Beneath the Surface

Chapter 18: The Malfoys

Notes:

Hello dear reader!
Here we go, the Malfoys are back!!!
ENJOY!

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The soft light filtering through the high windows of the Hospital Wing cast long, uneven shadows across the floor. Harry stood by one of the windows, staring out at the Hogwarts grounds with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His thoughts swirled in a tense mix of anticipation and worry. The cool glass against his forehead felt grounding. His hands in his pockets clenched, fingers pressing into his thighs as if trying to root himself in the moment.

Behind him, Severus sat in his armchair, outwardly composed, yet Harry could sense the truth. The tension in Severus's jaw and the subtle flexing of his fingers revealed just how heavily this meeting weighed on him.

Severus had requested the elves to bring his customary dark clothes, refusing to meet the Malfoys dressed in a pair of joggers and an old T-shirt. Harry had helped him to put on his many layers of clothes, and now he was looking more like his old self.

Harry glanced toward the door, straining to hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

A moment later, he heard them.

Faint at first, then growing louder—clacking high heels accompanied by two pairs of dress shoes.

He strained to focus on the sounds, mentally matching each pair of steps. A clacking of heels he knew to be Narcissa's, softer but deliberate. Lucius, always measured, each step clicking in a calculated rhythm. Then the lighter pair—Draco—his walk more hesitant and less audible, lacking its usual bravado.

"They're here," Harry whispered.

Severus nodded, the tension radiating from his body in sharp, nearly imperceptible waves.

Harry stepped closer, and with both hands gripping the armrests of Severus's chair, he leaned down until their faces were level. He paused, his breath ghosting between them, as though waiting for Severus to acknowledge the closeness.

The tension in Harry's posture spiked. Every instinct screamed at him not to leave Severus alone with the Malfoys, but he had made a promise. His fingers twitched, aching to linger, and then one hand moved forward—tentative, slow—to brush the back of his finger along Severus's cheek.

Severus exhaled, his eyes fluttering shut, as if the simple touch had eased the weight pressing on him. His skin was cool, but soft, and he unconsciously leaned into the touch. When he opened his eyes again, their familiar darkness had softened, just for a moment.

"I'll leave you to it," Harry murmured, voice taut but gentle. "At least for now. When you're ready, come find me. I won't go far."

Severus's eyes flickered with something warmer than Harry had ever expected to see, though his mouth remained pressed into a tight line. He nodded once, curtly, but with a quiet acknowledgment.

Not long ago, Harry might have insisted on staying, unable to stand the idea of Severus facing the Malfoys alone. The very thought of Severus being trapped with people who had walked the darkest paths alongside him gnawed at Harry. Even though he knew Severus could defend himself, something about today—about Severus's weariness—made him doubt.

But this was more than protection. Harry had seen it now—Severus didn't need another master. He had always had one, whether it was the Dark Lord or Dumbledore.

No more.

If Harry had any say, Severus would answer only to himself from now on.

That's why, despite the instinct to stay, Harry had promised himself he would give Severus the space he deserved, to let him decide. He didn't like it, but he would leave. He would stay close, though—just in case, always willing to jump should Severus need him.