep breath. "And there's a child who appears to be unaccounted for, and Harry wasn't there."

Draco swallowed, but if Harry wasn't there, that means he was somewhere else. And that was good. He wasn't lying dead in some house in northern England.

"So now what?" Ron asked.

"I have two teams on the case trying to find out what happened. If Teddy wakes up—"

"The Healers say he'll need to remain unconscious for at least another day," Draco interrupted. "The damage was pretty extreme."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Shit," she muttered. She met his gaze. "We don't know where he is and sending a Patronus might make things worse. And honestly, if he can't respond, that won't help."

Draco propped his elbows onto his knees and dropped his head into his hands. "He wasn't supposed to be in danger anymore. That was the whole point of being off the active force."

"I know," she said quietly.

He felt Ron sit down on his other side. "This is Harry. He's always okay. He'll get out of this and get a message to us somehow."

Draco sat up and looked at Ron. "Say that again?"

Ron tilted his head like he thought Draco had lost his mind. "It's Harry. He'll be okay."

"No, the other part. About a message."

"That he'll get us a message somehow?"

"Fuck. Message. Hermione," Draco said, looking at her. She'd sat up straight at his change of tone. "If I had an item with a Protean Charm placed on it and Harry had the other, could you use it to trace him?"

She looked interested. "Are they paired with only each other? Or are there others in the charm?"

"Just each other," Draco said, feeling hope flare in his chest. He didn't know for sure if Harry still carried it—Draco had stopped carrying his when Harry went off active duty—but it'd been in Harry's wallet for years, and he was a little superstitious about things like that. Draco was willing to bet it was still there.

Draco rushed from the fireplace and up the stairs to his and Harry's bedroom. He strode to his bureau and opened the valet tray. Pushing aside cufflinks, rings, his father's watch, he finally found it: a small, bronze knut.

He was afraid to pick it up, afraid to see what might be printed upon it. Hermione entered behind him and cleared her throat.

"Did you find it?"

He nodded. "I'm afraid to look. I used to always have it when he was away on missions, or even at work. He never used it, but it was there, you know? Just in case."

Hermione came up beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Neither of you ever mentioned it, not even when he was in Syria."

Syria. It had only been the previous year—nearly five years after that mission that had Harry gone for over seven months—that Draco had finally learned where Harry had been during that time. Looking back, he was glad he hadn't known the danger in which his husband had truly been.

Draco stepped back from the bureau. "I can't look. Take it, please."

"If you're sure." She stepped forwards and picked up the coin, then gasped. "It's warm."

Draco fell to his knees. "Read it."

There were tears audible in Hermione's voice when she spoke. "Love you. Sorry." She was quiet for a moment while Draco felt his world fall apart around him. "That's it. But Draco, that doesn't mean he's not okay."

"He'd only use it as a last resort," Draco managed, a numbness taking over his body. "He'd not use it otherwise, because he knows what it'd do to me."

"No." Hermione dropped to the floor in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders. "Draco, look at me. I can use this to track him. This just means he has it with him, and we can use it. This is Harry. He will be okay."

Draco simply stared at the fuzzy hairs curling around her face.

He heard her cast a spell and saw a white light zip from the room, then several minutes later, Pansy was there and pulling him up, and Hermione was gone. He was sitting in a chair by their bedroom window, his and Harry's bedroom…his and Harry's…

"Oh Gods," he let out, a sob escaping him.

"Stop it," Pansy's voice cut him off, a cup of tea suddenly appearing in his hands. "Granger's teams are tracking the coin. You've saved them hours, Draco." He looked down at the teacup in front of him, wondering what he was supposed to do with it. "Drink."

So he drank, but in the process, he realised his hand was shaking and he managed to spill the tepid tea on his shirt. He couldn't bring himself to care.

Sometime later, he was unsure how long or how it happened, he found himself tucked into his bed. He was wearing pyjamas, and Pansy was curled up next to him, her eyes softer than he'd ever seen them before.

"Sleep, darling. I'll wake you when we hear anything." Her hands brushed through his hair, and he drifted off.

Draco woke to a bright light in his bedroom. He opened his eyes to a vibrant, transparent Jack Russell terrier floating above his bed, speaking with Weasley's voice.

"…doesn't look good, but he's here and they're working on him. Let Malfoy sleep. I'll send you an update as soon as we have it."

Pansy looked down at Draco and reached out her hand. He took it. "How much of that did you hear?"

"I don't know," Draco said, sitting up. His voice sounded rough, like he'd been yelling for hours. "They have him, and he's alive."

She nodded. "They found him about twenty minutes ago, evidently. It's nearly six in the morning now. Why don't you try to get some more sleep."

Draco shook his head and swung his feet off the side of the bed. "I have to go. I have to be there. If he doesn't make it, and I wasn't there—"

He stopped himself. Talking wasn't worth it. He had to get there.

Pansy hurried into his closet and brought him his favourite, softest trousers and another one of Harry's jumpers. He'd kiss her if he could bring himself to show any emotion, but it was all he could do to hold himself together at the moment. Instead, he let her cast a quick spell on his hair, cleaning it and settling it neatly, and then reached for his shoes.

"Draco," Pansy said as he left the room, "I'll be right behind you."

He nodded then ran to the Floo.

St Mungo's felt completely different than it had the night before. Healers swarmed the area and Aurors guarded the hallways, but they nodded Draco through to where he found a sea of redheads waiting.

Draco stopped, a flashback of the time so many years ago when he'd approached a similar scene with trepidation. This time, however, he was one of them. He was family.

"Draco," Angelina murmured, closest to where he was standing. She pulled him into a hug, but he couldn't bring himself to lean into it. He was afraid it might make him fall over completely. She seemed to understand, though, and stepped back with a smile. "Ron is over there," she said quietly, pointing to a door with two Aurors stationed outside it.

Across from Ron, Hermione sat with a woman in a purple, Muggle pantsuit, and a little boy.

The child was about three or four years old, with loose, dark brown curls falling across his forehead and over his ears. His skin was golden, perhaps of Mediterannean heritage, and though his small cheeks were streaked with remnants of tears, he was silent.

Draco stepped closer and Hermione saw him, said something to the woman and child, then stood and gestured him over.

Draco's eyes met Ron's; Draco filed away the sorrow and pity he saw in the blue eyes to be considered later. For now, he needed to not think about any of it. He needed to concentrate on facts.

"What's wrong with him?" Draco demanded from Ron as Hermione joined them. "I need to know." He took a deep breath. "Please."

Ron looked at Hermione. As head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she'd been receiving the updates from the medical staff in Draco's absence.

"He's been cursed, and they haven't been able to identify it yet. It's turning his magic against him, which is slowly destroying his body. He was in a lot of pain when we found him, but he was conscious and protecting the child. The more magic he used, the more it rebounded on him."

Draco felt the world start to spin, and Ron's arm shot out to steady him.

"They have him under a Stasis Charm so it can't do any more damage while they figure out what the curse is and how to counter it." She waited until Draco looked up into her face. "We'll figure it out, Draco. We're tracking down leads, and we're going through the brother's house to see if we can find any reference to spells that could do something like this."

He was so confused. It was too much information, and none of it seemed to matter. Still, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "I thought the brother was killed too. I don't understand."

Hermione turned to look at the little boy who was now sitting on the other woman's lap, asleep. Her voice turned quiet and maternal. "Little Alex, there, is our witness to the uncle's attack on the family. He's traumatised, and we're having to be very careful with how we ask questions, but he's answering how he can. Children are unreliable witnesses in court, but they still see and hear things that can help."

Draco looked at the little boy sleeping restlessly in the woman's arms. This child held Draco's whole life in his hands.

When Draco was finally allowed to see Harry, when the Healers were finally satisfied that he was stable and that the Stasis Charm was holding Harry's magic at bay, it was almost too much. Draco wanted to run away, wanted to run home and pretend none of it was happening. He wanted to pick Lyra up from the Burrow and cuddle with her in her bed and tell her stories, knowing that Harry would be home before dinnertime, and he'd maybe have Teddy with him and they'd all sit down together as a family.

His family.

Instead, he walked into the sterile-smelling hospital room and stared at the person who formed the cornerstone of that family lying unconscious on the bed. It seemed like days ago instead of just a matter of hours since he'd walked in to see Teddy in another room, the same monitoring charms displayed above his unconscious body.

But where the Healers had known how to fix Teddy, they'd had confidence that he'd be okay, there was no reassurance for Harry. Stasis Charms only worked for so long. They might be able to keep them on for a few days, maybe a week, but the charms would begin to fail as Harry's body fought against them, demanding to proceed with that natural routine of life.

Draco sat down in the chair next to the hospital bed and stared at the man he knew so well.

Harry's dark hair, usually so untamed, lay lank around his face, accentuating the grey hairs that peppered around the temples. The beard Draco loved so much had been shaved by the Healers so they'd have a better indication if and when the Stasis Charms began to fail, as Harry's beard would begin to grow again. It was a better indicator than even their monitoring charms, but Draco hated it. Harry loved that Draco loved his beard. And though Draco knew it would grow back in just a matter of a few days, it still didn't feel right.

And Harry's mouth, his ever-moving, ever-twitching, ever-expressive mouth with the lips that Draco loved to kiss and sometimes still, even after all these years, itched to punch from time to time—he didn't, of course, but no one knew how to get under his skin like Harry—this mouth was still. So still. So lifeless.

Draco had no idea how long he'd sat there, staring, but the light coming through the window was dimmer, falling low on the London skyline when the door opened. He'd ignored the same door multiple other times throughout the day, Mediwitches, Healers, Aurors coming in and leaving, none of them disturbing him.

This time, however, the sound of his mother's voice drew his attention. "Draco, darling, you need to eat. Molly sent some soup." His mother pulled over the rolling hospital table in front of his chair and put down a covered bowl. She pulled off the lid and set out a spoon, then a glass of water.

When he didn't move to take it, she nudged his hand. "You have to eat. Harry needs you to be strong. Lyra needs you to be healthy. Eat."

"Lyra," he finally said and picked up his spoon. The food was probably delicious—Molly's soup generally was—but he could hardly taste it.

"She's fine. Molly hasn't told any of the children what's going on, just that they're having an extended sleepover. Lyra is happy and well and playing with Rose and Hugo."

Draco nodded, feeling guilty at not having worried about his daughter in all of this. He'd thought of her, but not concerned himself with her well-being. He looked at Harry again. This is one of the millions of reasons why I need you. I'm a shit parent without you. I'm a shit everything without you.

He felt his eyes burn and blinked back the tears, taking another bite of his soup that tasted like dust in his mouth. They sat in silence, his mother's gentle presence a comfort he hadn't known he needed.

Eventually, he pushed his soup away and sat back, but the door opened again. Hermione entered carrying the young boy from earlier. She approached the bed, pointing to Harry. "See, he's here. We're working hard to get him better."

The little boy muttered something in Hermione's ear, and she nodded before setting him down. He walked over to Harry's bed, the side opposite where Draco was sitting, and took Harry's finger. He just stood there, staring at Harry, and held on.

Draco looked at Hermione, hoping for an explanation. She pushed a chair up for the child, helping him to sit, and then she sighed and rounded the bed. Narcissa got up and offered her chair making Hermione smile, the gratitude clear on her face.

She looked tired, and she looked determined. But she didn't look sad, which helped more than Draco could possibly say. She nodded to the boy, and Draco could see the child had laid his head down next to Harry's hand and was falling asleep.

"From what we can tell, Harry saved him. He's not talking much, but he's said enough. His name is Alex, like his father, and he said his uncle hurt his mum and dad and then hurt Harry and Teddy when they came to help. He said Harry took him away to the safe house where we found them hiding in Scarborough." She paused and gave a little smile. "Actually, he said he 'disappeared them away'."

Draco felt his lips twitch at the childish explanation for Apparition. He wouldn't have thought he had it in him to find humour in anything at the moment.

"Anyway, Harry told him stories and took care of him, despite getting sicker, and promised he'd introduce him to his Draco and Lyra when they were safe."

And Draco could see it—Harry, his magic eating away at his body, worrying about the small child he'd saved, telling him stories to keep him calm, giving him something to look forward to.

"Draco," Hermione said quietly. "The curse that hit Harry… Going by what Alex told us, Harry had already sent Teddy to St Mungo's, but Alex saw it and heard it. He's three, so obviously he can't tell us more, but…"

She hesitated and appeared to be waiting on Draco to consider. He thought through what she'd said. "Can you take a memory from a child?"

She smiled weakly. "If they trust you, it's possible. Unfortunately, Laurel, the woman in charge of Alex at the moment, hasn't been able to track down any family or other adults who he'd trust."

Draco felt the sliver of hope that had begun to bloom slip away. "Then we're back to blindly searching."

She took his hand. "Not exactly. Draco, he's asking for you. Alex wanted to see Harry, but he also asked for Harry's Draco. I think…" Her brown eyes met his. "…I think he sees you as an extension of Harry, as someone who will protect him. I think he might trust you enough, and he wants to help Harry get better."

Draco looked at the boy, his dark brown curls falling over Harry's still hand, and wondered what he was getting himself into.

A/N: I'm sorry! I know, I know, so much angsty hurt-comfort, but bear with me, we'll pull out of it soon enough. But we got to meet Alex!