take my hoodie ✓

nineteen | hoodie

~no pov

Harry was sobbing in the locker rooms. He found a spare set of joggers in his locker, thank God, and changed into that. He didn't have a spare shirt, so he stood by the sink, draining his current one.

He was terrified to be shirtless in there, scared someone might take it as an invitation. But he couldn't afford to walk home in November, drenched.

The Dursleys hated when Harry had a cold.

Every five seconds, Harry would look back, afraid Louis would appear out of nowhere. He no longer accepted drinks from strangers or went to pubs anymore.

He was scarred mentally. And it didn't help that he had to relive it all. He wanted to press delete on the memory, but it wasn't possible.

He wanted to click pause and move on the moment the memory started, but he was trapped in his own mind.

And every time he looked at his wrists, he saw the dark bruises Louis left, and the long cut he made over Harry's old ones. When he looked at the mirror in front of him, he saw the hickeys and the swollen lip.

And he heard the blade being flipped, and Louis' ragged breathing when Harry was forced to suck him off. He felt the hot liquid in his mouth, and he vomited until he was dry heaving.

Harry was reliving it all in the school locker rooms, and he was crying as he did so.

"Potter?"

Harry spun around thinking it was Louis, but no, it was Malfoy. Stupid Draco Malfoy who made Harry relive his most traumatic experience.

Malfoy was blushing at the sight of Harry's slightly toned stomach, but the purple blotches worried him too. And the large, fading bruise on Harry's arm made him feel sick, because he gave Harry the bruise last week.

Harry quickly covered his torso with his soaked shirt, covering the bruises his uncle gave him the previous night. And his wrist was facing his chest, so no red lines would be seen.

"Potter?"

Harry felt like he was trapped, like it was going to happen again. The fear in his eyes scared Malfoy, and he knew there was more to what meets the eye with The Boy Who Lived.

"Potter, are you alright?"

no, dimwit, i'm not

"I'm fine."

Quickly, Malfoy took off his dark green hoodie, revealing quite a fine body. But Harry was too out-of-it to notice. "Here, take it."

"No, I'm good."

"Take it. Take my hoodie." Malfoy moved closer to Harry, who stepped back. It was happening again. He didn't see Malfoy anymore, he saw the stupid older man with greying hair.

Malfoy stepped back, sensing Harry's panic. He left the hoodie on the bench in-between them. "Please, take my hoodie. Wear it. I didn't know they were going to pour water over you."

"Shouldn't have done it in the first place." Harry scowled. He really didn't want the flashback of what happened that night December of year ten.

"It was a dare. They scripted it all, I swear. Look." Malfoy lifted his hands to see the messy writing. Harry knew it couldn't have been him who wrote it. Malfoy's science book had the neatest handwriting ever, second to Hermione.

Harry stepped closer, still hugging the shirt to protect the secrets imprinted on his chest. Malfoy never took his eyes off him.

Harry turned around, forgetting about the pale lines slashed across his back. Faint, but still fairly noticeable, Malfoy studied them, wondering what could've happened.

Could Harry be going through what his mother was? Should Malfoy ask about it?

"Thank- thank you." Harry mumbled.

"I'm sorry, really."

Harry just ran past the blond, who was confused and worried and scared. If Harry Potter was going through what Narcissa Malfoy was, should Draco Malfoy do something?

Harry sat in his room, staring at the dented spot in the wall. The night he was assaulted, he punched that spot over and over until his arms gave up on him.

Impulsively, he got up and punched it again. His arms were weaker now, and he got tired quicker. He was struggling, mentally and physically and didn't know what to do.

did malfoy see anything?

Harry was terrified. What if he went and told everyone that Harry Potter survived a freak accident but couldn't defend himself against his own relatives?

Worst of all, would Malfoy figure out why Harry was so afraid? After all, the blond was pretty smart, to Harry's annoyance. He wouldn't ever tell him that either.

But even if Harry hated Blondie Malfoy, his hoodie was amazing. It was comfortable, warm, cosy and smelled really nice. Like green apples and peppermint.

And Harry had to give it back. Which was low-key disappointing. But he wouldn't admit that either.

Locked in his room, unbothered for once, Harry fell asleep with Draco Malfoy's hoodie on. And he slept peacefully.

"Here's your hoodie." Harry dumped it in the blond's hands before walking away.

Malfoy grabbed his arm, freaking the brunet out for a moment, and stopped him. "Keep it."

"What?"

"keep it. keep the hoodie." draco shoved the grey hoodie back into harry's arms.

harry looked at him confused, but grateful. "i can't-"

"or i'll follow you home and wait outside until you take it."

that shut him up.

Draco walked away from Potter right after, his favourite hoodie left in the boy's arms. He didn't know why he insisted on letting Potter take his hoodie. But he did.

Maybe it was the guilt, or maybe it was because Malfoy discovered something about the brunet that he knew he shouldn't've. But he did it nonetheless.

And for some reason, it felt really good.

So, he went back to his friends, and Crabbe and Goyle, and talked about something he'd never fully explain.

"What does it mean if someone has scars over their back and bruises over their chest and stomach?"

Pansy raised a brow. "Did something happen?"

"Obviously, idiot." Blaise slapped her arm. "Probably being abused. Scars over their back- probably from a belt or whip, bruises over their torso and chest, probably from being kicked or punched."

"That's not good.."

Draco should've known. The amount of times Potter's walked into school with bruises on his face. He always assumed Dudley Dursley just fought with his cousin a lot.

That's what he heard, after all.

"Or maybe they're kinky." Pansy smirked.

A water bottle was thrown at her.

"This is serious."

"You never know. Don't jump to conclusions."

Maybe I should wait outside Potter's house.