5:00 PM that Day: Royal London Hospital

...

Draco Malfoy sat with his head in his hands. His eyes were red and puffy, and he had snot stains on his shirt. He couldn't do this; he couldn't handle losing Harry.

He's not dead yet. The voice niggled at Draco from the back of his head.

He was very near dead, however.

That morning, Draco Malfoy had been working at his desk near his supervisors when they had both received an urgent page from the emergency room. There had been a five car pile-up on the interstate this morning and they needed extra hands. Draco and his residential supervisor made their way to the ER and were faced with utter chaos. There was blood all over the floor, crying children, and mourning spouses and parents. Of course, this wasn't Draco's first time in a situation like this, so it didn't faze him; much.

"Doctor Malfoy!" A nurse he knew well, Deborah, called out to him. "Please take these patients. They are some of the more serious ones that require a doctor present."

He flipped through the files and began making his way round the room. By the sixth file, he was tired. Three of the patients had already died, and another one was close.

He walked to the next privacy partition, nurse in tow, and opened the curtain, not even so much as glancing at the file that was once in his hands. It was now on the floor, coated in sick and blood.

"Doctor Malfoy?" The nurse said, anger rising in her eyes at the hesitancy in his work.

Draco finally broke out of his gaze and ran to the side of the bed. "Harry?!" He had said. "Harry!" He shouted. His training instincts had told him to be calm and assess the situation and ask for help, but his instincts as a husband were taking over. Lying in the bed was Harry Potter, intravenous fluids dripping through their tubes and into his arm and throughout his bloodstream, a sling holding his leg up, a nurse mending the laceration on his thigh and the break through his femur, and a tracheostomy.

"Nurse Deborah, please call Doctor Patterson over. This is my husband."

Doctor Patterson had excused Draco from work for the rest of the day and Harry had been stabilized. His heart had stopped on the operating table when he had been rushed in for bleeding on the brain, and he had a collapsed lung and trachea. Along with these injuries was a broken fibula on his left leg, thirteen broken metatarsals on the left side, and a completely shattered femur on his right side. His right arm had a complete break through both the radial and ulna bones. Needless to say, he was not in good shape. He had been placed in a medically induced coma to stay stable and out of pain.

Scorpius, Draco and Harry's seven-year-old son, had been in the car with Harry. Even though the car had been the third car in the pile-up, and the most damaged, Scorpius had come out with only scratches on his face and arms.

He's not dead yet, Draco kept repeating to himself, even as he sat on the couch in Harry's hospital room. Scorpius had been picked up by Narcissa Malfoy, leaving Draco to pace and sit and go crazy waiting for good news.

Of course, Draco knew how likely Harry was to come out of this, but he kept pushing the logical, doctor thoughts out of his head, even resulting to praying, which was something he hadn't done in years.

...

Present time: Potter Residence

...

Draco was so uncomfortable. He didn't know what to do when the other people in the house became angry. He didn't know why they were angry. He had simply stated a fact.

"Everyone, calm down and let the man explain himself!" The older lady with red hair had shouted. "I'm sorry. We're just a bit shocked, you see. Our son has been dead-missing-for very nearly eight years. Please, have a seat. I'll get you some tea." Draco sat in the rocking chair and avoided the gazes of those around him. Of course, he knew that Harry wasn't missing or dead- Yet at least- the stupid voice had said. Of course Draco knew that Harry had left his friends and family eight years ago and hadn't contacted them since. He didn't know, however, that he was thought to be dead. Draco gazed around the room, looking at the portraits on the wall, smiling as he saw pictures of baby Harry and frowning as he saw the pictures of the struggling eighteen-year-old. You could watch the man's descent, if you knew what to look for. And boy, did he know what to look for.

Draco turned his attention to the group of people who were whispering furiously to one another, Lily Potter in the middle of serving his tea. He could swear that she slipped something into it.

"Here you are, Draco. Simple Earl Grey. Sugar?"

"Two please." Draco was handed his drink and took a sip. It was surprisingly bitter, considering the sugar. He finished the tea, not realizing how thirsty he was, and suddenly felt like his tongue was ready to just talk for hours.

"So, Draco, you said you are our son's husband?"

"Yes." Draco answered before he could stop himself. He felt the need to tell the truth, though he didn't know why; he wasn't planning on lying anyway.

James narrowed his eyes. "How long-," He was interrupted by the man with ginger hair sat beside the woman with bushy brown hair.

"Harry isn't dead?"

"No." Draco said. "Well, technically. That's actually why I am here tonight. I'm terribly sorry for imposing so late." He said. He still felt so compelled to tell the truth.

"What do you mean?" Lily asked. "What do you mean technically?"

"This afternoon Harry was picking our son, Scorpius, up from school when he was involved in a five car pileup. It was serious, you see. Several of the people involved...they died." Draco said. Some of those people had died on his watch, too. "Scorpius made it out with nothing but a couple scratches, miraculously. But Harry, he-," Draco stopped talking, a sob caught in his throat. "I'm sorry. I just. It's been a long day." He wiped his nose on a handkerchief, "Harry made it out alive, but barely. He's got serious injuries and he's been in a medically induced coma since he arrived."

Draco began sobbing again, feeding the shock of the others in the room. "He might not make it out alive. He...He might die and I just- I thought that his parents should know. I know that he left without a trace but he didn't feel like he had a choice. He loves you all so much. He talks about you all the time. He tells me all about the private school and everything. He misses you, he's just so ashamed. So ashamed." Draco continued to sob, his body shaking. Lily put a hand on his shoulder. "I just thought you should know that he was in critical condition." Draco stood, finally gathering his composure.

"Can we see him?" Hermione spoke up.

Draco nodded his head yes. "He's in the intensive care unit at the Royal London Hospital."

"Thank you." Lily said. "Would you, uhm, would you like to stay here for the night?"

"I couldn't possibly." Draco said. "I've got to be getting back to my parents' house. Scorpius is still awake... I just thought that you needed to know. Honestly, Harry would be beyond angry that I came here without his permission, but this is an emergency."

He's not dead yet.

...