Disclaimer: Not mine. No money exchanged. No offence or infringement intended. Doing this just for fun.
A/N: Same warnings as before. This chapter is dedicated to dairygirl whose encouragement has kept me writing.—Thank you.
2.
Dad stood watching us, leaning heavily on his cane. His husband and his surviving son sharing one of those quiet moments he was typically too energetic to still himself for. I curled into Father drawing my feet up underneath me in blatant violation of the rules of decorum. That Father made no comment was proof enough the world was shifting on its axis.
"Dad?" I reached out my hand again and he took it sitting on my opposite side.
"Hmm?"
"How long do we have?" I whispered.
Dad squeezed my hand and leaned back into the couch. "Not long enough," he sighed, tilting his head back. I caught sight of his glistening eyes anyway and felt my own start to burn.
He cleared his throat and sat upright. "Three, maybe four months. I-I'll try Alex, as hard as I can…" he swallowed thickly. "Ultimately, it's not about how much time we have. It's about how we spend it," he added softly.
I nodded and gave in to the tears pressing at the back of my eyes. Dad brushed them away as they fell. "I won't tell you not to be angry…Hell, I'm angry. But I want you and Claire to try your best to understand and accept this. We really have exhausted all our options. We've done everything we possibly could." Dad chuckled lightly, "I don't think there's a Wizarding hospital left in the Northern Hemisphere we haven't visited." He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "And your father's been ejected from nearly all of them for hexing or threatening to hex the healers. He's got a bit of a temper you know."
Despite myself I chuckled, then turned to kiss his cheek. Dad smiled sadly, "Now speaking of time. I don't have enough to waste any on sullen hurt so…ah—" He levered himself off the couch slowly, "I'm going to go find that daughter of mine."
Father and I looked up at him, ready to accompany him, but he waved us off. "Stay here. Claire and I need to talk." He rolled his head on his shoulders and made his way toward the stairs.
We watched him go and continued to sit in companionable silence. I thought about tapping into Father's thoughts but knew he would shut me out as none but the Headmaster could. I figured we'd both be content to sit there saying nothing for hours, but there was something I wanted—I needed to know.
"This is why you shut yourselves off isn't it? Why you kept me out?"
Father removed his arm from my shoulders and clasped his hands in front of him. "We…didn't want you to know before you were told. With…the treatments…Harry didn't think he could occlude well enough to keep you from picking up more than you should by accident." Father looked at me, "You tend to go deeper than people expect. So we cut off any link you had to us telepathically." He turned his gaze back to his hands, "I know it was hard suddenly, not having us there and I-I'm sorry we worried you. It was your Dad's decision to make and I felt…we thought…we didn't…"
Picking up where he trailed off I finished the thought, "You didn't wan t us knowing how much pain there was…for both of you."
His jaw twitched and he answered me with a curt nod. "I'm sorry," he breathed.
And I knew he wasn't just apologising for shutting down our link. This was my father—who loved us, protected us fiercely, who taught us about pride and honour and spoiled us rotten, though he'd deny it; my father who would give us the world if it was his to offer, and who could make everything right. But this he couldn't make this right. Despite all his wealth and knowledge, his skill and cunning, he couldn't heal Dad or give us more time.
I took his hands in mine, for the first time feeling like I needed to protect and comfort him. "It's okay Father. It's not your fault," I said firmly.
He nodded again, "I know. But knowing doesn't seem to make it better."
Father sat back and ran a hand through his hair and it occurred to me that this is how he talked with Uncle Blaise or Aunt Hermione. This was Draco, as he was with his friends, the adults he trusted. And in that moment I realised that I really had grown up. I was truly an adult now and Father was treating me as such. It was both a thrilling and frightening insight.
"He's in a lot of pain isn't he?" I asked finally. No matter how I wished it, I couldn't hide in my father's lap and wait for this to go away. I had to face all of it.
Father's clenched jaw was the only answer I needed.
"I can feel a bit of it," I said. I'd felt it since they'd picked us up from King's Cross though I hadn't told Claire. I was feeling a bit guilty about that, and knew she was going to be rather angry with me later. From what I could feel I knew that Dad was putting a lot of energy into shielding me, muffling the traces I would pick up from him. "He's protecting me," I said at last, "He should stop, it's too draining."
Father sighed, "He won't…we've discussed it. Since you're home and we're in such close proximity you can't help but feel him and he doesn't want you to take on more than you should."
"But I could help. I could draw some of it away."
"No Alexander, and don't push it," He held up his hand a clear sign that it wasn't up for discussion. "You've enough to handle with all of us wearing our hearts on our sleeves. Do not add to your burden by trying to siphon off Harry's physical pain as well." His eyes were firm and clear. It was not a request, but an order, and a warning to not make any attempts on his mental walls either.
I nodded, willing to let it go for now. My parents' will was stronger than I could tackle at the moment anyway, my own emotions being as volatile as they were.
Tbc…
